The Road to Mandalay: Burma was, I think, his biggest frustration in the game. Again and again he thrust against the Irrawaddy Line, when one attempt failed he would shift his point of attack and try again. Several times he almost succeeded but I had divisions behind the line rotating to cover trouble spots and I was working on interior lines. He was never able to break through. I also had the entire coast fortified, from Moulmein to Alor Star. Every base was covered by at least a division or a regiment and there was a reserve at Bangkok. This, and the fact that Andaman was like a bone in his throat, kept him from trying a flanking maneuver.
I always wondered what happened in that area. You did mention a couple of times about the epic stand of the IJA along that line. (And it sounds like Rangoon was captured because of Japanese withdrawal rather than skilled Allied attack, just as historically happened.)
Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?
Think for just a moment about the amazing, almost impossible good fortune of the Hibiki. Her survival is miraculous, especially considering that far from holding her back you threw her into most of the major engagements.
You're quite right. Hibiki's luck went beyond good almost into the realm of weird. Even my wife is starting to listen when I talk about converting the spare bedroom into a shrine to Benzaiten.
One last question - did the game end due to auto victory or by agreement of the players?
By agreement. We probably would have continued beyond this point had Wolff not been deployed, but that really put the brakes on what had been a fast-moving game. At the end the score was about 60,000 Allied to 45,000 Japanese. The way his strategic bombing campaign was going he probably would have managed a victory on points.
Just wanted to add my belated thanks for the epic saga you have engrossed us mere mortals with these past years [&o]
I know you probably want to concentrate on AE now, but an epilogue for the return home of the weary warriors would be appreciated, at your convenience of course.
This AAR, this tale, did not start out the way it ended up. My original idea was simply to chronicle the game by following one ship. I wanted to make it a bit more than just the dry noting of where it was and what it was doing each day, but I didn’t have any ambition beyond that. I introduced a few members of the crew so that we could follow their letters and diary entries, etc., but they didn’t really exist in my mind as characters, if that makes sense.
To my surprise, though, people were interested in the idea from the beginning. And as I wrote I became interested in the people that I was writing about. Slowly I started telling stories, rather than just writing about the war, and as more and more people started reading and commenting I became more confident in what I was doing.
I have maintained from the beginning that the success of “Small Ship” stemmed not from my skill as a writer but from the hunger of my readers for a halfway decent war story. I won’t try to be entirely modest; there are at least a few entries that I have gone back and read and thought “dang, that’s not bad.” And I did get better with practice. But mostly I just don’t think there are a lot of stories like it out there any more.
I tried to write as objectively as I could, without dragging politics into it any more than I had to. It is a little tricky doing that when writing about a Japanese ship and crew, especially. I tried to show them sympathetically while not whitewashing Japanese behavior during the war. I was also aware that I was writing this on a website that maintains family-friendly standards. In a way that turned out well; I think it gave the AAR the feel of a 1950’s WWII film rather than something more modern, and considering some of the war movies we have seen in recent years that is maybe a good thing.
If I had a theme at all it was this: the war was fought not by planes, ships, tanks, or guns; it was fought by people. Millions of them, and every one a story. Maybe not a pulse-pounding war epic, but still a story. If the most interesting thing someone did during the war was to sling hash in a chow line while trying to think of a new way to serve powdered eggs and spam, well, to him that was the most important story of the war.
I almost never thought about what I was going to write about ahead of time. Some days, of course, events in the game dictated what I would write about. For all the others, mostly I just sat down in front of my computer and waited for something to pop into my head. As threads of plots began to pile up sometimes I would find that they intersected in ways that were unplanned but maybe interesting. It seemed to work out all right.
A lot of the major developments in the story were completely accidental. The whole business with Benzaiten is a good example. What popped into my head one day is that it might be interesting if someone in the crew brought a pet on board while the ship was at Borneo. That led by slow and unforeseen degrees to the snake becoming the ship’s good luck charm.
Another example was what happened to Riku. He was originally just a minor character, mostly comic relief to be stood against the much more tightly-wrapped character of Taiki. But he insisted on shouldering his way forward. Then on a whim I wrote a scene where the crew recovered a case of salted sea urchin eggs. The entry was a tribute to Cap Mandrake but through some twists and turns it ended up turning Riku, already a bit of a ne’er-do-well, into a smuggler. And from there…well, the rest is history.
One final note, before I stop being self-indulgent and start writing epilogues: perhaps the biggest act of hubris I committed in this whole thing was trying to write it from the Japanese point of view. I did not entirely succeed: I don’t think anyone not raised in that culture and time could. But while my Western point of view affected the whole thing I hope that I at least caught enough of the flavor of the Japanese culture and thinking of the time to give it the right flavor.
And to everyone who has said thank-you: you are very, very welcome. It has been a pleasure.
ORIGINAL: Cuttlefish
perhaps the biggest act of hubris I committed in this whole thing was trying to write it from the Japanese point of view. I did not entirely succeed: I don’t think anyone not raised in that culture and time could. But while my Western point of view affected the whole thing I hope that I at least caught enough of the flavor of the Japanese culture and thinking of the time to give it the right flavor.
I hate to say this, CF, but I disagree with you completely. Before this AAR I thought that I knew a little something about Japanese culture, history and mentality. You have proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that my knowledge does not even scratch the surface. I dont know if you had to research the heck out this story, if you knew it all before or if you were making it up as you went along, but I can testify that on several occasions during the life of this AAR, I resorted to asking a friend of mine who has spent the last decade studying Japanese politics and culture (if not history, per se) and spent 4 of those years in Japan, to ask "is this really true"? Invariably, he confirmed what you wrote.
I cannot even imagine how hard it is for someone born and raised outside such a unique and peculiar culture as the Japanese to write in such detail about it, but my vote is that you accomplished your task brilliantly.
[&o][&o][&o][&o]
"Mighty is the Thread! Great are its works and insane are its inhabitants!" -Brother Mynok
The study is long and narrow, with cluttered bookshelves lining the walls along both sides. At the far end sits a desk. Behind the desk a window looks out on a rock garden with a small pond at the center. The only really unusual thing about the garden is the large tortoise ambling slowly past the pond.
Inside the study there is a great deal of clutter. In addition to many, many books the shelves hold a variety of objects, some unremarkable, some rather strange. A large stuffed monitor lizard, for instance, looks down upon the scene with dull glass eyes from atop one shelf. Between two others is a polished wooden plaque upon which several snake skins of various sizes and hues are mounted.
There are some boxes in the center of the floor that show signs of recent packing. The desk is the only piece of furniture that is really tidy; a small stack of books stands in one corner and off to the side is a neat little pile of legal documents.
A man of middle years is standing in front of the desk. He has just taken a small box out of one of the drawers and is sorting slowly through its contents, a pensive look on his face. He looks up as the door at the far end of the room opens. A younger man with wire-rim glasses pokes his head in.
“Mr. Oizuma?” he asks. The man at the desk nods. “I am Saito, from the University. Please forgive my intrusion. If this is a bad time…”
“No, not at all,” says the middle-aged man. “Please, come in. I have been expecting you.” He steps around the desk as Saito and bows. Saito bows back.
“Please permit me to extend my condolences on the death of your father,” says Saito. “He will be greatly missed. I myself took classes from him when I was a student. He was a remarkable scholar.”
“Thank you,” murmurs Oizuma. “He loved his work there. Even after he retired he did not stop writing. The books and papers he left to you and your colleagues are here.” He indicates the stack of boxes. “The specimens he left are in the herpetory…the Snake Room, my brothers and I called it when we were growing up.”
“Thank you. I look forward to seeing them.” He hesitates. “I know this is a difficult time,” he says. “And to ask for a favor is unworthy. But if I may interrupt you for just a moment more…”
“Please,” says Oizuma. “You are not interrupting. In truth collecting these things has been a pleasure, a reminder of what my father accomplished in his life.” He lifts a book from the stack on the corner of the desk and looks through it briefly. “’Reptiles of Borneo,’” he says. “In English. It was translated into seven different languages.”
“It is still the standard reference work on the subject,” says Saito. Oizuma walks around behind his father’s desk.
“When you came in,” he says, “I was just looking through this small collection of items from his time in the Great Pacific War. Tell me, did he ever speak of it to his friends at the University?” Saito shakes his head. Oizuma reaches in and takes out a black and white photograph. He looks at it for a moment and hands it across the desk to Saito. Saito takes it and sees a young man in a navy uniform standing in a very narrow metal passageway. Across his shoulders is draped a thick-bodied snake perhaps five feet long. Saito can make out a resemblance between the young man in the photo and the distinguished professor that he knew.
“That is him,” he murmurs. “And the snake…could it be…?”
“It is,” says Oizuma, nodding. “He picked her up in Balikpapan while serving aboard destroyer Hibiki. I know that much, though he almost never spoke of the war otherwise.”
“Remarkable,” says Saito, handing back the photograph. “Actually, that is what I wished to ask you about. I have never met this famous snake.” Oizuma smiles a little.
“Your wish is no trouble and easily granted,” he says. He gestures to a corner where a large and elegantly made wooden cage sits. Saito crosses and kneels to examine it. The cage is beautifully made and carved with scenes of the goddess Benzaiten from mythology. Inside a six foot long python, red and cream banded with a red tail, is draped in folds over a log. Saito looks up at his host.
“You know,” he says, “that no other specimen has ever been recorded as living more than twenty years,” he says.
“I know,” he says. “All my father would ever say about it is that he was not surprised. I cannot remember a time when Benzaiten was not part of the family, though. I am forty-two years old and she was here before I was born.”
“Remarkable,” says Saito. He turns back to his examination of the python, who lifts her head a little and tests the air with her tongue. “She is not part of the bequest to the University.”
“No,” says Oizuma. “My father’s wishes on the subject were explicit. A man named Kuramata – the same man who made this cage, I believe – is to take her to Enoshima, where she will be released.”
“Enoshima!” says Saito. “But that climate will not be good for a tropical snake!” Oizuma smiles and walks over to stand beside Saito and look into the cage.
“And she may cause consternation among unwary tourists,” he says. “But somehow I have the feeling that she will be just fine.” Benzaiten raises her head a little and regards him with her unwinking gaze for a moment before settling back to her nap.
I hate to say this, CF, but I disagree with you completely. Before this AAR I thought that I knew a little something about Japanese culture, history and mentality. You have proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that my knowledge does not even scratch the surface. I dont know if you had to research the heck out this story, if you knew it all before or if you were making it up as you went along, but I can testify that on several occasions during the life of this AAR, I resorted to asking a friend of mine who has spent the last decade studying Japanese politics and culture (if not history, per se) and spent 4 of those years in Japan, to ask "is this really true"? Invariably, he confirmed what you wrote.
I cannot even imagine how hard it is for someone born and raised outside such a unique and peculiar culture as the Japanese to write in such detail about it, but my vote is that you accomplished your task brilliantly.
Thank you, Onime. That's more gratifying than you can imagine. I knew next to nothing when I started but I put hundreds of hours of research into it, probably more time than I spent doing the actual writing. I guess it paid off.
Not just about Japan; knowing my audience was composed of grognards I tried to get as many details right as I could. For example, one entry had a man coming across a copy of Shiro's book in at an SS Kresge's store in Omaha in 1960. There really was a Kresge's store there then; it took longer to confirm that than it did to write the entry but I made sure.
“Remarkable,” says Saito. He turns back to his examination of the python, who lifts her head a little and tests the air with her tongue. “She is not part of the bequest to the University.”
“No,” says Oizuma. “My father’s wishes on the subject were explicit. A man named Kuramata – the same man who made this cage, I believe – is to take her to Enoshima, where she will be released.”
“Enoshima!” says Saito. “But that climate will not be good for a tropical snake!” Oizuma smiles and walks over to stand beside Saito and look into the cage.
“And she may cause consternation among unwary tourists,” he says. “But somehow I have the feeling that she will be just fine.” Benzaiten raises her head a little and regards him with her unwinking gaze for a moment before settling back to her nap.
Must resist urge to edit Wikipedia page on Enoshima....
Must resist....
“You know,” he says, “that no other specimen has ever been recorded as living more than twenty years,” he says.
“I know,” he says. “All my father would ever say about it is that he was not surprised.
Let me confess that I was surprised. But immensely gratified.
Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?
I simply have to add my thanks for your great story here. Small Ship - Big War is amongst the best things I have ever read and definitely the single best AAR ever (sorry, Cap. Mandrake, your AAR is very, very good, but Cuttlefish simply beat you)
Reding the last few entries, a thought, maybe a crazy thought, crossed my mind.
A long time ago, I bought the SSI RPG "Buck Rogers, Countdown to Doomsday". In the box where the floppies, the game manual and an actual Buck Rogers novelle.
Now, as I said, I know it sounds crazy, but perhaps it would be possible to put a printed version of your, hm, story is too weak a word, masterpiece? Yes that sounds fitting, in a future Witp 2?
Anyway, whatever you do, I can only repeat/join the plea: please please please make a book out of this AAR and put me down for two exemplars
"Tell the King: After the battle my head is at his disposal, during the battle he may allow me to use it!
GenLt. Seydlitz to Frederik the Great after disobeying an order to attack
(Note: I dropped a hint about this scene a long time ago. It’s only fair to mention that Capt. Harlock picked up on it then and made a correct prediction, since here we are at last.)
April 1961, Washington D.C.
President Kennedy sits back behind his desk as the dignitary leaves. The others in the Oval Office, including Secretary of State Dean Rusk, sit as well. The men talk for a brief moment about the meeting just concluded and then Evelyn Lincoln steps into the room. Kennedy looks up.
“Who’s next, Evelyn?” he asks.
“The Japanese Deputy Minister of Finance,” she says. To the surprise of the others Kennedy’s face breaks into a broad smile.
“Send him in,” he says. She departs through the northwest door and returns a moment later followed by the Japanese dignitary. Kennedy stands and comes around his desk and then astonishes everyone by bowing in front of his visitor.
The Japanese dignitary is young, perhaps in his early 40’s; it is difficult for the others in the room to judge his age. He is not tall but carries himself well, dignified but with an underlying air of restrained energy. His eyes are sharp and alert. One gains the impression, looking at him, that this is not a man one would want to face in a high-stakes game of poker. He is wearing an impeccably tailored dark suit with a red tie and is carrying a briefcase. He bows in return, considerably lower than did the President.
When the two men straighten the President grins again and extends his hand. The dignitary takes it and then suffers himself to be pulled into a brief embrace and have his shoulder pounded. Kennedy then holds him out at arm’s length and now both men are smiling.
“Riku-san, you old bandit,” says the President. “It’s great to see you again. You look good.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” says Riku. “It is good to see you as well. You look, I must say, very much better than the last time I saw you.” His English is almost perfect. Kennedy laughs and turns to the others, who are standing and somewhat dumbstruck.
“Gentlemen,” Kennedy says, “may I introduce Mr. Ariga Riku. This is the man who saved my life in Japan.”
“I had considerable help,” Riku demurs.
“Without you it would not have happened, though,” says Kennedy. His manner turns more businesslike. “What can we do for you today, Mr. Ariga?”
“Mr. President,” says Riku, “I bring several proposals from my government which I believe will be to the financial benefit of both our peoples.” Kennedy turns to Rusk and the others.
“Hold on to your wallets, everyone,” he says dryly. “We are about to get our pockets picked.”
---
The proposals are briefly outlined and discussed and then a meeting is set up for the next day with the appropriate people. The President sees Riku to the door.
“How are your children?” he asks. “You have, what, six of them now?”
“They are all quite well, thank you,” says Riku. “They are back home on Okinawa being looked after by their grandfather at present. He spoils them terribly.” This last is said in a tone almost of wonder and for a moment his gaze turns inward, as if at a distant memory.
“Jackie and I were hoping that you and Nanami would join us for dinner tomorrow night,” says Kennedy. “Mark Turnby and his wife are coming down from Baltimore. It would be a fine reunion and Jackie very much wants to meet you.”
