The Insidious Glen is, without the slightest doubt, the most infernal machine devised by man. The Kate has a sharp sting, the Val drops a mighty egg, but the sneaking snake known as the Insidious Glen (most foul) brings home intelligence without a peer. It is proof, yet again, that the pen is indeed more mighty than the sword.
Its a two edged sword IMHO .. princep01 .. Stealth is the weapon of a submarine .. as the story goes .. as soon as those Glen's are spotted out goes the ASW groups and probably patrol aircraft concentrated now having a vector to search ...
I look forward to the Gridley finding an IJN Submarine ..[;)]
"What gets us into trouble is not what we don't know. It's what we know for sure that just ain't so"
Crackaces, I'd respectfully have to disagree. What is the relative value of giving away the location of an I-boat to discovering a large concentration of Allied shipping, a significant SCTF or better yet, a pair of CVs in port? I wage you'd agree it is a small price to pay, particularly when the subs actual location is not known and can be anywhere within six hexes (?) of said port. Finally, while ASW is fairly effective at this point in the war, attacking the hunted may make him the hunter instead....and those IJN torpedos tend to explode with regularity thoughout the war:).
So, on balance, I'll concede it is a two edged sword, but one edge is significantly sharper than the other.
And Cuttlefish, it is so nice to see you posting again.
Location: Sydney
Course: None
Attached to: TF 154
Mission: Surface Combat
Ship's Status: Sys damage 1
Fuel: 525 (100%)
The ship’s officers file into Gridley’s wardroom. Captain Stickney has come back aboard after attending a hurried meeting called by Admiral Halsey. Presumably the captain has news about the ship’s next move.
Inside the wardroom the officers grab cups of coffee and take their seats. Outside the crew waits. No one has actually set foot in Sydney yet and there is general apprehension that the appearance of the Japanese snooper the day before will cause them to depart before they can.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Stickney tells the men. His face has its habitually stern look. “As you know, we were supposed to remain at Sydney for a bit. But the Japs know we’re here now. Admiral Halsey doesn’t like that.” There are some long faces around the table, but no one says anything.
“Therefore,” Stickney continues, “the fleet is going to pull out.” There are a few low groans at this. “The carriers are going to head south and transit the Bass Strait. With luck the Japanese will detect this move and think the carriers are moving towards Perth. However, once out of the strait they are going to pick up speed and buttonhook sharply back towards New Zealand. They will relocate to Auckland. Away from prying eyes this time, the admiral hopes.”
“We are going with them?” asks Lieutenant Steubens. And now Captain Stickney’s face shows just the hint of a smile.
“Admiral Halsey thinks,” he says, “that enough ships should remain behind to give the impression that we’re all still here, just in case the Japs don’t pick up on the Bass Strait move. He thinks that the slow battleships are the best candidates for that job. That means that they, and we, are going to remain here for the time being.”
Now there are grins all around the table.
“Fred, draw up a liberty schedule,” says the captain. “But let me remind you all that this is not just a social call. We are being asked to be a diversion. The Japs know we’re here and there’s no guarantee that they won’t come looking for trouble. There’s not much here by way of air cover and with the carriers gone we might be in trouble if they do. This is not going to be a floating party, gentlemen. We are a warship on a mission.
“That said,” he adds, “make sure you all get ashore. This is a great town. Just don’t get into any drinking contests with the Australians.” He shudders, just slightly. “Take it from an old hand, that is one thing you do not want to do.”
Location: Sydney
Course: None
Attached to: TF 154
Mission: Surface Combat
Ship's Status: Sys damage 1
Fuel: 525 (100%)
The Japanese certainly do notice the Allied move through the Bass Strait. Not only are there multiple sightings of enemy submarines, one of them manages to put a torpedo into North Carolina. But the battleship is not badly hurt and continues to lead the surface combat task force accompanying the carriers.
As soon as the ships are through the Strait they turn sharply and loop around Tasmania, heading back east. As far as they can tell this move is not observed by the Japanese. With luck the ships can make their way to New Zealand unobserved and keep the Japanese guessing about their location and intentions.
***
Meanwhile, back in Sydney…
Lieutenant JG Lawrence Courtney, Gridley’s assistant damage control officer, was not a bad guy, not really. Back home in upstate New York he was a gracious winner on the tennis court and, when he spent the night with a woman below his social standing, he usually bought her something nice before sending her on her way.
He was perhaps not even hopeless as a naval officer. He was reasonably intelligent and had a way of dealing with people that might, given time, be translated into leadership. Captain Stickney and Lieutenant Steubens thought he had some potential. But they also thought that the potential was currently buried beneath a layer of privilege and resentment. Courtney was the son of a wealthy and influential businessman whose father had arranged with his friend the congressman for Courtney’s entry into Officer Candidate School.
The Navy in general and Gridley in particular had been a shock to the young man. Aboard the destroyer no one cared who you were, only what you did. Captain Stickney was a perfectionist and Lieutenant Steubens was little better. Steubens had had harsh words about with Courtney about his performance several times. As a result Courtney was nursing a chip on his shoulder. It just wasn’t fair, he told himself. It had not quite gotten through to him yet that the Navy was in no way about fairness.
But still, he was trying. His work had gotten better and he was beginning to glimpse that there was something to being a man among other men, to earning respect rather than having it handed to him as his due. He was not sure, though, that his efforts had earned any notice from his fellow officers. So he was pleasantly surprised when Ensign Puhls, the signals officer, stuck his head into the cabin they shared.
“Hey Larry,” Puhls said. “Wrinkles knows a guy aboard New Mexico, he’s got us an invite to a shindig some Aussie brass are throwing in town.” “Wrinkles” was Lieutenant JG Holbrook, one of the coding officers under Lieutenant Coszyk. “There’s going to be some girls there, and free booze. Sounds like a good time. Want to come along? Steubens says it’s okay.”
Courtney was immensely pleased to be included. He opened his mouth to jump at the chance, then closed it when he remembered that Al Tanner had wanted to meet with him later about something. Tanner had been cagey about what it was, but Courtney had the feeling that he wanted Courtney to help him get away with something that was not strictly regulation.
This was a dilemma. Tanner had been a sympathetic ear for Courtney’s complaints and had even intimated that he had connections that might make things easier for Courtney, if the ensign played his cards right. Just what those connections were had not been specified yet. Tanner would not be pleased if Courtney welshed on him tonight.
To tell the truth, though he was loath to admit it, Courtney was a bit afraid of Tanner. The man might be a common deckhand, but there was something vaguely threatening about him. It might be Ranker and Vick, the two hulking sailors who seemed to follow him everywhere, but Courtney thought it was more than that.
Some turning points are so subtle they go unrecognized at the time. Ensign Courtney hesitated for a long moment, caught between the chance to make some friends and worry about disappointing Tanner. Puhls cleared his throat.
“The jeep will be here for us pretty quick,” he said. “You in?” Reluctantly Courtney shook his head.
“Thanks a lot, Andy,” he said, “but I can’t. I’ve…” he groped for an excuse. “I’ve got a date lined up this evening.”
“Oh yeah?” said Puhls. “Good for you! You can tell me all about her tomorrow. Hey, I know, bring her around to the party later, if you can. Here’s the address.” He jotted it on a scrap of paper lying on the desk they shared.
“I might do that,” said Courtney with a hollow smile. Puhls left and Courtney slumped onto his bunk. Already he regretted his decision.
welcome back Cuttlefish, i'm glad you're posting again! i can only hope you get as much fun from writing your 'narrative AAR' as i (& some few others here) get from reading it.
i've been a Patrick O'Brian fanboy for quite awhile now, he got a lot of his inspiration from historical events, to the point where he'd be reading ship's logbooks, contemporary deck-plans, and old publications such as the 'Naval Chronicle' to populate his imagination.
i like the way you do your thing in a similar way, such as linking to tech-info for the Gridley's new DC-throwers recently, or mentioning one of the Great Lakes training stations earlier in your story.
Location: Sydney
Course: None
Attached to: TF 154
Mission: Surface Combat
Ship's Status: Sys damage 1
Fuel: 525 (100%)
As night fell over Sydney activity in the harbor and along the waterfront slowed dramatically. It had to – Sydney was under blackout restrictions and the night was dark. The moon was past half full and waxing, and when it peeked out through the clouds the silhouettes of warships could seen at anchor out across silvery glints of moonlight on the water. At rest were the ferries, the luxury yachts converted to patrol craft, and the ship’s boats which plied the harbor during the daytime.
Gridley was tied up, for this night and the next, at the naval pier in Farm Cove, near central Sydney. Ensign Courtney was the OOD. He paced the deck near the gangway and from time to time used a small flashlight to check his watch. No one else was on deck to observe him but if anyone had been they might have said the young officer seemed nervous.
Finally, not long after 11pm, there came the sound of footsteps ascending the gangway. Courtney could just make out the forms of sailors Tanner and Vick as they came on board.
“You’re late!” Courtney hissed.
“We were delayed,” said Tanner, blandly but quietly. His eyes glinted in the dark as he looked around. “Is Masterson around?” Tanner was referring to Chief Petty Officer Masterson, master of the deck force and Tanner’s personal nemesis.
“No, I gave him some busy work below decks,” said Courtney. He eyed the heavy duffel bags both sailors were carrying. “What’s in those, anyway?”
He was not supposed to ask that question. That had been part of the deal he had arranged with Tanner – no questions. Tanner, Ranker, and Vick had not been logged out and they were not going to be logged back in. Their business was their own.
“Koala bears,” said Tanner shortly. “Carved from teak. They’ll be a sensation back home, make us a mint. C’mon, Vick.” The two men started towards the galley passageway.
“Wait, where’s Ranker?” Courtney asked.
“He was…delayed,” said Tanner. “He’ll be along, no worries.” And with that he and Vick were gone.
Courtney turned away. He shouldn’t have agreed to this, he knew that. But Tanner had offered him a lot of money.
“And besides,” the sailor had said, “the Navy takes advantage of us every chance it gets. Nothing wrong with getting a little of our own back, right?” The argument had appealed to the gnawing resentment Courtney felt at being mistreated. But now, in the quiet of the night, that argument seemed rather hollow.
Well, no point in crying over spilled milk now, the ensign thought. Besides, it was probably all pretty harmless anyway.
He hoped Ranker got back before middle watch, though. It might raise some uncomfortable questions if he didn’t. Courtney no sooner had this thought when Ranker ascended the gangway. The big sailor was panting slightly. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Courtney thought that he might be holding one of his arms awkwardly as well.
“Tanner get here already?” Ranker asked in his deep, raspy voice. Courtney was annoyed. He was the officer here, wasn’t he?
“Don’t you mean ‘sir’?” he said pointedly.
“Yeah, sure…sir,” Ranker said casually. Dammit, thought Courtney, he wouldn’t talk like that to Lieutenant Steubens, he sure wouldn’t. But this was not the time or place to get into an argument about it.
“Yes, he arrived not long ago. Now get below,” he said. And Ranker went, without another word.
He’d have to talk to Tanner about that later, Courtney thought. They might be friends, might even be doing a little friendly business together, but he was still an officer. He deserved some respect.
Why, I do believe that our over-privileged friend just committed a court martial offense. With enough bloody-mindedness it could even be argue that he endangered the ship in wartime. [X(]
"Mighty is the Thread! Great are its works and insane are its inhabitants!" -Brother Mynok
Location: Sydney
Course: None
Attached to: TF 154
Mission: Surface Combat
Ship's Status: Sys damage 1
Fuel: 525 (100%)
Captain Stickney strode briskly down Manning Street. Though in no particular hurry, he was not the type to stroll. He walked everywhere quickly, as though late for an appointment. He was tall and lean and swung his arms from the shoulder as he went along, still reminiscent, despite the grey in his hair, of the runner he had been at Annapolis years ago.
He turned into an old building, an ornate building that had begun life 110 years ago as an example of Georgian Regency architecture. It was then the residence of Bishop Broughton, the first Anglican Bishop of Australia. It had since then been both a hospital and a hotel, acquiring columns and a Victorian-style second floor veranda along the way. Now the building, vacant the last several years, had been converted into a club for U.S. officers.
The polished teak bar had once been a reception desk, welcoming variously patients or guests, depending on the period of the building’s history. The dark wooden floor was covered with tables and chairs. Many were occupied, but as he peered through the haze of smoke Stickney caught sight of a waving arm. He headed in that direction.
At the table was Captain Lewis, an old friend from Stickney’s Annapolis days. These days he was a member of Admiral Shafroth’s staff.
“Hey there, Stick, glad you could make it,” Lewis said, standing and shaking Stickney’s hand. Only old friends called Gridley’s captain “Stick”.
“Good to see you, Lew,” said Stickney. Both men sat and Stickney ordered a gin and tonic. The two men exchanged family news for a bit, then the talk turned to matters of war.
“What do you hear?” Stickney asked his friend. “You’re a lot better placed to get news than I am.”
“Not a lot,” Lewis confessed. “The carriers are well on their way to Auckland, no problems since North Carolina stopped that torpedo. The admiral got a briefing from the Army yesterday. Apparently some Jap armor is scuffling with the Aussies out in the desert, at Tennant Creek. Otherwise the Japs are being damned quiet almost everywhere.”
“I’m surprised we haven’t pushed them out of the desert yet,” said Stickney.
“Oh, there are enough troops out there to roll them all the way back to Darwin,” Lewis said. “The US army has hundreds of tanks and tank destroyers in the desert. But it’s rather odd. The Aussies haven’t been able to get enough supplies out there to support an attack. There’s a damned lot of nothing out there, you know, and one road. Most of the trucks they send break down along the way. It’s gotten to be such a problem that they’re beginning to suspect sabotage. One Australian brigadier was ranting that the Japanese must have enrolled the natives as a sixth column and they’re sabotaging all the trucks. Putting sugar in the gas tanks or something, I guess.”
“I hear there’s a lot of pressure to get something done out there,” said Stickney.
“Oh yes. It’s ‘sacred Australian soil’ and all that,” said Lewis. “Word is that there’s a lot of politicking going on, our guys trying to convince the Aussies that the best way to get their territory back is to attack the Japs somewhere else.”
“It’s easy to want to help them,” commented Stickney. “They’ve been nothing but friendly since we’ve been here. Very generous.”
“They have,” agreed Lewis. “I hear that from all over. And I couldn’t blame them if they were otherwise. The military’s been spreading across the waterfront like crabgrass. Us, the Australians, the British, even some French and Dutch. And it’s caused problems. Black market activity, whores, crime, all that.”
“It doesn’t hurt that we spend a lot of money,” Stickney said.
“So cynical,” said Lewis. “Though true, to an extent. But they really are generous people. That’s why I hate to get reports like the one from last night. Pawnshop got knocked over, owner badly beaten when he heard a noise and came out to investigate. But he was able to tell the police that the attackers had American accents.” Stickney frowned.
“It only takes a few bad apples,” he said, “to give all of us a bad reputation.”
“Yeah, but there are always bad apples,” said Lewis. “We both know that sailors aren’t usually candidates for sainthood.”
“Tough men for a tough job,” said Stickney. “Sure. But there’s a difference between knocking back a few too many beers and getting in a fight and doing something like that.” His features, which had relaxed, became for a moment even more stern than usual. “If any of my men tried something like that I would be tempted to give keelhauling a try. I truly would.”
Location: Sydney
Course: None
Attached to: TF 154
Mission: Surface Combat
Ship's Status: Sys damage 1
Fuel: 525 (100%)
It was a pleasantly mild, almost cool, evening in Sydney. Gridley was now anchored out in the bay off Clarke Island. In the officer’s wardroom dinner was being served. Stewards Scott and Moxen, immaculate in their dress whites, moved silently back and forth between the pantry scuttle and the table, setting the officer’s plates in front of them.
As always, the other officers waited for Captain Stickney to begin before digging into their own food. For a time conversation was light and the main sound was the rattle of cutlery. After the meal was cleared and coffee served, however, the talk at the table turned to more serious matters.
“I don’t understand why we aren’t taking the war to the Japs yet,” said Lieutenant JG Sherwood. “We’ve got almost the whole damned Navy down here in the South Pacific now. What are we waiting for?”
“I think a better question,” Lieutenant JG Cameron said slowly, “is ‘what are the Japs waiting for?’” Captain Stickney had leaned back in his chair but was following the conversation with interest. He liked to encourage his officers to think strategically.
“What do you mean, Lieutenant?” he now asked Cameron.
“Well, sir,” said Cameron “I just mean that what I think the Japs are waiting for, is us. If I was them I’d be sitting back and waiting for us to try something. They know we have to, sooner or later. When we do they’ll hit back, hard.”
“And our brass knows that,” added Lieutenant Steubens. “So they aren’t going to move until they think we can win.”
“It would be nice,” said Lieutenant Coszyk, “if the Japanese would come out and give us a shot at them.”
“They’ve been too smart for that,” said Steubens. “The Nips aren’t stupid. They got their oil, their tin, their rubber, everything they wanted. Now they’re going to make us go in and take it back.”
“Too bad success didn’t go to their heads,” Cameron said. “It would have been nice if all that victory had made them overconfident, if they’d just kept pushing until they stuck their necks out too far somewhere.”
“What,” asked Steubens, “like trying to invade Fiji or Midway or something?”
“Yeah,” said Cameron. “Exactly. Then we could hurt them. As it is, we’re going to have to go dig them out of somewhere. And it isn’t going to be easy.”
“I don’t expect it to be easy,” said Ensign Puhls. “But I sure am ready to give it a try.”
“I wonder where it will be?” Sherwood asked. Captain Stickney cleared his throat.
“As to that,” he said, “I don’t have any idea. And I am pretty certain that the Navy isn’t going to tell us in advance. One day we’ll be ordered out and pretty soon people will start shooting at us.”
“That’s okay, sir,” replied Steubens. “We’ll be ready. I just hope it will be as much of a surprise to the Japs as it is to us.”
Location: Sydney
Course: None
Attached to: TF 154
Mission: Surface Combat
Ship's Status: Sys damage 1
Fuel: 525 (100%)
From the log of Dr. Albert Corwin, ship’s medical officer:
August 22: Treated SC1 Thomas Ranker for slight fracture of right forearm. Patient said he injured arm when he slipped on wet deck plates. Applied splint, advised ten days light duty.
August 23: Treated TM Samual Carovich for cut on forehead. Three stitches. Patient said he fell while drinking ashore and broke a chair with his forehead.
August 23: SC2 Andrew Gray came to dispensary complaining of tooth pain. After examination referred patient to shore facility for extraction of upper left molar.
August 25: RM Rudy Bronkhorst fell into ship’s boat after falling off pier. Re-socketed dislocated left shoulder. Advised one week light duty.
August 26: Treated SC1 Matthew Hobart for infestation of pthirus pubis. MYL powder prescribed. Advised patient to remain celibate until treatment complete.
August 26: Treated CPO Marcus Helguist for first-degree steam burns on right hand and forearm.
August 28: Treated SC2 Phillip Manning for injured right hand. Injury sustained while ashore, knuckles cut and bruised, hand swollen. Advised patient that striking someone in the abdomen causes less injury to hands than striking them on the jaw.
August 29: Treated SF Antonio Garibaldi for infestation of pthirus pubis. MYL powder prescribed. Advised patient to remain celibate until treatment complete.
August 29: GM Lester Dahlgren came into dispensary complaining of weakness and chills. Fever 102, lymph nodes slightly swollen. Advised hydration and bed rest. Placed patient on sick roll.
August 30: SC1 complained of painful itching on left arm. On examination arm was found to be covered by a severe rash. Patient said he had reached into water and encountered small purple jellyfish. Species tentatively identified as pelagica noctiluca. Applied cold compress, told patient to return for further treatment if symptoms persist.
Just caught up on this AAR, now I have to wait for the next update... [:(] Thanks for this amazing AAR, Cuttlefish! [&o]
ORIGINAL: Cuttlefish
On the subcontinent itself the Australians reported that nearly one hundred tanks, Matildas and Stuarts, were on the road heading west across the sparsely inhabited interior.
Post #250
What, no backlash from Down Under? Must be true, then... [;)]
August 28: Treated SC2 Phillip Manning for injured right hand. Injury sustained while ashore, knuckles cut and bruised, hand swollen. Advised patient that striking someone in the abdomen causes less injury to hands than striking them on the jaw.
Hey, thanks for the tip, Doc! [:D]
"Mighty is the Thread! Great are its works and insane are its inhabitants!" -Brother Mynok
Location: Sydney
Course: None
Attached to: TF 154
Mission: Surface Combat
Ship's Status: Sys damage 1
Fuel: 525 (100%)
“Hey, Rudy. How’s the shoulder?” Bill Bonderman asks Rudy Bronkhorst, who has just entered the radio room. Bronkhorst maneuvers his large frame through the cramped room and into the second chair.
“It’s pretty good,” he says. “Don’t hurt no more. There been much traffic?”
“Nope, pretty light,” says Bonderman. “Glad to hear it about the shoulder, you could have been hurt a lot worse, falling into the boat like that.” Bronkhorst pauses while reaching for his headphones, then turns his head to face Bonderman.
“If I tell you something,” he says, “can you keep it to yourself?” The big man’s face is unusually serious. Bonderman just nods.
“I wouldn’t even ask,” says Rudy. “You ain’t no chatterbox, that’s for sure. But this…well, I dunno…”
“What is it, Rudy?” asks Bonderman.
“Thing is,” says Bronkhorst, “I didn’t fall into that boat. I was pushed.” Bonderman raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know, that isn’t what I told ya the first time. But I got a feeling that things ain’t over, and…well, I trust ya.”
“Go on,” says Bill quietly.
“There was maybe six of us on the pier waiting for the boat,” says Bronkhorst.”One of ‘em was Vick. We kind of bunched up by the ladder as it came alongside and just when I was stepping forward I got kinda nudged. Just enough to lose my balance. No one saw anything and I can’t prove it, but it was Vick. I know it was.”
“Because you aren’t part of Tanner’s little gang anymore,” says Bonderman. Rudy nods.
“You got it,” he says. “Tanner, he don’t like that much. And he’s mean as a snake. I bet told Vick to do it. Vick, he’s pretty good at the rough stuff, but he doesn’t change his shorts unless Tanner tells him to.”
Bonderman’s long, lean face takes on a grim look and his gray eyes go flat. Any number of the Texan’s old acquaintances would have recognized that look and very quickly found somewhere else to be. But to Bronkhorst this look is new.
“You can’t tell anyone,” he says hastily. “I got no proof.”
“I said I wouldn’t tell, and I won’t,” says Bill. His drawl is now more pronounced. “But I am gettin’ just a little bit tired of Mr. Al Tanner, I surely am.”
“I don’t want you to get in any trouble on my account,” says Bronkhorst. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, Rudy,” Bonderman says. “And doesn’t the Bible tells us to turn the other cheek, and that a soft answer will turneth away wrath?”
“Maybe so,” says Bronkhorst, “but I don’t think that bunch spends too much time reading the Bible.”
“Well, there you go,” Bonderman says. “Maybe someone should educate them. Maybe someone should read them a few lessons out of the Good Book.”
ORIGINAL: Cuttlefish
August 23: Treated TM Samual Carovich for cut on forehead. Three stitches. Patient said he fell while drinking ashore and broke a chair with his forehead.
[:)]
WitP-AE -- US LCU & AI Stuff
Oddball: Why don't you knock it off with them negative waves? Why don't you dig how beautiful it is out here? Why don't you say something righteous and hopeful for a change? Moriarty: Crap!
