12 April 1942, Alameda NAS, CA
The men of the Enterpise's Air Group had staggered back into the base last night just before curfew. The condition of the men varied when they returned, but quite a few of them were still suffering the “effects” of the liberty this morning. LT(jg) James West isn't sure the Bay area will ever recover from the visitation of nearly ten thousand sailors and air men who had just descended upon it. James had imbibed a bit himself but kept it within reason. There was no need to ruin a perfectly good liberty with a perfectly rotten hangover.
The men of VS-6 were gathered on the tarmac in front of their new SBDs. LCDR Fox of the Bureau of Aviation was going over the differences between the -2 and -3 models of the Dauntless. The new version was slightly heavier because of the added protection, but the slightly improved R-1820-52 powerplant offsets the weight pretty well. The -3 lost a few miles off her top speed over the -2, but the new model has a better climb rate. The -3 could in theory carry a much heavier bomb load but the Navy had no plans to equip them with anything larger than a 1000 lber. Besides the added protective measures, the biggest difference between the two models was that the new powerplant was much more fuel efficient allowing them to cruise at nearly 30 MPH faster than the old one. This would knock fifteen minutes off the flight time on a 200 NM run.
With the orientation complete, the men took to their planes. West taxied his new bird down to the end of the runway in line with his sqaudronmates. They took off single file and formed up over the Bay. The purpose of the flight was merely to get them used to the feel of the new birds and was only a quick 100 NM run out to sea and back. James didn't think the bird felt that much different. Perhaps a little bit more sluggish on the controls but nothing that was overly concerning. He did like the better climb rate as it it took a full minute less to reach their cruise altitude of 12,000 feet. The adjustments were minor and he was sure in a few weeks he wouldn't even be aware of them anymore. What he did know was that he was a lot safer in this version. That more than made up for liberty being over.
The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
Moderators: wdolson, MOD_War-in-the-Pacific-Admirals-Edition
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
13 April 1942, North of Vita Levu
LT(jg) Hank Tyler has his PBY on patrol heading out from the base at Suva. The patrols are getting monotonous. At least when they first arrived in Fiji a few weeks ago they was a newness to the geography. Now it was just the same old same old. Miles of featureless ocean broken by the occasional rock of an island that some fool felt the need to name. Other than a few sub sightings around the approaches to Suva harbor, no one had seen a thing since they had arrived in the South Pacific.
Hank's headphones suddenly crackle.
“Sir,” the radioman says, “I just picked up a message. Jap carriers have just been spotted 300 NM north of Noumea.”
Hank stiffens immediately. That is less than 700 NM from their current location.
“Sparks,” he says cueing the mic, “are you sure about that?”
“Yes, sir,” he answers. “I just got confirmation from Suva. The Japs are attacking the airbase and port at Noumea.”
“All right everybody, look sharp,” Hank says straightening in his seat. “There may be more carriers out there and I don't wanna be caught with our pants down.”
They continue the patrol out to 600 NM from the base. They turn east for a short while then turn back towards home. There is no further reports of any Japanese activity. Hank wonders if this is a prelude to an invasion or just a raid. He know the IJN has raided Ceylon with its carriers. Could this be the same? Or are the Japs coming for real? He doesn't relax during the remainder of the trip. He comes to the sudden realization that he has let himself get far too lax in his approach to these missions. He shudders to think that he could have come up on top of a Jap CVTF while day dreaming.
No further information is available when they return to base. The jap carriers simply appeared out of no where and then disappeared. Hank does the math in his head. If the Japanese steam at maximum speed over night, they could be within striking range of Suva by morning.
LT(jg) Hank Tyler has his PBY on patrol heading out from the base at Suva. The patrols are getting monotonous. At least when they first arrived in Fiji a few weeks ago they was a newness to the geography. Now it was just the same old same old. Miles of featureless ocean broken by the occasional rock of an island that some fool felt the need to name. Other than a few sub sightings around the approaches to Suva harbor, no one had seen a thing since they had arrived in the South Pacific.
Hank's headphones suddenly crackle.
“Sir,” the radioman says, “I just picked up a message. Jap carriers have just been spotted 300 NM north of Noumea.”
Hank stiffens immediately. That is less than 700 NM from their current location.
“Sparks,” he says cueing the mic, “are you sure about that?”
“Yes, sir,” he answers. “I just got confirmation from Suva. The Japs are attacking the airbase and port at Noumea.”
“All right everybody, look sharp,” Hank says straightening in his seat. “There may be more carriers out there and I don't wanna be caught with our pants down.”
They continue the patrol out to 600 NM from the base. They turn east for a short while then turn back towards home. There is no further reports of any Japanese activity. Hank wonders if this is a prelude to an invasion or just a raid. He know the IJN has raided Ceylon with its carriers. Could this be the same? Or are the Japs coming for real? He doesn't relax during the remainder of the trip. He comes to the sudden realization that he has let himself get far too lax in his approach to these missions. He shudders to think that he could have come up on top of a Jap CVTF while day dreaming.
No further information is available when they return to base. The jap carriers simply appeared out of no where and then disappeared. Hank does the math in his head. If the Japanese steam at maximum speed over night, they could be within striking range of Suva by morning.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
14 April 1942, Suva, Fiji
The men of VP-51 not assigned to fly today are gathered around the radio hut. Two groups of Japanese carriers have been spoted to the west and northwest of Vita Levu. At present the New Zealand base at Nadi, just 40 NM to the west, is under attack. While the base is taking a beating for sure, the Japanese seem to be dropping their bombs from very high altitude. This is affecting their accuracy considerably. Up overhead there is a Combat Air Patrol made up of Buffalo and Wildcat fighters. LT(jg) Hank Tyler doubts they would stand much of a chance against the full power of two Japanese carrier groups.
“What the hell do you think the Japs are up to, Lieutenant?,” Judd Stephens asks.
“Dunno, Judd,” Hank replies. “Could be a run up to an invasion. From what I heard they did they same thing before they invaded Port Moresby.”
“You think they're comin' here?” Judd asks
“Again, dunno,” Tyler answers. “Could just be a raid like they did at Ceylon.”
“Well, they are missing the target if they are,” Stephens says. “There ain't much over at Nadi. Just a few Kiwi patrol sqadrons.”
“And a few thousand New Zealand troops,” Hank adds.
“May be true, but just looking around here you gotta say Suva would be a far juicer target,” Judd says.
“Without reconing the base beforehand, they are just guessing,” Tyler says.
“Well then the guessed wrong, didn't they?” Judd asks
“I doubt the Kiwis over at Nadi feel that way right now,” Hank says
“I bet not,” Judd has to agree.
The men of VP-51 not assigned to fly today are gathered around the radio hut. Two groups of Japanese carriers have been spoted to the west and northwest of Vita Levu. At present the New Zealand base at Nadi, just 40 NM to the west, is under attack. While the base is taking a beating for sure, the Japanese seem to be dropping their bombs from very high altitude. This is affecting their accuracy considerably. Up overhead there is a Combat Air Patrol made up of Buffalo and Wildcat fighters. LT(jg) Hank Tyler doubts they would stand much of a chance against the full power of two Japanese carrier groups.
“What the hell do you think the Japs are up to, Lieutenant?,” Judd Stephens asks.
“Dunno, Judd,” Hank replies. “Could be a run up to an invasion. From what I heard they did they same thing before they invaded Port Moresby.”
“You think they're comin' here?” Judd asks
“Again, dunno,” Tyler answers. “Could just be a raid like they did at Ceylon.”
“Well, they are missing the target if they are,” Stephens says. “There ain't much over at Nadi. Just a few Kiwi patrol sqadrons.”
“And a few thousand New Zealand troops,” Hank adds.
“May be true, but just looking around here you gotta say Suva would be a far juicer target,” Judd says.
“Without reconing the base beforehand, they are just guessing,” Tyler says.
“Well then the guessed wrong, didn't they?” Judd asks
“I doubt the Kiwis over at Nadi feel that way right now,” Hank says
“I bet not,” Judd has to agree.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
15 April 1942, Northwest of Vita Levu
Hank Tyler has drawn the hot search arc this morning. His PBY is assigned the westernmost arc of the squadron's search pattern out of Suva. If the Japanese are going to be anywhere, they are likely going to be here. The men aboard the flying boat are tense. No one's mind is wandering today. Eyes are in constant motion flicking back and forth from the sea surface to the skies around the plane. Every sea bird moving into the field of view is closely examined to assure it is not instead an enemy fighter. There are no reports from the radio. No one has seen the Japanese carriers. There are no surprise air raids today. Its all just too damned quiet.
“Take her for a while, Mike,” Hank Tyler says to his copilot.
Hank leans back into his seat and stretches his aching muscles. He reaches up and rubs his eyes to ease their fatigue.
“Anybody see anything?” he says cueing the intercom button.
A round of negatives answers his call.
“Ok, Mike, turn her towards home,” he orders Page
They are 600 NM from the base. They nearest friendly aircraft is over 100 NM away. Now after five long hours of flying at constant alert, they are heading back. Hank never understood why the squadron rotated the crews and aircraft the way they did until now. While some of it had to do with keeping the airframes in working order, most of it had to do with keeping crew fatigue down. He now understood the logic of that policy. He was already beat and they still had a four hour flight home. He was glad he wouldn't be flying again tomorrow. He was also kicking himself for his attitude up to this point of the War. He now realized that he didn't take his duties as seriously as he should. He has never been this tired during a mission, and he knows that is because he was half assing his way through them. They were lucky they had not bumped into the enemy up to this point. He resolved himself to be more dilligent in the future not only because it was his duty but to save his own skin also.
He landed the plane and taxied up to the mooring buoy. Debriefing was a noneventful task – he didn't see anything worth reporting. He grabbed some chow and headed back to his tent. When he got their, he picked up his paper and began to write.
Dear Emily,
I wanted to let you know that I am safe and well. I am sure you are hearing stories about Japanese attacks in the news. We are well protected at our base. You need not worry about my safety. I also wanted you to know that I miss you very much. You are in my thoughts daily. The one thing that sustains me is the thought of one day returning to you.
You would never believe what happened to me last week. One of the other pilots in the unit and I were hiking in the jungle and......
Hank Tyler has drawn the hot search arc this morning. His PBY is assigned the westernmost arc of the squadron's search pattern out of Suva. If the Japanese are going to be anywhere, they are likely going to be here. The men aboard the flying boat are tense. No one's mind is wandering today. Eyes are in constant motion flicking back and forth from the sea surface to the skies around the plane. Every sea bird moving into the field of view is closely examined to assure it is not instead an enemy fighter. There are no reports from the radio. No one has seen the Japanese carriers. There are no surprise air raids today. Its all just too damned quiet.
“Take her for a while, Mike,” Hank Tyler says to his copilot.
Hank leans back into his seat and stretches his aching muscles. He reaches up and rubs his eyes to ease their fatigue.
“Anybody see anything?” he says cueing the intercom button.
A round of negatives answers his call.
“Ok, Mike, turn her towards home,” he orders Page
They are 600 NM from the base. They nearest friendly aircraft is over 100 NM away. Now after five long hours of flying at constant alert, they are heading back. Hank never understood why the squadron rotated the crews and aircraft the way they did until now. While some of it had to do with keeping the airframes in working order, most of it had to do with keeping crew fatigue down. He now understood the logic of that policy. He was already beat and they still had a four hour flight home. He was glad he wouldn't be flying again tomorrow. He was also kicking himself for his attitude up to this point of the War. He now realized that he didn't take his duties as seriously as he should. He has never been this tired during a mission, and he knows that is because he was half assing his way through them. They were lucky they had not bumped into the enemy up to this point. He resolved himself to be more dilligent in the future not only because it was his duty but to save his own skin also.
He landed the plane and taxied up to the mooring buoy. Debriefing was a noneventful task – he didn't see anything worth reporting. He grabbed some chow and headed back to his tent. When he got their, he picked up his paper and began to write.
Dear Emily,
I wanted to let you know that I am safe and well. I am sure you are hearing stories about Japanese attacks in the news. We are well protected at our base. You need not worry about my safety. I also wanted you to know that I miss you very much. You are in my thoughts daily. The one thing that sustains me is the thought of one day returning to you.
You would never believe what happened to me last week. One of the other pilots in the unit and I were hiking in the jungle and......
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
Have the Dogs had enough of war vettim?
1966 was a great year for English Football...Eric was born
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
ORIGINAL: cantona2
Have the Dogs had enough of war vettim?
No. Quite frankly I was mourning LT(jg) Jame West's demise. I have decided I am going to save him as he is not "offcially" dead. By that I mean he is not listed on any report as having been KIA. So I decided I am going to have him rescued but ground him due to his injuries. Danger of getting a little too attached to you pixelated fly boys.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
16 April 1942, Camp Elliot, CA
CPT Brett Castlebury is returning to the barracks after a meeting at Battalion HQ. New orders had been given. As soon as the Navy could organize the shipping, 6th Marines would be shipping out for Hawaii. They rest of the 2nd Marine Division was protecting the Big Island and his regiment would soon be joining them. Where they would go from there was still a mystery. Brett had to admit to himself that he was a little bit peeved. While he and the rest of the regiment were freezing their nibblets off in Iceland, the other two regiments had been parked in warm and sunny Hawaii.
“Some guys have all the luck,” he says to himself on the walk back.
Still, the weather here in San Diego didn't suck. It was sunny and warm almost every day. The proximity to the Pacific meant there was almost always a nice cooling breeze. It hardly ever rained here, and, most days, there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Yeah, there definitely are worse places he could be stuck right now.
Brett briefs the officers and sends them off to tell their men. They all seemed pretty tickled to be heading out to the Islands also.
“So what do you think we will be doing out there?” 1LT Broadway asks.
“Well the party line is that we are going to augment the defense,” Brett answers.
“But you don't think that's all I take it?” Broadway says.
“No, no I don't as a matter of fact,” Castlebury says. “I think there are bigger plans probably being made even now and this is the first step.”
How so, CPT?” the Lieutenant asks.
“Well if a man thinks about how thes war has been fought so far, we have basically been protecting those vital area we don't want to lose. Its more of a “denial” type mission.
“I'm following you, “ Broadway says, “but you still having told me where you think we're going.”
“No, I haven't have I,” Brett said teasing the XO just a bit, “Truth is I don't know for sure, but I will says this: the USMC is by definition an assaulting force. If you beleive that statement, it has to mean we are going to take back some place the Japs have already captured. We are going to take something away that they either want or need, The Division is not going to play nurse maid to the people in Hawaii for the rest of the war. No when we go, it will be something far more substantial and risky.”
“Nothing specific though, right” Broadway says
“No but I'll put five bucks down right now that you won't be able to pronounce the name of where we are going when we find out.
Bet's on,” Broadway answers.
CPT Brett Castlebury is returning to the barracks after a meeting at Battalion HQ. New orders had been given. As soon as the Navy could organize the shipping, 6th Marines would be shipping out for Hawaii. They rest of the 2nd Marine Division was protecting the Big Island and his regiment would soon be joining them. Where they would go from there was still a mystery. Brett had to admit to himself that he was a little bit peeved. While he and the rest of the regiment were freezing their nibblets off in Iceland, the other two regiments had been parked in warm and sunny Hawaii.
“Some guys have all the luck,” he says to himself on the walk back.
Still, the weather here in San Diego didn't suck. It was sunny and warm almost every day. The proximity to the Pacific meant there was almost always a nice cooling breeze. It hardly ever rained here, and, most days, there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Yeah, there definitely are worse places he could be stuck right now.
Brett briefs the officers and sends them off to tell their men. They all seemed pretty tickled to be heading out to the Islands also.
“So what do you think we will be doing out there?” 1LT Broadway asks.
“Well the party line is that we are going to augment the defense,” Brett answers.
“But you don't think that's all I take it?” Broadway says.
“No, no I don't as a matter of fact,” Castlebury says. “I think there are bigger plans probably being made even now and this is the first step.”
How so, CPT?” the Lieutenant asks.
“Well if a man thinks about how thes war has been fought so far, we have basically been protecting those vital area we don't want to lose. Its more of a “denial” type mission.
“I'm following you, “ Broadway says, “but you still having told me where you think we're going.”
“No, I haven't have I,” Brett said teasing the XO just a bit, “Truth is I don't know for sure, but I will says this: the USMC is by definition an assaulting force. If you beleive that statement, it has to mean we are going to take back some place the Japs have already captured. We are going to take something away that they either want or need, The Division is not going to play nurse maid to the people in Hawaii for the rest of the war. No when we go, it will be something far more substantial and risky.”
“Nothing specific though, right” Broadway says
“No but I'll put five bucks down right now that you won't be able to pronounce the name of where we are going when we find out.
Bet's on,” Broadway answers.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
17 April 1942, Treasure Island Naval Base, CA
LT Greg Cummins arrives by motor launch from Alameda. The upgrades of the nine destroyers based there is going along smoothly. The entire group should be ready for sea with a week. A courier had brougt a message to him earlier today saying CPT Strothers needed to see him ASAP. He finished his morning tasks and cuaght a launch over the Treasure Island. He honestly had no idea what the Captain could want with him. The upgrades were going almost flawlessly. Was some one griping about the pressjure he was putting on the yard workers?
He finds himself waiting in the same room he did two weeks ago. Fortunately, his wait wasn't long. The PO at the desk told him it was his turn to see Captain Strothers
“Come in, Greg,” Strothers said motioning him to a chair. “I'm getting great feed back on your work here. The yard people are whining a little bit on how hard you are pushing, but the ship's commanders are all very happy. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters to me.”
“Good to here that, Sir,” Greg says. “So I gather I haven't been called here to be chewed out.”
“Not at all,” Strothers says. “No, we have another problem that needs your expertise. You ever been to Hawaii?”
“No sir,” he replies. “My sea duty has all been in the Atlantic to this point.”
“Then I guess we are about to broaden your horizons,” the Captain says smiling. “There are eight Mahan Class Destroyers out at Pearl. They are in the midst of their upgrades and things are not going well. Captin Lawrence has requested your presence there to put things in order.”
“So Captain Lawrence is going to sic his attack dog on the poor yard people on Oahu, eh?” Cummins says.
“That about sums it up,” Strothers says. “You'll like Hawaii, Greg. It is one of the few places I have visited in life that was actaully better than how people described it. “
“Well, I've always wanted to see it for myself,” Greg says. “I guess I am about to get my chance.”
“The Navy has commandeered the former Pacific Clipper Fleet,” Strothers says. “ One is due to leave here tomorrow morning for Pearl. There is a seat reserved for you on that flight. I'm sorry to see you go, Greg, but it sounds like BurShips has bigger fish for you to fry.”
Greg stands to leave.
“Thank you, sir,” he says, “and thank you for your support of my work here. It made all the difference to know that my superiors had my back during this project.”
“Good luck, Greg,” Strothers says with a hand shake and salute.
LT Greg Cummins arrives by motor launch from Alameda. The upgrades of the nine destroyers based there is going along smoothly. The entire group should be ready for sea with a week. A courier had brougt a message to him earlier today saying CPT Strothers needed to see him ASAP. He finished his morning tasks and cuaght a launch over the Treasure Island. He honestly had no idea what the Captain could want with him. The upgrades were going almost flawlessly. Was some one griping about the pressjure he was putting on the yard workers?
He finds himself waiting in the same room he did two weeks ago. Fortunately, his wait wasn't long. The PO at the desk told him it was his turn to see Captain Strothers
“Come in, Greg,” Strothers said motioning him to a chair. “I'm getting great feed back on your work here. The yard people are whining a little bit on how hard you are pushing, but the ship's commanders are all very happy. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters to me.”
“Good to here that, Sir,” Greg says. “So I gather I haven't been called here to be chewed out.”
“Not at all,” Strothers says. “No, we have another problem that needs your expertise. You ever been to Hawaii?”
“No sir,” he replies. “My sea duty has all been in the Atlantic to this point.”
“Then I guess we are about to broaden your horizons,” the Captain says smiling. “There are eight Mahan Class Destroyers out at Pearl. They are in the midst of their upgrades and things are not going well. Captin Lawrence has requested your presence there to put things in order.”
“So Captain Lawrence is going to sic his attack dog on the poor yard people on Oahu, eh?” Cummins says.
“That about sums it up,” Strothers says. “You'll like Hawaii, Greg. It is one of the few places I have visited in life that was actaully better than how people described it. “
“Well, I've always wanted to see it for myself,” Greg says. “I guess I am about to get my chance.”
“The Navy has commandeered the former Pacific Clipper Fleet,” Strothers says. “ One is due to leave here tomorrow morning for Pearl. There is a seat reserved for you on that flight. I'm sorry to see you go, Greg, but it sounds like BurShips has bigger fish for you to fry.”
Greg stands to leave.
“Thank you, sir,” he says, “and thank you for your support of my work here. It made all the difference to know that my superiors had my back during this project.”
“Good luck, Greg,” Strothers says with a hand shake and salute.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
18 April 1942, Melbourne, Australia
LT DJ Haskins is enjoying another supper with the Floyds. Artie's wife , Harriet, has truly outdone herself this time. She has prepared a full rack of lamb for DJ's farewell meal. Shark's repairs are nearly complete. They will take her out tomorrow for a shake down cruise then sail for Perth the next day if everythig checks out. As much as he wants to get back into the War, he is truly melancholy about not seeing the Floyds after tonight. They have become like a second family to him. They are some of the finest people he has met in his entire life.
The Floyd's daughter-in-law, Mary, and her son, Barry have joined them this evening. The meal is more than a bit of a splurge for the family, and it would be a shame to not share it with as many people as possible. DJ has never had lamb before tonight, and he takes his first bite tentatively. The meat is tender and has a stronger flavor than beef. He now regrets waiting so long to try it. The meal goes by very quickly it seems, and before long DJ and Artie are sitting on the patio while Mary and Harriet clear the table.
“You ready?” Artie says looking out on the bay.
“Yes, as much as I ever will be,” DJ aswers.
“You still worried about your Commader?” Artie asks
“I'm afraid so,” DJ says slowly. “Maybe its just me being stubborn about accepting change. LCDR Smith was a superb officer and LT Phelps the same. I just don't have the same confidence in LCDR Shane. The man just some how seems out of his element.”
“A square peg in a round hole so they say” Floyd comments.
“Exactly!” DJ says. “I am sure he is a fine man. It just seems like he would rather be somewhere else doing something else.”
“Well, my boy,” Artie says, ”he's lucky he's got you then. You may have to take some of the load off of him. “
“Are you suggesting I be insubordinate?” DJ asks suprised at Floyd's comment.
“No, no,” Artie says, “not at all. I am just saying that a commading officer is only as good as the men beneath him. “
Artie pauses.
“Sometimes a man performs better than his capabilites should allow because the men below him are superbly qualified. That's what I am saying: he may, before all is said and done, need you to save is brisket if you know what I mean.”
“I do, Artie, I do”, DJ answers. He contemplates the point as he sips his beer. He had always served under what he had considered excellant officers. Following their leadership had always been without question. It never occured to him that a junior officer would be more of a leader than his superior.
Some how it just rubbed him wrong.
LT DJ Haskins is enjoying another supper with the Floyds. Artie's wife , Harriet, has truly outdone herself this time. She has prepared a full rack of lamb for DJ's farewell meal. Shark's repairs are nearly complete. They will take her out tomorrow for a shake down cruise then sail for Perth the next day if everythig checks out. As much as he wants to get back into the War, he is truly melancholy about not seeing the Floyds after tonight. They have become like a second family to him. They are some of the finest people he has met in his entire life.
The Floyd's daughter-in-law, Mary, and her son, Barry have joined them this evening. The meal is more than a bit of a splurge for the family, and it would be a shame to not share it with as many people as possible. DJ has never had lamb before tonight, and he takes his first bite tentatively. The meat is tender and has a stronger flavor than beef. He now regrets waiting so long to try it. The meal goes by very quickly it seems, and before long DJ and Artie are sitting on the patio while Mary and Harriet clear the table.
“You ready?” Artie says looking out on the bay.
“Yes, as much as I ever will be,” DJ aswers.
“You still worried about your Commader?” Artie asks
“I'm afraid so,” DJ says slowly. “Maybe its just me being stubborn about accepting change. LCDR Smith was a superb officer and LT Phelps the same. I just don't have the same confidence in LCDR Shane. The man just some how seems out of his element.”
“A square peg in a round hole so they say” Floyd comments.
“Exactly!” DJ says. “I am sure he is a fine man. It just seems like he would rather be somewhere else doing something else.”
“Well, my boy,” Artie says, ”he's lucky he's got you then. You may have to take some of the load off of him. “
“Are you suggesting I be insubordinate?” DJ asks suprised at Floyd's comment.
“No, no,” Artie says, “not at all. I am just saying that a commading officer is only as good as the men beneath him. “
Artie pauses.
“Sometimes a man performs better than his capabilites should allow because the men below him are superbly qualified. That's what I am saying: he may, before all is said and done, need you to save is brisket if you know what I mean.”
“I do, Artie, I do”, DJ answers. He contemplates the point as he sips his beer. He had always served under what he had considered excellant officers. Following their leadership had always been without question. It never occured to him that a junior officer would be more of a leader than his superior.
Some how it just rubbed him wrong.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
19 April 1942, Alamaeda NAS, CA
“A man could get used to living this life of luxury we have here,” LT(jg) Carey says.
“I don't know that I would call this luxury,” LT(jg) West says, “but I do get your meaning”
The men of VS-6 are certainly more at ease here on shore. They flew training missions nearly every day, but there are no daily search missions, no fear of sub attack, and they get to sleep in bunks that aren't moving with a ship's motion. True, they had not yet seen combat but that didn't mean they weren't under stress. The Enterprise has spent over four months at sea at combat readiness. The constant state of alert wore on a man even if the enemy wasn't shooting at him.
“I wouldn't get too comfortable, Bob,” James says. “I have a feeling as soon as the old girl is out of the shop, we'll be heading out again.”
“I would think a scholar like would know the scripture better than that, James,” Carey says.
“How's that?” James saya with piqued interest.
“Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, Matthew 6:34,” Carey answers
“Now that's a switch,” ENS Stone injects. “The curmudgeon has become the philosopher.”
“Guess I must be rubbing off on you guys,” James quickly inserts.
The other three men just roll their eyes.
“A man could get used to living this life of luxury we have here,” LT(jg) Carey says.
“I don't know that I would call this luxury,” LT(jg) West says, “but I do get your meaning”
The men of VS-6 are certainly more at ease here on shore. They flew training missions nearly every day, but there are no daily search missions, no fear of sub attack, and they get to sleep in bunks that aren't moving with a ship's motion. True, they had not yet seen combat but that didn't mean they weren't under stress. The Enterprise has spent over four months at sea at combat readiness. The constant state of alert wore on a man even if the enemy wasn't shooting at him.
“I wouldn't get too comfortable, Bob,” James says. “I have a feeling as soon as the old girl is out of the shop, we'll be heading out again.”
“I would think a scholar like would know the scripture better than that, James,” Carey says.
“How's that?” James saya with piqued interest.
“Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, Matthew 6:34,” Carey answers
“Now that's a switch,” ENS Stone injects. “The curmudgeon has become the philosopher.”
“Guess I must be rubbing off on you guys,” James quickly inserts.
The other three men just roll their eyes.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
20 April 1942, Suva, Fiji
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"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
cont'd
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"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
the uncensored portion of Emily's letter
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"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
Some how messed up my dates and wrote two posts for the 20th. Bonus!
20 April 1942, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
LT Greg Cummins is meeting with CPT Waverly form the Navy Yard at Pearl. The meeting is not going well.
“This is some sort of mistake is it not, Lieutenant?” CPT Waverly says.
“No, Sir, I assure you it is not,” Greg answers.
“What genius in Washington came up with the idea of stripping the Mahan's of one fifth of the main battery?” the Captain says.
“The decision was made by the entire destroyer team,” Cummins says. “The Mahans were designed to very close tolerances as far as weight. The added weight of the new RADAR, K-Guns, and anti-aircraft guns would have made the ships dangerously top heavy. Some allowance had to be made to maintain stability especially in heavy seas.”
“I, for one , disagree,” Waverly retorts, “and I can tell you that the captains of those destroyers share my opinion.”
Greg sees he is getting no where with this man. He decides to take a different tack. He pulls the folder for the Mahans out of his briefcase. He shuffles through the papers until he finds the page he needs.
“If you will look here, Sir”, Cummins begins, “you will see that the Mahans draft fully loaded is approximately 12' 4”; empty they draw right about 9'. As you can see ,as built , the ship's metacenter is here and the metacentric height is this number here.”
“All right,” the Captain says trying to follow along.
“If we just add the additional weapons and RADAR dictated by the upgrade the ships would be too unstable,” Greg continues. “If we were to do that, the ships metacenter moves to here and the metacentric height becomes this. Because the Number 3 5” mount is mounted atop the rear deckhouse, its weight is disproportionately represented in the metacentric height.”
“OK,” Waverly says obviously getting lost.
“By removing the Number three mount we not only decrease the ship's weight but lower its metacentric height to here,” Cummins says pointing to yet another number. “If you look here you will see that the period of roll is substantially different without the Number three mount vice keeping it. In addition, by removing the Number three mount, we are able to increase righting arm by a full ten degrees. If you want, Sir, I can find the sheet with all the calculations we used to come up with these figures.”
“No, that won't be necessary, Lieutenant,” Waverly says. “I can see your team has put a lot of time and effort into this project. Now that I see the numbers, I understand the need to proceed as planned. I will order the work to start immediately.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Greg says gathering all his papers together. “If, you don't mind, Sir, I'd like to take a look at the Mahans myself.”
“Not a problem, Lieutenant,” the Captain says. “I'll have a car come around and take you down to the yard. “
With that, Greg packed up his things. He had taken a chance there but was pretty sure it would work out the way it did. The man was a good officer, but it was obvious he had limited knowledge of naval architecture. He was glad he just didn't have to pull out his sliderule to further befuddle him.
(Author's note: this post was written three days before the Costa Concordia sank. Take about a premonition)
20 April 1942, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
LT Greg Cummins is meeting with CPT Waverly form the Navy Yard at Pearl. The meeting is not going well.
“This is some sort of mistake is it not, Lieutenant?” CPT Waverly says.
“No, Sir, I assure you it is not,” Greg answers.
“What genius in Washington came up with the idea of stripping the Mahan's of one fifth of the main battery?” the Captain says.
“The decision was made by the entire destroyer team,” Cummins says. “The Mahans were designed to very close tolerances as far as weight. The added weight of the new RADAR, K-Guns, and anti-aircraft guns would have made the ships dangerously top heavy. Some allowance had to be made to maintain stability especially in heavy seas.”
“I, for one , disagree,” Waverly retorts, “and I can tell you that the captains of those destroyers share my opinion.”
Greg sees he is getting no where with this man. He decides to take a different tack. He pulls the folder for the Mahans out of his briefcase. He shuffles through the papers until he finds the page he needs.
“If you will look here, Sir”, Cummins begins, “you will see that the Mahans draft fully loaded is approximately 12' 4”; empty they draw right about 9'. As you can see ,as built , the ship's metacenter is here and the metacentric height is this number here.”
“All right,” the Captain says trying to follow along.
“If we just add the additional weapons and RADAR dictated by the upgrade the ships would be too unstable,” Greg continues. “If we were to do that, the ships metacenter moves to here and the metacentric height becomes this. Because the Number 3 5” mount is mounted atop the rear deckhouse, its weight is disproportionately represented in the metacentric height.”
“OK,” Waverly says obviously getting lost.
“By removing the Number three mount we not only decrease the ship's weight but lower its metacentric height to here,” Cummins says pointing to yet another number. “If you look here you will see that the period of roll is substantially different without the Number three mount vice keeping it. In addition, by removing the Number three mount, we are able to increase righting arm by a full ten degrees. If you want, Sir, I can find the sheet with all the calculations we used to come up with these figures.”
“No, that won't be necessary, Lieutenant,” Waverly says. “I can see your team has put a lot of time and effort into this project. Now that I see the numbers, I understand the need to proceed as planned. I will order the work to start immediately.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Greg says gathering all his papers together. “If, you don't mind, Sir, I'd like to take a look at the Mahans myself.”
“Not a problem, Lieutenant,” the Captain says. “I'll have a car come around and take you down to the yard. “
With that, Greg packed up his things. He had taken a chance there but was pretty sure it would work out the way it did. The man was a good officer, but it was obvious he had limited knowledge of naval architecture. He was glad he just didn't have to pull out his sliderule to further befuddle him.
(Author's note: this post was written three days before the Costa Concordia sank. Take about a premonition)
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
21 April 1942, The Great Australian Bight
USS Shark is on the surface moving west. The sea is against her and she is barely making 12 kts. The bow of the boat is digging heavily into each successful wave jarring the crew as the sub plows its way through. She then dives into the trough only to rise again to meet the next swell. Lieutenant DJ Haskins is standing atop the boat's bridge at this moment. It is not a comfortable place to be riding. The air temperature is just above 40 degrees and the wind in his face is howling at over 30 kts. Add in the salt spray that is thrown up with each wave and you get a bone chilling, mind numbing experience.
DJ isn't sure if the skipper is testing him or not. Perhaps he just wants to see how his new XO handles rough weather. LCDR Shane has been cordial to him since his arrival, but DJ senses something in his demeanor that hints the skipper has something against him. None of the officers say much about it. What is even stranger that they almost refuse to the man to discuss the boat's previous XO, LT Harris. It is obvious to DJ that something happened on Shark's first cruise that the men do not want to discuss. He has gone over the report on the patrol and has not found any indication there of what transpired. Whatever it was it must have been something of a personal nature. There is nothing in the official record that indicates anything unusual in events of the boat's first cruise.
LT(JG) Moss joins DJ on the bridge. He has to practically has to scream to be heard over the gale.
“I relieve you, Sir”, he shouts
“I stand relieved,” Haskins screams back. “Mr. Moss has the con.”
He slips through the hatch and climbs down to the control room. He steadies himself as the boat heaves its way through another crest. The boat groans and pops as it assaults the wave. He thinks that maybe being up on deck isn't so bad now that he has experienced the chop belowdecks. It is going to be a long ride to Perth.
USS Shark is on the surface moving west. The sea is against her and she is barely making 12 kts. The bow of the boat is digging heavily into each successful wave jarring the crew as the sub plows its way through. She then dives into the trough only to rise again to meet the next swell. Lieutenant DJ Haskins is standing atop the boat's bridge at this moment. It is not a comfortable place to be riding. The air temperature is just above 40 degrees and the wind in his face is howling at over 30 kts. Add in the salt spray that is thrown up with each wave and you get a bone chilling, mind numbing experience.
DJ isn't sure if the skipper is testing him or not. Perhaps he just wants to see how his new XO handles rough weather. LCDR Shane has been cordial to him since his arrival, but DJ senses something in his demeanor that hints the skipper has something against him. None of the officers say much about it. What is even stranger that they almost refuse to the man to discuss the boat's previous XO, LT Harris. It is obvious to DJ that something happened on Shark's first cruise that the men do not want to discuss. He has gone over the report on the patrol and has not found any indication there of what transpired. Whatever it was it must have been something of a personal nature. There is nothing in the official record that indicates anything unusual in events of the boat's first cruise.
LT(JG) Moss joins DJ on the bridge. He has to practically has to scream to be heard over the gale.
“I relieve you, Sir”, he shouts
“I stand relieved,” Haskins screams back. “Mr. Moss has the con.”
He slips through the hatch and climbs down to the control room. He steadies himself as the boat heaves its way through another crest. The boat groans and pops as it assaults the wave. He thinks that maybe being up on deck isn't so bad now that he has experienced the chop belowdecks. It is going to be a long ride to Perth.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
22 April 1942, Camp Elliot, CA
CPT Brett Castlebury is watching 1LT Woods run 1st Platoon through the obstacle course. The men have done this a dozen times or more since they arrived here. Like always, there are a few stragglers. Woods and his platoon Sergent are riding the slow pokes hard.
“You better get a move on, Marine,” Woods shouts at one of the last men. “This platoon can't afford to be draggin you sorry ass around when we are fighting the Japs.”
“Move it, move it, move it,” his Sergeant screams. “If you don't get you lazy asses moving, we are gonna have a 2-6-10 moment here.”
Brett laughs to himself. The phrase is well known to every Marine. It is the shortened version of its gonna take two surgeons six hours to remove ten inches of my boot from you ass. Crude? Yes. It is part of the Marine lexicon and it is the surest way for the Sergeant to convey his message with the fewest words.
Brett looks down at his stop watch as the last man crosses the finish line. Even though the were trailing the rest of the group, the last few are still well below the alloted time for the course. Castlebury is happy with the platoon's performance and is even happier with LT Woods. Being just good enough is not good enough for him. That sets just fine with his CO.
CPT Brett Castlebury is watching 1LT Woods run 1st Platoon through the obstacle course. The men have done this a dozen times or more since they arrived here. Like always, there are a few stragglers. Woods and his platoon Sergent are riding the slow pokes hard.
“You better get a move on, Marine,” Woods shouts at one of the last men. “This platoon can't afford to be draggin you sorry ass around when we are fighting the Japs.”
“Move it, move it, move it,” his Sergeant screams. “If you don't get you lazy asses moving, we are gonna have a 2-6-10 moment here.”
Brett laughs to himself. The phrase is well known to every Marine. It is the shortened version of its gonna take two surgeons six hours to remove ten inches of my boot from you ass. Crude? Yes. It is part of the Marine lexicon and it is the surest way for the Sergeant to convey his message with the fewest words.
Brett looks down at his stop watch as the last man crosses the finish line. Even though the were trailing the rest of the group, the last few are still well below the alloted time for the course. Castlebury is happy with the platoon's performance and is even happier with LT Woods. Being just good enough is not good enough for him. That sets just fine with his CO.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
23 April 1942, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
This is getting to be like a broken record. For the third time since arriving here, LT Greg Cummins is having the same argument about removing the Number Three mount on the Mahans. After having settled the matter, he thought, with CPT Waverly, his is now debating the issue with the second CO of one of the Mahans who is challenging the plan. At this point, Cummins has the spiel memorized. This time the argument is with LCDR Stormes of the USS Preston. He pulls out his trusty page with the calculations on it once again.
“If you will look here, Sir”, Cummins begins, “you will see that the Mahans draft fully loaded is approximately 12' 4”; empty they draw right about 9'. As you can see ,as built , the ship's metacenter is here and the metacentric height is this number here ......”
Stormes makes it even less far into the dissertation before his eyes glass over. They finish the conversation and Greg takes his leave. He walks down the steps from the bridge of Preston across the deck and then down the brow to the pier. He makes his way down to the next ship in line, the USS Perkins. He ascends the brow and asks for permission to come aboard. The Ensign acting as OOD directs him to the captains quarters.
He knocks on the door and is asked to come in. LCDR Ford, the ship's CO welcomes him. They go over the details of the upgrades to the Mahans. Ford asks a few questions, all of which Greg has heard before. He politely answers them for the fourth or fifth time. Greg knows its coming. He sits waiting for “The Question” to be asked.
“LT Cummins,” Ford says, “I was wondering what BurShips thinking was for reducing the main battery from five to four 5” guns”
Greg decides to just cut to the chase this time.
“Well, Sir, It has to do with weight distribution,” he says pulling out his trusty page.
“If you will look here, Sir”, Cummins begins, “you will see that the Mahans draft fully loaded is approximately 12' 4”; empty they draw right about 9'. As you can see ,as built , the ship's metacenter is here and the metacentric height is this number here.”
“And with the high mounting of the Number Three mount, the metacentric height is pushed even higher with all the new gear,” the LCDR interupts. “We should also see a pretty significant increase in righting arm with these changes, shouldn't we?”
“Yes, Sir, you should,” Cummins answers nearly stunned.
The two men spend the better part of the next hour going over the calculations and other details of BurShips plans. Ford finds out about Greg's time on the Fletcher team and grills him over the details. Greg has to excuse himself so he can finish his rounds, but the two men agree to meet for dinner later.
This is getting to be like a broken record. For the third time since arriving here, LT Greg Cummins is having the same argument about removing the Number Three mount on the Mahans. After having settled the matter, he thought, with CPT Waverly, his is now debating the issue with the second CO of one of the Mahans who is challenging the plan. At this point, Cummins has the spiel memorized. This time the argument is with LCDR Stormes of the USS Preston. He pulls out his trusty page with the calculations on it once again.
“If you will look here, Sir”, Cummins begins, “you will see that the Mahans draft fully loaded is approximately 12' 4”; empty they draw right about 9'. As you can see ,as built , the ship's metacenter is here and the metacentric height is this number here ......”
Stormes makes it even less far into the dissertation before his eyes glass over. They finish the conversation and Greg takes his leave. He walks down the steps from the bridge of Preston across the deck and then down the brow to the pier. He makes his way down to the next ship in line, the USS Perkins. He ascends the brow and asks for permission to come aboard. The Ensign acting as OOD directs him to the captains quarters.
He knocks on the door and is asked to come in. LCDR Ford, the ship's CO welcomes him. They go over the details of the upgrades to the Mahans. Ford asks a few questions, all of which Greg has heard before. He politely answers them for the fourth or fifth time. Greg knows its coming. He sits waiting for “The Question” to be asked.
“LT Cummins,” Ford says, “I was wondering what BurShips thinking was for reducing the main battery from five to four 5” guns”
Greg decides to just cut to the chase this time.
“Well, Sir, It has to do with weight distribution,” he says pulling out his trusty page.
“If you will look here, Sir”, Cummins begins, “you will see that the Mahans draft fully loaded is approximately 12' 4”; empty they draw right about 9'. As you can see ,as built , the ship's metacenter is here and the metacentric height is this number here.”
“And with the high mounting of the Number Three mount, the metacentric height is pushed even higher with all the new gear,” the LCDR interupts. “We should also see a pretty significant increase in righting arm with these changes, shouldn't we?”
“Yes, Sir, you should,” Cummins answers nearly stunned.
The two men spend the better part of the next hour going over the calculations and other details of BurShips plans. Ford finds out about Greg's time on the Fletcher team and grills him over the details. Greg has to excuse himself so he can finish his rounds, but the two men agree to meet for dinner later.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
24 April 1942, San Franciso, CA
The men of Enterprise's Air Wing have been given one last three day pass. The ship has completed her refit already. They are now just waiting for the three heavy cruisers assigned to The Big E's screen to finish their final repairs and upgrades. Every one is sure that they will be sent out almost immediately once all the ships are good to go. No one is looking forward to another five month cruise, but there is a war to be fought.
LT(jg) James West is with a group of pilots touring Chinatown. He didn't really know why he was here. While certainly a departure from the surrounding neighborhoods, it wasn't really that spectacular. True, the signs were are bilingual and air was field with strange voices speaking a strange language, but any one that had traveled outside the US had experienced such things in an indigenous setting. He had been down the streets of Lisbon, Portugal and Oslo, Norway and experienced foreign cultures up close and personal. Still, there was something unique about this place. Perhaps it was not just the Chinese culture but the blending of the Chinese and American cultures into something that was both and neither. It never occured to James that some of it was far more deliberate than what he thought. In 1910, the powers that be in San Franciso decided that Chinatown could be used in promoting the tourist trade. Since that time it had been prominently featured on post cards, travel brochues, and every other sort of tourist oriented material produced by the city. You went to Chinatown when you visited San Franciso because the city planners had planted the idea in your head that its what you should do while here.
He stops at an open air restaurant. Well that's what he thinks it is becuase he can't really find a word to describe the open storefront with the steaming pot of noodles and a few chairs scattered nearby. The women running the place is quite friendly but does not speak English very well. James finally just ends up pointing at a few items and the women serves him a steaming plate of something. What, he does not know, but it is quite tasty and there is plenty of it. He has no idea if the buck he just handed over was a deal or a steal. He decides after digging in that the old woman had not ripped him off. He sits downs on a chair and just watches the people pass by. He feels very far away from the War right now.
The men of Enterprise's Air Wing have been given one last three day pass. The ship has completed her refit already. They are now just waiting for the three heavy cruisers assigned to The Big E's screen to finish their final repairs and upgrades. Every one is sure that they will be sent out almost immediately once all the ships are good to go. No one is looking forward to another five month cruise, but there is a war to be fought.
LT(jg) James West is with a group of pilots touring Chinatown. He didn't really know why he was here. While certainly a departure from the surrounding neighborhoods, it wasn't really that spectacular. True, the signs were are bilingual and air was field with strange voices speaking a strange language, but any one that had traveled outside the US had experienced such things in an indigenous setting. He had been down the streets of Lisbon, Portugal and Oslo, Norway and experienced foreign cultures up close and personal. Still, there was something unique about this place. Perhaps it was not just the Chinese culture but the blending of the Chinese and American cultures into something that was both and neither. It never occured to James that some of it was far more deliberate than what he thought. In 1910, the powers that be in San Franciso decided that Chinatown could be used in promoting the tourist trade. Since that time it had been prominently featured on post cards, travel brochues, and every other sort of tourist oriented material produced by the city. You went to Chinatown when you visited San Franciso because the city planners had planted the idea in your head that its what you should do while here.
He stops at an open air restaurant. Well that's what he thinks it is becuase he can't really find a word to describe the open storefront with the steaming pot of noodles and a few chairs scattered nearby. The women running the place is quite friendly but does not speak English very well. James finally just ends up pointing at a few items and the women serves him a steaming plate of something. What, he does not know, but it is quite tasty and there is plenty of it. He has no idea if the buck he just handed over was a deal or a steal. He decides after digging in that the old woman had not ripped him off. He sits downs on a chair and just watches the people pass by. He feels very far away from the War right now.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
25 April 1942, Perth, Australia
USS Shark eases her way into Fremantle Harbor. She will not stay long. Orders are just to refuel and resupply before departing for Soerabaja in the morning. The few glitches that popped up during there short cruise from Melbourne are being addressed as quickly as possible. Those that can be will be repaired before departure. Those that can't be will be repaired when and if she returns from her deployment.
LT DJ Hasins is touring the boat checking with each department. Chief O'Brien accompanies him as he goes making notes of anything that is out of order. They pause in the engine room where LT(jg) Moss is going over the engines, electrical system, and motors to be sure there is no undetected problems.
“Mr. Moss,” DJ says, “anything to report.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, Lieutenant,” OJ replies. “She'll make 19 kts in a fair sea.”
“Since when is the Sea been fair?” Haskins asks with a smile. “My experience is that she is a heartless bitch that'd sooner kill you than be fair, wouldn't you agree Chief.”
“Aye, Sir,” O'Brien answers, “she's a cruel mistress, but we love her for all her faults anyway.”
“Indeed we do, Chief,” DJ says.
They proceed along with the rest of the inspection. As they move through the rest of the ship, he contemplates the thought. Here he is heading back out into harm's way fighting both the Japanese and the sea. They had both conspired to nearly kill him once yet here he was again back at it.
“What is it about the sea that it has such power over men?” he muses.
To fight the Japs was his duty as an officer in the US Navy, but to fight them this way was near madness if one truly considered it. Take a boat you deliberately sink right into the heart of enemy territory hoping you find them before they find you. Yet, DJ was not only going to do that very thing, he was excited to be doing it.
As Artie Floyd said on the day he met him, “We submariners are indeed an odd lot,” DJ thinks to himself.
USS Shark eases her way into Fremantle Harbor. She will not stay long. Orders are just to refuel and resupply before departing for Soerabaja in the morning. The few glitches that popped up during there short cruise from Melbourne are being addressed as quickly as possible. Those that can be will be repaired before departure. Those that can't be will be repaired when and if she returns from her deployment.
LT DJ Hasins is touring the boat checking with each department. Chief O'Brien accompanies him as he goes making notes of anything that is out of order. They pause in the engine room where LT(jg) Moss is going over the engines, electrical system, and motors to be sure there is no undetected problems.
“Mr. Moss,” DJ says, “anything to report.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, Lieutenant,” OJ replies. “She'll make 19 kts in a fair sea.”
“Since when is the Sea been fair?” Haskins asks with a smile. “My experience is that she is a heartless bitch that'd sooner kill you than be fair, wouldn't you agree Chief.”
“Aye, Sir,” O'Brien answers, “she's a cruel mistress, but we love her for all her faults anyway.”
“Indeed we do, Chief,” DJ says.
They proceed along with the rest of the inspection. As they move through the rest of the ship, he contemplates the thought. Here he is heading back out into harm's way fighting both the Japanese and the sea. They had both conspired to nearly kill him once yet here he was again back at it.
“What is it about the sea that it has such power over men?” he muses.
To fight the Japs was his duty as an officer in the US Navy, but to fight them this way was near madness if one truly considered it. Take a boat you deliberately sink right into the heart of enemy territory hoping you find them before they find you. Yet, DJ was not only going to do that very thing, he was excited to be doing it.
As Artie Floyd said on the day he met him, “We submariners are indeed an odd lot,” DJ thinks to himself.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry
RE: The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon
26 April 1942, Camp Elliot, CA
Once again the men of the 6th Marines are packing everything up. A convoy is approaching San Diego and will arrive any day. The Marines will load up and be outbound to Hawaii less than two days after those ships arrive. CPT Brett Castlebury is down in the Weapons Platoon area checking up on LT Henderson and the progress they are making with the packing. The mortars and machineguns need to be properly greased to avoid damge from the corrosive sea air. Of course, when the get to Hawaii the weapons will all have to be stripped of the heavy grease so as to be servicable again. Brett doubts the men of the Weapons Platoon will find any other use for the skill later in life, but they are becoming quite proficient at packing and unpacking their gear: grease on, grease off.
Castlebury can see why Henderson was placed in command of the Weapons Platoon. He has a keen sense for the details of the job. Even while conversing with his CO about the upcoming voyage, he catches that two Marines had missed greasing the underside of one of the mortars.
“Corporal, you better get grease on the underside of that mount or it will rust through before we reach Hawaii,” he yells across the room.
The Marine turns the base over and curses at himself for missing it. Hederson has the reputation of being a perfectionist. His men are just now finding out what that means for them. Brett knows from his experience on Iceland that even little details that are overlooked can come back to haunt a man. Yes, Henderson was a bit of a fussbudget, but Castlebury would rather have that than a man who was sloppy.
Once again the men of the 6th Marines are packing everything up. A convoy is approaching San Diego and will arrive any day. The Marines will load up and be outbound to Hawaii less than two days after those ships arrive. CPT Brett Castlebury is down in the Weapons Platoon area checking up on LT Henderson and the progress they are making with the packing. The mortars and machineguns need to be properly greased to avoid damge from the corrosive sea air. Of course, when the get to Hawaii the weapons will all have to be stripped of the heavy grease so as to be servicable again. Brett doubts the men of the Weapons Platoon will find any other use for the skill later in life, but they are becoming quite proficient at packing and unpacking their gear: grease on, grease off.
Castlebury can see why Henderson was placed in command of the Weapons Platoon. He has a keen sense for the details of the job. Even while conversing with his CO about the upcoming voyage, he catches that two Marines had missed greasing the underside of one of the mortars.
“Corporal, you better get grease on the underside of that mount or it will rust through before we reach Hawaii,” he yells across the room.
The Marine turns the base over and curses at himself for missing it. Hederson has the reputation of being a perfectionist. His men are just now finding out what that means for them. Brett knows from his experience on Iceland that even little details that are overlooked can come back to haunt a man. Yes, Henderson was a bit of a fussbudget, but Castlebury would rather have that than a man who was sloppy.
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry