11 February 1942, San Francisco, CA
LT(jg) Hank Tyler and Emily Stebbins were walking up the street towards her family's home. They had enjoyed a nice dinner at the Whitcomb Hotel, but both of them were not in the mood for a movie tonight. They walked slowly mostly in silence. Neither of them could find the right words to say, and fear of saying the wrong thing kept them tacit.
“Emily”, Hank said awkwardly. “I know we just met. I have no idea where I am going and if I did, I couldn't tell you anyway. I would never think to ask you to wait for me considering we have only known each other for a few weeks. Its just that ….”
“Hank”, she said sweetly. “You don't have to ask me to wait for you because I have already decided that I will”.
“Wow”, he almost gasped. “I didn't see that coming”
“Now you need to promise me, LT Henry Tyler of the US Navy that you won't go off to far off exotic places and fall in love with some dark eyed Polynesian girl or the deal is off”, Emily said sternly.
“Miss Emily Stebbins of the San Francisco Stebbinses”, he said taking her hand. “I hereby pledge my faithfulness to you and promise that I will return to you post haste”, he said mockingly.
“So its is said, so shall it be done”, she pronounced in the same tone.
“Emily”, Hank said. “I want you to keep something for me”
He slid his Academy ring off his right hand and handed it to her.
“Its the only thing of real value I own”, he said. “Please keep it safe”
“I will”, she said
She kissed him then turned to run up to her door. She did not want him to see the tears. She had promised herself that she would not cry in front of him.
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
12 February 1942, Wellington, New Zealand
The sleepy little port at the southern tip of the North Island had become the home away from home for the US Navy's carrier fleet. The near constant Japanese submarine sightings up near Auckland made it a necessity. Already the I-boats had claimed dozens of merchant vessels and auxiliaries. To date, no USN warship had fallen prey to a sub attack and Admiral Halsey intended to keep it that way.
Word had gotten out that some intelligence weenie had gotten scent that the Japanese were going to make a move on Fiji. The Enterprise and her cohorts would sortie in a few days to meet up with a large troop convoy coming down from the West Coast. It seems the powers that be had finally drawn a line in the sand. While none of the pilots were excited about the prospect that they would be herding a bunch of merchies, it helped to know that they would be finally doing something besides steaming in endless circles around the South Pacific.
The sleepy little port at the southern tip of the North Island had become the home away from home for the US Navy's carrier fleet. The near constant Japanese submarine sightings up near Auckland made it a necessity. Already the I-boats had claimed dozens of merchant vessels and auxiliaries. To date, no USN warship had fallen prey to a sub attack and Admiral Halsey intended to keep it that way.
Word had gotten out that some intelligence weenie had gotten scent that the Japanese were going to make a move on Fiji. The Enterprise and her cohorts would sortie in a few days to meet up with a large troop convoy coming down from the West Coast. It seems the powers that be had finally drawn a line in the sand. While none of the pilots were excited about the prospect that they would be herding a bunch of merchies, it helped to know that they would be finally doing something besides steaming in endless circles around the South Pacific.
"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 February 1942, Naval Ordinance Factory, Washington Naval Yard
LT(jg) Greg Cummins is looking over the final assembly of several K-gun depth charge launchers. A rather simple device he thought. It is really nothing more than an overgrown smooth bore musket. The shot in this case is an arbor that holds the depth charge. When the breech charge is fired the expanding gases shoot the arbor with attached depth charge out away from the ship. Even if simple, the K-gun would vastly improve the USN's ASW effectiveness. Instead of having to drive the ship over the exact position of the sub to drop depth charges off stern rails, the K-guns would allow destroyers and other ASW vessels to fire large patterns covering nearly an eighth mile circle.
Greg found himself with a growing hatred for submarines. All the sinkings of merchant shipping right off the US coast had made it personal to him. When he finally got the combat billet he had been jonesing for, he hoped it would be a destroyer. He was looking forward to killing a few U-boats to settle some scores. Greg even found that he disliked the USN submariners. He figured he takes a certain type of sneaky, low-life to even volunteer for sub duty.
LT(jg) Greg Cummins is looking over the final assembly of several K-gun depth charge launchers. A rather simple device he thought. It is really nothing more than an overgrown smooth bore musket. The shot in this case is an arbor that holds the depth charge. When the breech charge is fired the expanding gases shoot the arbor with attached depth charge out away from the ship. Even if simple, the K-gun would vastly improve the USN's ASW effectiveness. Instead of having to drive the ship over the exact position of the sub to drop depth charges off stern rails, the K-guns would allow destroyers and other ASW vessels to fire large patterns covering nearly an eighth mile circle.
Greg found himself with a growing hatred for submarines. All the sinkings of merchant shipping right off the US coast had made it personal to him. When he finally got the combat billet he had been jonesing for, he hoped it would be a destroyer. He was looking forward to killing a few U-boats to settle some scores. Greg even found that he disliked the USN submariners. He figured he takes a certain type of sneaky, low-life to even volunteer for sub duty.
"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 February, 1942, Iceland
The men of 3rd platoon were gathered for mail call. Some of the married men and those with girls back home were hoping for something for Valentine's Day. While the US military mail was no where near that predictable, some men did actually receive a package from their wives or sweethearts. One poor sap had received a tin of sugar cookies from his grandmother. The men in his squad gathered around him were giving him all sorts of grief and making kissing sounds.
“All right, you next one of you who makes a smart ass remark is not getting a cookie”, the embattled Marine said.
With that the group went silent. The tin was open and each man in the squad was handed one of the golden treasures. The Marine approach LT Castlebury.
“Lieutenant?”, he said with his hand outstretched with a cookie.
“Thank you, Private”, Brett replied taking the cookie.
He had thought about refusing out of courtesy. Then he looked at the men who all received one already, and they were all in a state of bliss as the munched their gift. He took a small bite so as to savor it. The private's grandmother should be proud. It may have been the best cookie he had ever eaten.
Brett looked around the room and to a man, each recipient had a distant look on his face. They were all back home in their minds. It was amazing how something as simple as a sugar cookie could be so powerful.
The men of 3rd platoon were gathered for mail call. Some of the married men and those with girls back home were hoping for something for Valentine's Day. While the US military mail was no where near that predictable, some men did actually receive a package from their wives or sweethearts. One poor sap had received a tin of sugar cookies from his grandmother. The men in his squad gathered around him were giving him all sorts of grief and making kissing sounds.
“All right, you next one of you who makes a smart ass remark is not getting a cookie”, the embattled Marine said.
With that the group went silent. The tin was open and each man in the squad was handed one of the golden treasures. The Marine approach LT Castlebury.
“Lieutenant?”, he said with his hand outstretched with a cookie.
“Thank you, Private”, Brett replied taking the cookie.
He had thought about refusing out of courtesy. Then he looked at the men who all received one already, and they were all in a state of bliss as the munched their gift. He took a small bite so as to savor it. The private's grandmother should be proud. It may have been the best cookie he had ever eaten.
Brett looked around the room and to a man, each recipient had a distant look on his face. They were all back home in their minds. It was amazing how something as simple as a sugar cookie could be so powerful.
"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 February 1942, Washington, DC
LT(jg) Greg Cummins was enjoying a rare day off. The Washington weather had moderated and it almost felt like spring. After the 1000 Mass, he decided to go for a walk. He made his way west up Maine Street SW. After about 1000 yards the road took a little jog to the right and magically became Maine Ave SW. Greg was sure that made sense to some city planner long ago but it just seemed odd to him. He continued walking along the northeast shore of the Tidal basal and then turned slightly left towards the Jefferson Memorial.
He looked across the Potomac at the new War Department Building. Work had started just six months ago on the building most people just called The Pentagon because of its unique shape. Oddly, it was designed that way because the original site was a pentagon shape plot. The site was changed as President Roosevelt feared it would block the sight lines from Arlington National Cemetery to Washington DC. Even though the new sight was no longer odd shaped the building's original design concept was retained as architectural work had already begun. Already the building was taking shape with several sections outwardly appearing complete. Greg new that was deceiving because most of the time spent constructing any building was in completing the interior structures. Even in its partially complete state, the building was impressive. When complete, it was said it would be the largest building in the world. Greg believed that wasn't just hyperbole because it was a massive structure.
He reversed course and made his way back toward the Yard. It was good for him to get out he realized. It had occurred to him that he had been arriving at work predawn and leaving after dark every day now for over a month. He could feel the rejuvenating effect of some fresh air and sunshine on his mind and body.
LT(jg) Greg Cummins was enjoying a rare day off. The Washington weather had moderated and it almost felt like spring. After the 1000 Mass, he decided to go for a walk. He made his way west up Maine Street SW. After about 1000 yards the road took a little jog to the right and magically became Maine Ave SW. Greg was sure that made sense to some city planner long ago but it just seemed odd to him. He continued walking along the northeast shore of the Tidal basal and then turned slightly left towards the Jefferson Memorial.
He looked across the Potomac at the new War Department Building. Work had started just six months ago on the building most people just called The Pentagon because of its unique shape. Oddly, it was designed that way because the original site was a pentagon shape plot. The site was changed as President Roosevelt feared it would block the sight lines from Arlington National Cemetery to Washington DC. Even though the new sight was no longer odd shaped the building's original design concept was retained as architectural work had already begun. Already the building was taking shape with several sections outwardly appearing complete. Greg new that was deceiving because most of the time spent constructing any building was in completing the interior structures. Even in its partially complete state, the building was impressive. When complete, it was said it would be the largest building in the world. Greg believed that wasn't just hyperbole because it was a massive structure.
He reversed course and made his way back toward the Yard. It was good for him to get out he realized. It had occurred to him that he had been arriving at work predawn and leaving after dark every day now for over a month. He could feel the rejuvenating effect of some fresh air and sunshine on his mind and body.
"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 February 1942, Kane'ohe Bay Naval Air Station, Oahu
VP-51 was getting itself settled in Hawaii. LCDR Underwood had warned the men not to get too comfortable as their stay would not be long. Things were moving in the South Pacific and once the proper infrastructure was in place, the squadron would be heading south. In the mean time, they found themselves literally in a tropical paradise. Kane'ohe sat on the opposite side of Oahu from Honolulu and Pearl Harbor. Picture post cards and even the most effusive prose could not do justice to the beauty of this place. It was truly something that had to be experienced in person to appreciate.
That is until you turn you eyes to the base itself. Even more than three months since the Pearl Harbor attack, it still bears the scars of the Japanese handiwork. One hangar had been completely destroyed in the attack. The others had all been damaged to some extent. Repairs were being completed as quickly as was possible but were far from complete. At one end of the air field there is a pile of twisted wreckage that if you examined closely you could make out the bits and pieces of PBYs that had been destroyed in the raid. Every now and then the wind shifts just right wafting the bitter odor of burnt wood, rubber, and oil.
Even the personnel at the base act differently. The men of VP-51 feel they are outsiders among those who have actually experienced war, experienced combat, and most importantly experienced death. The men of Kane'ohe are not deliberately being rude. The are just in a different place mentally and emotionally from the new arrivals. Only after VP-51 has experienced combat themselves will they would be accepted into this brotherhood. Until then, they will remain invisibly separated from the rest of the men stationed at the base.
VP-51 was getting itself settled in Hawaii. LCDR Underwood had warned the men not to get too comfortable as their stay would not be long. Things were moving in the South Pacific and once the proper infrastructure was in place, the squadron would be heading south. In the mean time, they found themselves literally in a tropical paradise. Kane'ohe sat on the opposite side of Oahu from Honolulu and Pearl Harbor. Picture post cards and even the most effusive prose could not do justice to the beauty of this place. It was truly something that had to be experienced in person to appreciate.
That is until you turn you eyes to the base itself. Even more than three months since the Pearl Harbor attack, it still bears the scars of the Japanese handiwork. One hangar had been completely destroyed in the attack. The others had all been damaged to some extent. Repairs were being completed as quickly as was possible but were far from complete. At one end of the air field there is a pile of twisted wreckage that if you examined closely you could make out the bits and pieces of PBYs that had been destroyed in the raid. Every now and then the wind shifts just right wafting the bitter odor of burnt wood, rubber, and oil.
Even the personnel at the base act differently. The men of VP-51 feel they are outsiders among those who have actually experienced war, experienced combat, and most importantly experienced death. The men of Kane'ohe are not deliberately being rude. The are just in a different place mentally and emotionally from the new arrivals. Only after VP-51 has experienced combat themselves will they would be accepted into this brotherhood. Until then, they will remain invisibly separated from the rest of the men stationed at the base.
"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 February 1942, Auckland, New Zealand
The carriers had put into port just long enough to take on a few aircraft. The Navy had manage to get a few F4F-3 and SBD-3 down here to flesh out some of the air groups. Unfortunately, there were not enough Wildcats to upgrade Lexington's VF. Few had any doubts what would happen if the F2A's were to go against a modern fighter like the Zero. LT(jg) West guesses the Navy brass figures even a few outdated fighters were better than nothing at all.
Once again shore leave was not granted to the disappointment of the men aboard the ships. This time it was in the name of expediency rather than fear the sailors would irreparably harm the city of Auckland. Many of them had been at see for nearly three months now. The rigors of near constant alert status was wearing on the men. James felt the worst for the men on the destroyers accompanying the carriers. Even in heavy seas, a CV is a relatively stable ship. He had watched the little ships fighting through each wave from the deck of Enterprise during a heavy blow. It was painful to watch and he was sure it was even worse to experience live and in person.
Scuttlebutt was that it would be some time before the CVTF saw extended time in port. Rumor was that they would be heading out in a few days to escort a convoy of troops to Fiji. James did the math in his head and came to an ugly conclusion. It would likely be more than a month before they would have a chance to truly put into port.
The carriers had put into port just long enough to take on a few aircraft. The Navy had manage to get a few F4F-3 and SBD-3 down here to flesh out some of the air groups. Unfortunately, there were not enough Wildcats to upgrade Lexington's VF. Few had any doubts what would happen if the F2A's were to go against a modern fighter like the Zero. LT(jg) West guesses the Navy brass figures even a few outdated fighters were better than nothing at all.
Once again shore leave was not granted to the disappointment of the men aboard the ships. This time it was in the name of expediency rather than fear the sailors would irreparably harm the city of Auckland. Many of them had been at see for nearly three months now. The rigors of near constant alert status was wearing on the men. James felt the worst for the men on the destroyers accompanying the carriers. Even in heavy seas, a CV is a relatively stable ship. He had watched the little ships fighting through each wave from the deck of Enterprise during a heavy blow. It was painful to watch and he was sure it was even worse to experience live and in person.
Scuttlebutt was that it would be some time before the CVTF saw extended time in port. Rumor was that they would be heading out in a few days to escort a convoy of troops to Fiji. James did the math in his head and came to an ugly conclusion. It would likely be more than a month before they would have a chance to truly put into port.
"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 February 1942, Norfolk Naval Shipyard, VA
LT(jg) Greg Cummins had driven down from DC to meet with the engineers at the yard to go over the plans for upgrading the destroyers. While the bulk of the meeting was spent going over the Sims class, they now had turned their attention to the remaining classes.
“Are you sure about the placement of the K-guns on the Benhams?”, the chief engineer asked Greg. “It doesn't allow for much working space”
“I understand your misgivings but there really is not another way”, Greg replied hiding his annoyance.
He had spent hours pouring over these blueprints and in meetings with CPT Lawrence's team. The Benhams and several other classes all had the same issue with the torpedo tubes. To Greg's shock, the final decision involved reducing the torpedo battery in a couple of classes. The successful submarine campaigns by both the German and Japanese navies had forced a doctrinal shift in the US Navy as to the purpose of destroyers. While retaining most of their capability to engage enemy surface ships, the need for more effective ASW platforms dictated the change in armament. No dyed in the wool destroyer captain would be happy about giving up some of his torpedoes, but expediency said that the USN “tin cans” were going to fill multiple roles now. Trade offs were going to have to be made to make that happen.
“If you say so, Lieutenant”, the engineer replied. “I just fix them. Its up to guys like you to fight them”.
Greg laughed to himself at that comment. The only thing he had been fighting so far was the Navy bureaucracy. A battle he was winning now that he thought about it. The fact that there was a war on certainly aided his efforts. A project such as this one would have taken a year or more during peace time. Greg had pulled it together in less than six weeks.
“Who said war is all bad”, he thought to himself.
LT(jg) Greg Cummins had driven down from DC to meet with the engineers at the yard to go over the plans for upgrading the destroyers. While the bulk of the meeting was spent going over the Sims class, they now had turned their attention to the remaining classes.
“Are you sure about the placement of the K-guns on the Benhams?”, the chief engineer asked Greg. “It doesn't allow for much working space”
“I understand your misgivings but there really is not another way”, Greg replied hiding his annoyance.
He had spent hours pouring over these blueprints and in meetings with CPT Lawrence's team. The Benhams and several other classes all had the same issue with the torpedo tubes. To Greg's shock, the final decision involved reducing the torpedo battery in a couple of classes. The successful submarine campaigns by both the German and Japanese navies had forced a doctrinal shift in the US Navy as to the purpose of destroyers. While retaining most of their capability to engage enemy surface ships, the need for more effective ASW platforms dictated the change in armament. No dyed in the wool destroyer captain would be happy about giving up some of his torpedoes, but expediency said that the USN “tin cans” were going to fill multiple roles now. Trade offs were going to have to be made to make that happen.
“If you say so, Lieutenant”, the engineer replied. “I just fix them. Its up to guys like you to fight them”.
Greg laughed to himself at that comment. The only thing he had been fighting so far was the Navy bureaucracy. A battle he was winning now that he thought about it. The fact that there was a war on certainly aided his efforts. A project such as this one would have taken a year or more during peace time. Greg had pulled it together in less than six weeks.
“Who said war is all bad”, he thought 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
19 February 1942, Iceland
1st LT Brett Castlebury is leading 3rd Platoon on patrol southeast of Reykjavik. There is a steady, cold rain falling as they trudge along. While the men are mostly silent, an occasional complaint or wise crack about the weather can be heard rising from the ranks. They stop for a brief rest at the end of their patrol route. The rain actually intensifies as the men stand in small groups. The griping gets a little louder and more frequent as they form up for the return trip.
“What's a matter boys, afraid the rain is going to ruin your hair dos?”, MSGT Wilson yells out as he walks slowly along the ranks.
“Well, you know what my Daddy told me when I was growing up?”, he asked.
“There's only two things that melt in rain: shit and sugar.”, Wilson continued staring each man down as he passed. “And sugar you ain't”
“Lieutenant Castlebury”, Wilson bellowed.
“Yes, Master Sergeant”, Brett answered appreciatively. He could tell the sergeant was just warming up.
“I believe some of these boys have forgotten why they are here”, he continued. “It seems some of them have forgotten they are U-nit-ted States Ma-rines. It seems some of them are under the impression that they are here on vacation at the expense of the US government. Some of them have expressed disappointment with the weather conditions we have provided for there little excursion into the Icelandic countryside”.
“Is that so, Master Sergeant?”, Castlebury said playing along. “What do you propose we do about this little situation”.
“Well, Lieutenant”, Wilson shouted. “I believe a double time march back to the barracks is just the thing these pansy-assed bunch of girl scouts need to remind them that they part of the finest military organization this world has ever seen.”
“I think you may be right, Master Sergeant”, Brett announced. “Let's move 'em out”
Sergeant Wilson called out as the started. The Marines joined in refrain
“MaaMaMa cant you see? What this corp has done for me.
Put me in a barbers chair, SNIP SNAP and I had no hair.
And if I die in a combat zone, Box me up and ship me home.
Put me in a set of dress blues, Comb my hair and shine my shoes.
Pin my medals upon my chest, Tell my mama I did my best.
MaaMaMa don't you cry, Marine Corp Motto is do or die!”
(Note: not sure if this cadence was used in WWI or not but seemed appropo for this scene. Apologies to any USMC Vets if I erred)
1st LT Brett Castlebury is leading 3rd Platoon on patrol southeast of Reykjavik. There is a steady, cold rain falling as they trudge along. While the men are mostly silent, an occasional complaint or wise crack about the weather can be heard rising from the ranks. They stop for a brief rest at the end of their patrol route. The rain actually intensifies as the men stand in small groups. The griping gets a little louder and more frequent as they form up for the return trip.
“What's a matter boys, afraid the rain is going to ruin your hair dos?”, MSGT Wilson yells out as he walks slowly along the ranks.
“Well, you know what my Daddy told me when I was growing up?”, he asked.
“There's only two things that melt in rain: shit and sugar.”, Wilson continued staring each man down as he passed. “And sugar you ain't”
“Lieutenant Castlebury”, Wilson bellowed.
“Yes, Master Sergeant”, Brett answered appreciatively. He could tell the sergeant was just warming up.
“I believe some of these boys have forgotten why they are here”, he continued. “It seems some of them have forgotten they are U-nit-ted States Ma-rines. It seems some of them are under the impression that they are here on vacation at the expense of the US government. Some of them have expressed disappointment with the weather conditions we have provided for there little excursion into the Icelandic countryside”.
“Is that so, Master Sergeant?”, Castlebury said playing along. “What do you propose we do about this little situation”.
“Well, Lieutenant”, Wilson shouted. “I believe a double time march back to the barracks is just the thing these pansy-assed bunch of girl scouts need to remind them that they part of the finest military organization this world has ever seen.”
“I think you may be right, Master Sergeant”, Brett announced. “Let's move 'em out”
Sergeant Wilson called out as the started. The Marines joined in refrain
“MaaMaMa cant you see? What this corp has done for me.
Put me in a barbers chair, SNIP SNAP and I had no hair.
And if I die in a combat zone, Box me up and ship me home.
Put me in a set of dress blues, Comb my hair and shine my shoes.
Pin my medals upon my chest, Tell my mama I did my best.
MaaMaMa don't you cry, Marine Corp Motto is do or die!”
(Note: not sure if this cadence was used in WWI or not but seemed appropo for this scene. Apologies to any USMC Vets if I erred)
"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 February 1942, Kane'ohe NAS, Oahu
The difference between Kane'ohe and San Francisco is like night and day. At SF, VP-51 had the aviation portion of the base to themselves. VP-44 was flying out of Alameda NAS across the bay. Here in Hawaii, they are sharing space with five full Patrol Squadrons plus a portion of a sixth. The is nearly continuous air operations from before dawn until after dark. Fortunately, there is lots of support here as the base had been converted for the expressed purpose of supporting PBY operations. There were multiple ramps to move the planes in and out of the water with dozens of trolleys used to move the planes around while not on the water. Two of the three hangars had been sufficiently repaired to allow for twenty-four hour maintenance work to be done.
VP-51 was not part of the regular operational routine as they were only temporarily assigned to the base. However, there were called upon now and again to cover areas assigned to one of the other squadrons if there was a breakdown.
LT(jg) Hank Tyler is flying one of those missions this morning. His assigned patrol area was almost exactly due south of Oahu. His outbound course takes him close enough to Pearl Harbor that he can get a good look. Even now more than three months after the attack the damage is evident. Oklahoma still lays inverted at the end of Battleship Row. The hulk of Arizona is still oozing fuel oil such that a huge slick is evident as the PBY passes the anchorage to the south and east. The seven remaining battle ships are in various stages of repair. One has been pulled into dry dock while two remain wallowed in the mud in the same positions they were at before the attack.
The other thing that is notable is how much activity there is around Oahu. When he flew out Treasure Island, he would often see no sign of a military presence once he passed the coast. Here, the sky is filled with both Army and Marine fighters. As he passes the coast he can see no fewer than two ASW task forces patrolling the approaches to the harbor. Once out over the ocean he sees several convoys either on there way out or returning to the island. He even catches sight of a USN submarine returning from patrol. The War seemed so far away when they were at San Francisco. Here they is no way to avoid it even if Hank tried.
The difference between Kane'ohe and San Francisco is like night and day. At SF, VP-51 had the aviation portion of the base to themselves. VP-44 was flying out of Alameda NAS across the bay. Here in Hawaii, they are sharing space with five full Patrol Squadrons plus a portion of a sixth. The is nearly continuous air operations from before dawn until after dark. Fortunately, there is lots of support here as the base had been converted for the expressed purpose of supporting PBY operations. There were multiple ramps to move the planes in and out of the water with dozens of trolleys used to move the planes around while not on the water. Two of the three hangars had been sufficiently repaired to allow for twenty-four hour maintenance work to be done.
VP-51 was not part of the regular operational routine as they were only temporarily assigned to the base. However, there were called upon now and again to cover areas assigned to one of the other squadrons if there was a breakdown.
LT(jg) Hank Tyler is flying one of those missions this morning. His assigned patrol area was almost exactly due south of Oahu. His outbound course takes him close enough to Pearl Harbor that he can get a good look. Even now more than three months after the attack the damage is evident. Oklahoma still lays inverted at the end of Battleship Row. The hulk of Arizona is still oozing fuel oil such that a huge slick is evident as the PBY passes the anchorage to the south and east. The seven remaining battle ships are in various stages of repair. One has been pulled into dry dock while two remain wallowed in the mud in the same positions they were at before the attack.
The other thing that is notable is how much activity there is around Oahu. When he flew out Treasure Island, he would often see no sign of a military presence once he passed the coast. Here, the sky is filled with both Army and Marine fighters. As he passes the coast he can see no fewer than two ASW task forces patrolling the approaches to the harbor. Once out over the ocean he sees several convoys either on there way out or returning to the island. He even catches sight of a USN submarine returning from patrol. The War seemed so far away when they were at San Francisco. Here they is no way to avoid it even if Hank tried.
"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 February 1942, South Pacific
The carriers departed Wellington two day ago. They now sit in the open ocean between New Zealand and the Society Islands. Scuttlebutt has it that there is some big troop convoy that needs an escort to one of the Island groups in the area. Some say it will be Fiji while others say it will be New Caledonia. There is even one rumor that the are heading straight up to Rabaul to retake that base from the Japanese.
LCDR Gallaher is taking advantage of the transit time to go over proper dive bombing techniques with the squadron. As of yet they have not dropped a single bomb on the enemy. Some of the men have barely even practiced on non-moving targets. Gallaher goes over how to judge the proper point to “tip over” or begin the dive. He tries to convey what they planes controls will feel like under the strain of an 80 degree dive. He spends extra time on the proper time to deploy the dive brakes during the dive. He cautions the men to fight the dual temptations or diving too shallow and pulling out of the dive too soon. If the bomb is released at 2000 feet it will take about three seconds before it hits. If it is release at 4000 feet it will take more than six seconds before it hits. Gallaher points out that a ship moving 30 kts will move an additional 50 yards in the three second time differential between the two release points.
“Fifty yards may not sound like that much”, he says, “but that will often be the difference between a solid hit and a near miss. You have to have nerves of steel to press home your attacks, boys.”
The meeting breaks up and a few of the younger pilots stay to ask questions of Gallaher. LT(jg) West notices ENS Stone sitting in the back of the room almost ashen . He refills his “bug juice” then casually makes his way over to the young pilot.
“What's up, Stone?”, he asks.
“Lieutenant”, he says weakly. “I don't know if I can do it. I have a hard time just getting an SBD back on the carrier. How the hell am I going to be able to keep it under control in a combat dive?”
“Your problem is a lack of trust, Stone”, West answered. “I've seen you fly. You don't trust the airplane. You don't trust your training. And most importantly, you don't trust yourself.”
“You really think its that simple?” Stone said not believing what James was saying.
“Yes, it is that simple.” he answered firmly. “The difference between being a Nugget and a competent pilot is getting to the point where you stop thinking about flying the aircraft and feel it instead. That's were the trust part comes into it. Once you stop worrying about all the little details and learn to trust in your aircraft and yourself, it will get a lot easier, I promise”
Stone looked up at West with a lightened demeanor. Just hearing that he wasn't a complete wash out was actually all he really needed to know.
“Thanks, Lieutenant”, he said as he rose. He joined the group of young pilots around LCDR Gallaher who were still asking questions.
The carriers departed Wellington two day ago. They now sit in the open ocean between New Zealand and the Society Islands. Scuttlebutt has it that there is some big troop convoy that needs an escort to one of the Island groups in the area. Some say it will be Fiji while others say it will be New Caledonia. There is even one rumor that the are heading straight up to Rabaul to retake that base from the Japanese.
LCDR Gallaher is taking advantage of the transit time to go over proper dive bombing techniques with the squadron. As of yet they have not dropped a single bomb on the enemy. Some of the men have barely even practiced on non-moving targets. Gallaher goes over how to judge the proper point to “tip over” or begin the dive. He tries to convey what they planes controls will feel like under the strain of an 80 degree dive. He spends extra time on the proper time to deploy the dive brakes during the dive. He cautions the men to fight the dual temptations or diving too shallow and pulling out of the dive too soon. If the bomb is released at 2000 feet it will take about three seconds before it hits. If it is release at 4000 feet it will take more than six seconds before it hits. Gallaher points out that a ship moving 30 kts will move an additional 50 yards in the three second time differential between the two release points.
“Fifty yards may not sound like that much”, he says, “but that will often be the difference between a solid hit and a near miss. You have to have nerves of steel to press home your attacks, boys.”
The meeting breaks up and a few of the younger pilots stay to ask questions of Gallaher. LT(jg) West notices ENS Stone sitting in the back of the room almost ashen . He refills his “bug juice” then casually makes his way over to the young pilot.
“What's up, Stone?”, he asks.
“Lieutenant”, he says weakly. “I don't know if I can do it. I have a hard time just getting an SBD back on the carrier. How the hell am I going to be able to keep it under control in a combat dive?”
“Your problem is a lack of trust, Stone”, West answered. “I've seen you fly. You don't trust the airplane. You don't trust your training. And most importantly, you don't trust yourself.”
“You really think its that simple?” Stone said not believing what James was saying.
“Yes, it is that simple.” he answered firmly. “The difference between being a Nugget and a competent pilot is getting to the point where you stop thinking about flying the aircraft and feel it instead. That's were the trust part comes into it. Once you stop worrying about all the little details and learn to trust in your aircraft and yourself, it will get a lot easier, I promise”
Stone looked up at West with a lightened demeanor. Just hearing that he wasn't a complete wash out was actually all he really needed to know.
“Thanks, Lieutenant”, he said as he rose. He joined the group of young pilots around LCDR Gallaher who were still asking questions.
"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 February 1942, Soerabaja, Java
SS Sturgeon had deposited the remnant of Swordfish's crew here on Java five days ago. LCDR Smith had tried to urge LCDR Wright to linger in the area his boat has went down for a little while longer. The seas were too rough and Sturgeon had just missed being discovered by patrol aircraft itself. They searched an addition six hours but LCDR Wright's orders were clear: egress the immediate area of Swordfish's demise and return to Soerabaja. The Sturgeon was carrying near one and a half of it's normal complement. The boat could just not run efficiently with this many people in the way. Smith acquiesced reluctantly and retreated to his cabin. He was hardly seen away from it during the entire journey down to Java.
The crew was billeted in a shabby hotel near the naval base. While it was still functioning fairly efficiently, Soerabaja Harbor was full of hulks of numerous small craft and even a few submarines. The Japanese carriers had raided the base twice with devastating results. Still, there was a lot of activity around the harbor with Dutch and USN submarines coming and going. Besides that there was nothing larger than a minesweeper in and around the harbor. The Dutch, US, and British surface fleets had fled to safer waters weeks ago. The local Dutch were not being very cooperative. Any US sub that needed fuel or provisions had to pay for them with cash on the spot. The remnants of the Asiatic Fleet staff headquartered here spent most of their time running around making sure the money was available to pay any USN debts without delay. History had proved that any sub tied up to a pier was nothing more than a target if the Japanese carriers were to reappear.
LT(jg) Dan Haskins spent most of his time at the hotel awaiting some form of transport out. The Javanese people were not at all like the Filipinos he had gotten used to in Manila. Like the Filipinos they were more than willing to make a buck off any unwitting US sailor, but there was a coldness to their manner. They had a weary eye towards the Americans, and it was obvious they did not appreciate their presence on Java. DJ wondered if was the way they treated all foreigners or if there was something particularly irksome about the US presence that bothered them. Well, if it were up to DJ, they would be on their way out of this miserable place already. He doubted if the locals understood that, at least for the crew of the Swordfish, they wanted to leave just as badly as the Javanese wanted them gone.
SS Sturgeon had deposited the remnant of Swordfish's crew here on Java five days ago. LCDR Smith had tried to urge LCDR Wright to linger in the area his boat has went down for a little while longer. The seas were too rough and Sturgeon had just missed being discovered by patrol aircraft itself. They searched an addition six hours but LCDR Wright's orders were clear: egress the immediate area of Swordfish's demise and return to Soerabaja. The Sturgeon was carrying near one and a half of it's normal complement. The boat could just not run efficiently with this many people in the way. Smith acquiesced reluctantly and retreated to his cabin. He was hardly seen away from it during the entire journey down to Java.
The crew was billeted in a shabby hotel near the naval base. While it was still functioning fairly efficiently, Soerabaja Harbor was full of hulks of numerous small craft and even a few submarines. The Japanese carriers had raided the base twice with devastating results. Still, there was a lot of activity around the harbor with Dutch and USN submarines coming and going. Besides that there was nothing larger than a minesweeper in and around the harbor. The Dutch, US, and British surface fleets had fled to safer waters weeks ago. The local Dutch were not being very cooperative. Any US sub that needed fuel or provisions had to pay for them with cash on the spot. The remnants of the Asiatic Fleet staff headquartered here spent most of their time running around making sure the money was available to pay any USN debts without delay. History had proved that any sub tied up to a pier was nothing more than a target if the Japanese carriers were to reappear.
LT(jg) Dan Haskins spent most of his time at the hotel awaiting some form of transport out. The Javanese people were not at all like the Filipinos he had gotten used to in Manila. Like the Filipinos they were more than willing to make a buck off any unwitting US sailor, but there was a coldness to their manner. They had a weary eye towards the Americans, and it was obvious they did not appreciate their presence on Java. DJ wondered if was the way they treated all foreigners or if there was something particularly irksome about the US presence that bothered them. Well, if it were up to DJ, they would be on their way out of this miserable place already. He doubted if the locals understood that, at least for the crew of the Swordfish, they wanted to leave just as badly as the Javanese wanted them gone.
"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 February 1942, Washington, DC
The need for improving the US Navy's ASW efforts is becoming desperate. The German U-boats are sinking Allied merchants off the East Coast and in the Caribbean almost daily. Early this morning, a Japanese I-boat bombarded the refinery at Ellwood, CA. While little damage was done to the facilities, the West Coast was now in a near panic. The US was building destroyers at an amazing rate but there were still too few to meet all the needs of a war on two fronts.
LT(jg) Greg Cummins sits at his desk going over blueprints for the Bagley Class destroyers. With the first Sims Class ships due in port in less than a week, CPT. Lawrence's team had shifted it's attention to the remaining USN destroyer classes. Present circumstances made this project a top priority for BurShips and a firm deadline of 1 April had been set to have everything ready. While the modifications to each class were similar, individual layouts and armament meant slight variations on the same themes: adding K-guns, upgrading the AAA, and adding and/or upgrading the RADAR sets.
“Lieutenant Cummins?”, one of the enlisted men asks.
“Yes”, Greg replied thankful for the distraction.
“Captain Lawrence wants to see you, sir”, the sailor informed Greg
“Thank you”, he said as he rose from his chair made his way to the Captain's office
“Sir, you asked to see me?”, Greg said as he entered the office.
“Yes, Greg. Sit down”, Lawrence said motioning Cummins to a seat.
“The Buck is on her way into Norfolk”, the captain started. “She'll be the first of the Sims Class to upgrade. I need you to drive down and make sure everything goes as planned. I don't think I need to tell you that the Navy needs every destroyer it can find right now. While the augmented ASW armament will be a welcomed addition, we need to get these ships in and out of the yard as fast as possible. You understand?”
“Yes, sir”, Greg replied. “I think you are ordering me to be a burr up the butt of the yard people to make sure they get the job done expediently, correct?”
“Well, I wouldn't have put it quite that way, but I think you get the point,” Lawrence replied.
“Consider it done, sir”, Greg said as he stood to leave.
“Good man”, Lawrence said as he returned the lieutenant's salute
The need for improving the US Navy's ASW efforts is becoming desperate. The German U-boats are sinking Allied merchants off the East Coast and in the Caribbean almost daily. Early this morning, a Japanese I-boat bombarded the refinery at Ellwood, CA. While little damage was done to the facilities, the West Coast was now in a near panic. The US was building destroyers at an amazing rate but there were still too few to meet all the needs of a war on two fronts.
LT(jg) Greg Cummins sits at his desk going over blueprints for the Bagley Class destroyers. With the first Sims Class ships due in port in less than a week, CPT. Lawrence's team had shifted it's attention to the remaining USN destroyer classes. Present circumstances made this project a top priority for BurShips and a firm deadline of 1 April had been set to have everything ready. While the modifications to each class were similar, individual layouts and armament meant slight variations on the same themes: adding K-guns, upgrading the AAA, and adding and/or upgrading the RADAR sets.
“Lieutenant Cummins?”, one of the enlisted men asks.
“Yes”, Greg replied thankful for the distraction.
“Captain Lawrence wants to see you, sir”, the sailor informed Greg
“Thank you”, he said as he rose from his chair made his way to the Captain's office
“Sir, you asked to see me?”, Greg said as he entered the office.
“Yes, Greg. Sit down”, Lawrence said motioning Cummins to a seat.
“The Buck is on her way into Norfolk”, the captain started. “She'll be the first of the Sims Class to upgrade. I need you to drive down and make sure everything goes as planned. I don't think I need to tell you that the Navy needs every destroyer it can find right now. While the augmented ASW armament will be a welcomed addition, we need to get these ships in and out of the yard as fast as possible. You understand?”
“Yes, sir”, Greg replied. “I think you are ordering me to be a burr up the butt of the yard people to make sure they get the job done expediently, correct?”
“Well, I wouldn't have put it quite that way, but I think you get the point,” Lawrence replied.
“Consider it done, sir”, Greg said as he stood to leave.
“Good man”, Lawrence said as he returned the lieutenant's 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
24 February 1942, Iceland
Hurry up and wait: the unofficial motto of the Marines. At least that is what 1st LT Brett Castlebury was thinking at the moment. The orders to redeploy back to the States had been made official weeks ago, but all the men of Foxtrot Coy, did was the same old same old. Get up, patrol the coast, maybe work on some fortifications, go back to barracks, and then go to bed. The war seemed very far away to these men. Fighting was heavy all across the globe from Malaya to the Philippines to Russia and the skies over Britain. Here in Iceland there was only monotony and a lot of it.
Still, Brett was feeling pretty good about the platoon. The new recruits had now been with the unit long enough to be fully integrated. While they all still lacked true combat experience, that would come in time. He was sure of that. He did not know when or where but he knew that the 6th Marines would eventually lock horns with the Japanese. While his men were green, they were well trained. He and MSGT Wilson had made sure of that! Now all they could do was train some more and wait.
Hurry up and wait: the unofficial motto of the Marines. At least that is what 1st LT Brett Castlebury was thinking at the moment. The orders to redeploy back to the States had been made official weeks ago, but all the men of Foxtrot Coy, did was the same old same old. Get up, patrol the coast, maybe work on some fortifications, go back to barracks, and then go to bed. The war seemed very far away to these men. Fighting was heavy all across the globe from Malaya to the Philippines to Russia and the skies over Britain. Here in Iceland there was only monotony and a lot of it.
Still, Brett was feeling pretty good about the platoon. The new recruits had now been with the unit long enough to be fully integrated. While they all still lacked true combat experience, that would come in time. He was sure of that. He did not know when or where but he knew that the 6th Marines would eventually lock horns with the Japanese. While his men were green, they were well trained. He and MSGT Wilson had made sure of that! Now all they could do was train some more and wait.
"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 February 1942, Kane'ohe NAS, Oahu
This was definitely NOT Alaska, Hank Tyler mused to himself. He remembered when he first heard that VP-51 was being deployed to the Pacific that he thought that would be about the worst thing that could happen. Instead they found themselves here in a tropical paradise. If they kept this up, Hank may lose faith in the Navy's ability to make life as miserable as possible for it's officers and enlisted men. This may be the best billet in the entire world, Hank thought to himself.
However, Tyler knew the truth. CDR Underwood had shared with him the future plans the Navy had for the squadron. They were heading to Fiji as soon as he proper support could be put into place. It would take a few weeks to move all the necessary troops and supplies around, but their days in Hawaii were numbered. Underwood had only let the senior pilots in the squadron in on the details. He had forbidden them from sharing the information with the rest of the squadron. The whole “Loose lips sink ships” thing had seemed like overkill when they were still on the mainland. Here in Hawaii, it didn't seem unreasonable.
Hank had mixed feelings about being deployed to a forward area. While part of him wanted to be “in the fight” as much as any man, he also felt that pang of self doubt that most feel when faced with battle. Would he be able to get the job done? Would he panic when he first met the enemy? Would he be coming home when it was all over? That last thought was new to Tyler. He had always lived by the Latin motto, Carpe Diem: seize the day! He didn't worry about tomorrow or his future very much at all. That changed the day he met Emily. Now, he had a new thought mixed in with all the others: would he ever see her again?
This was definitely NOT Alaska, Hank Tyler mused to himself. He remembered when he first heard that VP-51 was being deployed to the Pacific that he thought that would be about the worst thing that could happen. Instead they found themselves here in a tropical paradise. If they kept this up, Hank may lose faith in the Navy's ability to make life as miserable as possible for it's officers and enlisted men. This may be the best billet in the entire world, Hank thought to himself.
However, Tyler knew the truth. CDR Underwood had shared with him the future plans the Navy had for the squadron. They were heading to Fiji as soon as he proper support could be put into place. It would take a few weeks to move all the necessary troops and supplies around, but their days in Hawaii were numbered. Underwood had only let the senior pilots in the squadron in on the details. He had forbidden them from sharing the information with the rest of the squadron. The whole “Loose lips sink ships” thing had seemed like overkill when they were still on the mainland. Here in Hawaii, it didn't seem unreasonable.
Hank had mixed feelings about being deployed to a forward area. While part of him wanted to be “in the fight” as much as any man, he also felt that pang of self doubt that most feel when faced with battle. Would he be able to get the job done? Would he panic when he first met the enemy? Would he be coming home when it was all over? That last thought was new to Tyler. He had always lived by the Latin motto, Carpe Diem: seize the day! He didn't worry about tomorrow or his future very much at all. That changed the day he met Emily. Now, he had a new thought mixed in with all the others: would he ever see her again?
"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 February 1942, NE of New Zealand
LT(jg) James West is on patrol east of the Enterprise. After months of what seemed like mindless wandering through the South Pacific, the USN carriers now had a job to do. That job was shepherding a large convoy into Suva, the main port in the Fiji Islands. The convoy was huge with over twenty transports carrying an entire infantry division plus other troops. This was the reason the US carriers were called back from their planned raid of the southern Solomons a few weeks ago.
There was no intelligence as far as the location of the Japanese carriers but ADM Nimitz was taking no chances. He had dispatched the entire available carrier force to escort the first large troop movement into the South Pacific. It was not hard to understand why these precautions were being made. The loss of this many troops to an unexpected raid by the IJN would be devastating to the US morale. So while it was not the most glamorous of duty, it was obviously important. That alone was enough to raise the spirits of the men aboard the carriers and their escorts.
They were steaming up from New Zealand to some island group James had never heard of east of Fiji. They would refuel there before meeting up with the convoy. The only question now as had they enemy caught wind of this movement as of yet?
LT(jg) James West is on patrol east of the Enterprise. After months of what seemed like mindless wandering through the South Pacific, the USN carriers now had a job to do. That job was shepherding a large convoy into Suva, the main port in the Fiji Islands. The convoy was huge with over twenty transports carrying an entire infantry division plus other troops. This was the reason the US carriers were called back from their planned raid of the southern Solomons a few weeks ago.
There was no intelligence as far as the location of the Japanese carriers but ADM Nimitz was taking no chances. He had dispatched the entire available carrier force to escort the first large troop movement into the South Pacific. It was not hard to understand why these precautions were being made. The loss of this many troops to an unexpected raid by the IJN would be devastating to the US morale. So while it was not the most glamorous of duty, it was obviously important. That alone was enough to raise the spirits of the men aboard the carriers and their escorts.
They were steaming up from New Zealand to some island group James had never heard of east of Fiji. They would refuel there before meeting up with the convoy. The only question now as had they enemy caught wind of this movement as of yet?
"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
27 February 1942, Washington, DC
LT(jg) Greg Cummins is clearing his desk on this Friday afternoon. With the War on the Navy no longer thinks in terms of a five day work week and weekend. The Yard is nearly as busy on the Saturday and Sunday as it is during the week. Greg, however, needs to tie up loose ends. He is driving down to Norfolk in two days, and he knows it may be a while before he returns. Despite all the planning and preparations, he holds little hope that the upgrading of the Sims Class will go off without a glitch. That said, he has no intention of letting the project fall behind schedule.
A tanker and a bulk carrier were sunk right off the East Coast just yesterday. This is fast becoming an embarrassment for the US Navy. Everyone expected the Germans to put up a fight in the Atlantic. No one anticipated them parking their subs right off the US coast and truly wreaking havoc with the US Merchant Fleet. Something needed to be done before things truly got out of hand.
“Perhaps they already have”, Greg thought to himself.
“How did the USN enter the War so unprepared?”, his thought continued.
He was a profession sailor, a graduate of the US Naval Academy. If he didn't understand, how could anyone expect the civilian populace to come to grips with it. Pearl Harbor was a shock to the US psyche but it also was a rallying cry. The initial fervor was wearing off. After months of steady losses, people were beginning to doubt the outcome. Was it possible that the US could lose the war?
“Enough!”, Greg concluded the thought.
He knew better than anyone how many ships were in the pipeline. Hundreds of destroyers, destroyer escorts, and patrol craft of all sizes would very soon be patrolling the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific. It was only a matter of time.
LT(jg) Greg Cummins is clearing his desk on this Friday afternoon. With the War on the Navy no longer thinks in terms of a five day work week and weekend. The Yard is nearly as busy on the Saturday and Sunday as it is during the week. Greg, however, needs to tie up loose ends. He is driving down to Norfolk in two days, and he knows it may be a while before he returns. Despite all the planning and preparations, he holds little hope that the upgrading of the Sims Class will go off without a glitch. That said, he has no intention of letting the project fall behind schedule.
A tanker and a bulk carrier were sunk right off the East Coast just yesterday. This is fast becoming an embarrassment for the US Navy. Everyone expected the Germans to put up a fight in the Atlantic. No one anticipated them parking their subs right off the US coast and truly wreaking havoc with the US Merchant Fleet. Something needed to be done before things truly got out of hand.
“Perhaps they already have”, Greg thought to himself.
“How did the USN enter the War so unprepared?”, his thought continued.
He was a profession sailor, a graduate of the US Naval Academy. If he didn't understand, how could anyone expect the civilian populace to come to grips with it. Pearl Harbor was a shock to the US psyche but it also was a rallying cry. The initial fervor was wearing off. After months of steady losses, people were beginning to doubt the outcome. Was it possible that the US could lose the war?
“Enough!”, Greg concluded the thought.
He knew better than anyone how many ships were in the pipeline. Hundreds of destroyers, destroyer escorts, and patrol craft of all sizes would very soon be patrolling the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific. It was only a matter of time.
"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
28 February 1942, Indian Ocean
LT(jg) DJ Haskins is standing watch of the bridge of USS Porpoise as she heads south towards Perth, Australia. The Swordfish's crew had been divided among three subs all heading there for repairs. Porpoise had been damaged while trying to prosecute a convoy off Indochina. While the damage was not severe, the threat of enemy air attack precluded repairing her at Soerabaja. The USN had already lost one sub up there and they were not about to lose another. Fortunately, the crew of Porpoise seemed happy to have the extra help on board, Haskins is especially happy they were letting him stand watch.
DJ wished he had been matched up with LCDR Smith but he was aboard Searaven. He is concerned about the skipper. He had not been right since they were rescued. DJ had tried to get him to talk while they were still on Java, but Smith rebuffed all his attempts. The loss of the boat was weighing heavily upon the man, and even though he wouldn't talk of it, the fate of LT Phelps and the rest of the crew had to be on his mind also. Were they lost at sea? Had they been captured? Could they possibly made land fall in China or the Philippines?
They were their shipmates and friends. Was it just the whims of the Fates that they were safely heading to a friendly port while the rest of the crew was lost? How does one reconcile that to himself? Just a few weeks ago the were united in their efforts to do their part in defeating Japan. Now there were scattered. None of them even had a permanent place in the Navy at the moment. It happened so fast. Where did they go wrong? Was there something that could have been done to save the Swordfish? Should they have made more of an effort to find the rest of the crew?
Questions without answers. Confidence and assurance now replaced with fear and doubt. Maybe DJ didn't need to talk to LCDR Smith. He already knew what was going on in the man's mind. If he couldn't answer the questions himself, how could he offer any help to the skipper?
LT(jg) DJ Haskins is standing watch of the bridge of USS Porpoise as she heads south towards Perth, Australia. The Swordfish's crew had been divided among three subs all heading there for repairs. Porpoise had been damaged while trying to prosecute a convoy off Indochina. While the damage was not severe, the threat of enemy air attack precluded repairing her at Soerabaja. The USN had already lost one sub up there and they were not about to lose another. Fortunately, the crew of Porpoise seemed happy to have the extra help on board, Haskins is especially happy they were letting him stand watch.
DJ wished he had been matched up with LCDR Smith but he was aboard Searaven. He is concerned about the skipper. He had not been right since they were rescued. DJ had tried to get him to talk while they were still on Java, but Smith rebuffed all his attempts. The loss of the boat was weighing heavily upon the man, and even though he wouldn't talk of it, the fate of LT Phelps and the rest of the crew had to be on his mind also. Were they lost at sea? Had they been captured? Could they possibly made land fall in China or the Philippines?
They were their shipmates and friends. Was it just the whims of the Fates that they were safely heading to a friendly port while the rest of the crew was lost? How does one reconcile that to himself? Just a few weeks ago the were united in their efforts to do their part in defeating Japan. Now there were scattered. None of them even had a permanent place in the Navy at the moment. It happened so fast. Where did they go wrong? Was there something that could have been done to save the Swordfish? Should they have made more of an effort to find the rest of the crew?
Questions without answers. Confidence and assurance now replaced with fear and doubt. Maybe DJ didn't need to talk to LCDR Smith. He already knew what was going on in the man's mind. If he couldn't answer the questions himself, how could he offer any help to the skipper?
"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
1 March 1942, near Raratonga
Enterprise was abuzz with excitement. Word had “leaked” out of the Comms section that the Japanese carriers had been spotted off New Guinea. Would they finally get their chance at striking back at the Japs? Speculation was running wild. The ships were short of fuel but that was about to be remedied. Two large replenishment convoys were waiting at Raratonga. Once the carriers met up with them, they would be free to go after the Japanese.
The pilots of VS-6 and the other squadrons of Enterprise's air group were all gathered in their ready rooms awaiting the orders they hoped would soon be coming down from ADM Halsey.
“Do you think we will go after the Jap carriers, James”, LT(jg) Carey asked.
“Not sure”, West replied. “Depends on how many and where they are headed”.
“What difference does that make”, Carey said incredulously. “We know where they are so we should go get them. End of Story”.
“First, we have four carriers. We know they used six at Pearl Harbor”, James replied patiently. “If all six of their carriers are there we could be walking right into a trap.”
“Second”, he continued, “this could be a diversion. What if one of those stupid float plane carrying subs of theirs caught site of the convoy? What if chasing this sighting is exactly what they want us to do so they can slip another force in behind us and sink all those transports?”
“You know you have a way of taking the joy out of just about everything?”, Carey chided. “Why can't you see the bright side of things every once in a while?”
“I'm just the voice of reason”, James replied. “You ever hear the story of the Eagle and the Arrow?”
“Don't think so”, Carey replied curiously.
“It goes like this:”, James began. “ An Eagle was soaring through the air when suddenly it heard the whizz of an Arrow, and felt itself wounded to death. Slowly it fluttered down to the earth, with its life-blood pouring out of it. Looking down upon the Arrow with which it had been pierced, it found that the shaft of the Arrow had been feathered with one of its own plumes. "Alas!" it cried, as it died.”
“What's you point?”, Carey asked
“The moral of the story is”, West paused for effect, “we often give our enemies the means for our own destruction”.
“You're just full of little bits of wisdom, aren't you”, Carey snarked
“Like I said, the voice of reason”, West concluded.
Enterprise was abuzz with excitement. Word had “leaked” out of the Comms section that the Japanese carriers had been spotted off New Guinea. Would they finally get their chance at striking back at the Japs? Speculation was running wild. The ships were short of fuel but that was about to be remedied. Two large replenishment convoys were waiting at Raratonga. Once the carriers met up with them, they would be free to go after the Japanese.
The pilots of VS-6 and the other squadrons of Enterprise's air group were all gathered in their ready rooms awaiting the orders they hoped would soon be coming down from ADM Halsey.
“Do you think we will go after the Jap carriers, James”, LT(jg) Carey asked.
“Not sure”, West replied. “Depends on how many and where they are headed”.
“What difference does that make”, Carey said incredulously. “We know where they are so we should go get them. End of Story”.
“First, we have four carriers. We know they used six at Pearl Harbor”, James replied patiently. “If all six of their carriers are there we could be walking right into a trap.”
“Second”, he continued, “this could be a diversion. What if one of those stupid float plane carrying subs of theirs caught site of the convoy? What if chasing this sighting is exactly what they want us to do so they can slip another force in behind us and sink all those transports?”
“You know you have a way of taking the joy out of just about everything?”, Carey chided. “Why can't you see the bright side of things every once in a while?”
“I'm just the voice of reason”, James replied. “You ever hear the story of the Eagle and the Arrow?”
“Don't think so”, Carey replied curiously.
“It goes like this:”, James began. “ An Eagle was soaring through the air when suddenly it heard the whizz of an Arrow, and felt itself wounded to death. Slowly it fluttered down to the earth, with its life-blood pouring out of it. Looking down upon the Arrow with which it had been pierced, it found that the shaft of the Arrow had been feathered with one of its own plumes. "Alas!" it cried, as it died.”
“What's you point?”, Carey asked
“The moral of the story is”, West paused for effect, “we often give our enemies the means for our own destruction”.
“You're just full of little bits of wisdom, aren't you”, Carey snarked
“Like I said, the voice of reason”, West concluded.
"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
2 March 1942, Norfolk Naval Yard, Virginia
The USS Buck is safely stood down next to a pier at the yard. Her boilers have been extinguished, and cables stretch from the pier to the ship to provide power for the work that needs to be done. LT(jg) Greg Cummins stands on the pier admiring the ship. She is a fine looking vessel: sleek and mean and ready for war. While destroyers may lack the graceful lines and towering superstructure of cruisers and battleships, they are truly ships of war. Every space not devoted to propulsion and habitation has some weapon or sensor attached. In truth, the design of a “tin can” is a much more difficult proposition than a larger ship. There is just no room for error.
“Permission to come aboard”, Greg asks the coxswain at the top of the prow.
“Permission granted, sir”, he replies.
Greg sees a familiar face and walks towards two officers on the foredeck. One of them is LT(jg) Sam Jones, a USNA classmate of Greg.
“Jonesy!”, Cummins calls out.
“Greg!”, Sam replies. “What are you doing here?”
“I am the official BurShips representative on your little upgrade project”, Greg answered.
“Oh we're in for it now!”, Jones mocked. “LCDR Stevens, this is Lieutenant Greg Cummins, one of the finest engineering minds the Academy has ever produced”
“Sir”, Greg says as he salutes.
“Pleasure to meet you”, Stevens says. “Are you the one responsible for setting this upgrade up?”
“Afraid so, sir. Any problems so far?”, Cummins asks.
“None”, Stevens answers. “In fact, this is about the most well organized project I have ever seen the US Navy put together. Everything is in place. All we need to do is fit the ship and make sure it all works”
“I should have known you were involved”, Jones offers. “Now that I think about, this project has you hand writing all over it. All the i's dotted and t's crossed. Pure Cummins to be sure.”
“Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is the first Sims to be upgraded; still a lot that could go wrong”, Greg cautions
“From what I've seen so far, I don't think we have much to worry about”, Stevens says. “Lieutenant Jones, why don't you show Lieutenant Cummins our little ship.”
“Aye, sir”, Jones replies. “Come on Greg, I'll show you what you've been missing up there in your cushy office at the Yard”
The USS Buck is safely stood down next to a pier at the yard. Her boilers have been extinguished, and cables stretch from the pier to the ship to provide power for the work that needs to be done. LT(jg) Greg Cummins stands on the pier admiring the ship. She is a fine looking vessel: sleek and mean and ready for war. While destroyers may lack the graceful lines and towering superstructure of cruisers and battleships, they are truly ships of war. Every space not devoted to propulsion and habitation has some weapon or sensor attached. In truth, the design of a “tin can” is a much more difficult proposition than a larger ship. There is just no room for error.
“Permission to come aboard”, Greg asks the coxswain at the top of the prow.
“Permission granted, sir”, he replies.
Greg sees a familiar face and walks towards two officers on the foredeck. One of them is LT(jg) Sam Jones, a USNA classmate of Greg.
“Jonesy!”, Cummins calls out.
“Greg!”, Sam replies. “What are you doing here?”
“I am the official BurShips representative on your little upgrade project”, Greg answered.
“Oh we're in for it now!”, Jones mocked. “LCDR Stevens, this is Lieutenant Greg Cummins, one of the finest engineering minds the Academy has ever produced”
“Sir”, Greg says as he salutes.
“Pleasure to meet you”, Stevens says. “Are you the one responsible for setting this upgrade up?”
“Afraid so, sir. Any problems so far?”, Cummins asks.
“None”, Stevens answers. “In fact, this is about the most well organized project I have ever seen the US Navy put together. Everything is in place. All we need to do is fit the ship and make sure it all works”
“I should have known you were involved”, Jones offers. “Now that I think about, this project has you hand writing all over it. All the i's dotted and t's crossed. Pure Cummins to be sure.”
“Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is the first Sims to be upgraded; still a lot that could go wrong”, Greg cautions
“From what I've seen so far, I don't think we have much to worry about”, Stevens says. “Lieutenant Jones, why don't you show Lieutenant Cummins our little ship.”
“Aye, sir”, Jones replies. “Come on Greg, I'll show you what you've been missing up there in your cushy office at the Yard”
"We have met the enemy and they are ours" - Commodore O.H. Perry