Rykaird
03-03-07, 03:45 PM
January, 1941
Act I
In my cabin aboard U-123, my beautiful IXB, I open my sealed orders and find my mission is to destroy the HRN Averof, which Intelligence has said will be docked in Port Said. (My last attempt at the Averof ended in near disaster, so I guess HQ has decided to let me have another go as a “reward”.) This means I need to sail through the Straits of Gibraltar.
I load up on fuel from the milch cow Thalia in Cadiz. Rather than head southwest to the nearest deep water and then begin the traverse of Gibraltar, I decide to save a little time and take a shortcut due south across the shallows on the surface. Hey, it’s dark out – what could possibly happen?
What could happen is that I could spot a destroyer just about the same time he spots me, that’s what. I dive, but he’s on me, and calls up four of his closest friends. The five of them have me pinned in 40m of water and 18km from the deeps. I get blown to pieces.
Lesson 1: “Shortcut” is a Native American word that roughly translates to “The Road of Death.”
Lesson 2: I will never cross shallow water on the surface, even at night, in enemy territory.
Act II
So another Kaleun, with a name oddly similar to that of the corpse from Act I, makes the attempt. This time, the wiser, though still stupid, Kaleun makes the run through the Straits at 205 meters and 2 knots with silent running. I almost run out of oxygen after nearly two days submerged, but I make it without incident, despite my hydrophone telling me I am completely surrounded by enemy warships.
I consult my handy map, which tells me that in 1941 the aircraft patrols do not extend to the coasts of Algier. So I surface the boat. It’s a beautiful late afternoon, sunny and calm. I get out a deck chair, a fishing pole, a cigar, and a trashy romance novel, and enjoy the Mediterranean sunshine while heading east towards Tunis.
Unfortunately, some idiot in British HQ failed to inform the Anson pilots that they can’t fly in this zone. They come out of the sun, my boat lined up perfectly. I can’t even get the decks awash by the time they’ve dropped their bombs. Another Kaleun reduced to fish food.
Lesson 3: I will never believe again in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or the notion of an “aircraft-free” zone.
Lesson 4: I will always run submerged during the day unless the weather is so bad it will ground aircraft.
Act III
So now another Kaleun, again oddly with a name only slightly changed from the dumb ass corpses of Acts I and II, passes through Gibraltar. Armed with the knowledge of the doom of his predecessors, he’s very careful. Dumb as a brick, but careful.
Hydrophone picks up a merchant steaming along near Tunis. Since it’s night out and calm seas, I decide to take him on the surface with the deck gun. Rather than do a normal overhaul, I just get on a parallel course to him about 1000m to his starboard, and flog along at flank till I’m directly across from him. Oh, he’s a fat one – a nice, large cargo ship. What do I care if he sees me and starts to zig? I’m going to blow him out of the water!
Just as I’m ordering my men to man the deck gun, my Watch Officer calls out what sounds like “Schiff Ge-zeet-zen”, meaning he’s spotted another vessel. My greedy heart wonders “Is it another fat merchant? Oh, goody, Christmas has come early!” Three seconds later I hear the whistle of a shell coming my way. It’s a destroyer, leading the cargo ship, and I’m right on top of him. The good news is that the first shell kills my worthless watch crew. The bad news is that I’m rapidly blown to chunks.
Lesson 5: I will always personally perform hydrophone and periscope checks before surfacing, and visual checks before engaging.
Lesson 6: I will always perform my overhaul out of visual range.
You’ll notice that in every case it was my own laziness or carelessness that got me croaked. I still have never reached Port Said to even attempt the Averof. And I’m still in 1941.
It’s going to be a long, long war . . .
Act I
In my cabin aboard U-123, my beautiful IXB, I open my sealed orders and find my mission is to destroy the HRN Averof, which Intelligence has said will be docked in Port Said. (My last attempt at the Averof ended in near disaster, so I guess HQ has decided to let me have another go as a “reward”.) This means I need to sail through the Straits of Gibraltar.
I load up on fuel from the milch cow Thalia in Cadiz. Rather than head southwest to the nearest deep water and then begin the traverse of Gibraltar, I decide to save a little time and take a shortcut due south across the shallows on the surface. Hey, it’s dark out – what could possibly happen?
What could happen is that I could spot a destroyer just about the same time he spots me, that’s what. I dive, but he’s on me, and calls up four of his closest friends. The five of them have me pinned in 40m of water and 18km from the deeps. I get blown to pieces.
Lesson 1: “Shortcut” is a Native American word that roughly translates to “The Road of Death.”
Lesson 2: I will never cross shallow water on the surface, even at night, in enemy territory.
Act II
So another Kaleun, with a name oddly similar to that of the corpse from Act I, makes the attempt. This time, the wiser, though still stupid, Kaleun makes the run through the Straits at 205 meters and 2 knots with silent running. I almost run out of oxygen after nearly two days submerged, but I make it without incident, despite my hydrophone telling me I am completely surrounded by enemy warships.
I consult my handy map, which tells me that in 1941 the aircraft patrols do not extend to the coasts of Algier. So I surface the boat. It’s a beautiful late afternoon, sunny and calm. I get out a deck chair, a fishing pole, a cigar, and a trashy romance novel, and enjoy the Mediterranean sunshine while heading east towards Tunis.
Unfortunately, some idiot in British HQ failed to inform the Anson pilots that they can’t fly in this zone. They come out of the sun, my boat lined up perfectly. I can’t even get the decks awash by the time they’ve dropped their bombs. Another Kaleun reduced to fish food.
Lesson 3: I will never believe again in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or the notion of an “aircraft-free” zone.
Lesson 4: I will always run submerged during the day unless the weather is so bad it will ground aircraft.
Act III
So now another Kaleun, again oddly with a name only slightly changed from the dumb ass corpses of Acts I and II, passes through Gibraltar. Armed with the knowledge of the doom of his predecessors, he’s very careful. Dumb as a brick, but careful.
Hydrophone picks up a merchant steaming along near Tunis. Since it’s night out and calm seas, I decide to take him on the surface with the deck gun. Rather than do a normal overhaul, I just get on a parallel course to him about 1000m to his starboard, and flog along at flank till I’m directly across from him. Oh, he’s a fat one – a nice, large cargo ship. What do I care if he sees me and starts to zig? I’m going to blow him out of the water!
Just as I’m ordering my men to man the deck gun, my Watch Officer calls out what sounds like “Schiff Ge-zeet-zen”, meaning he’s spotted another vessel. My greedy heart wonders “Is it another fat merchant? Oh, goody, Christmas has come early!” Three seconds later I hear the whistle of a shell coming my way. It’s a destroyer, leading the cargo ship, and I’m right on top of him. The good news is that the first shell kills my worthless watch crew. The bad news is that I’m rapidly blown to chunks.
Lesson 5: I will always personally perform hydrophone and periscope checks before surfacing, and visual checks before engaging.
Lesson 6: I will always perform my overhaul out of visual range.
You’ll notice that in every case it was my own laziness or carelessness that got me croaked. I still have never reached Port Said to even attempt the Averof. And I’m still in 1941.
It’s going to be a long, long war . . .