Foghladh_mhara
03-07-07, 10:20 AM
Ok maybe the title is a bit misleading but U-109 actually returned from a maiden voyage and I feel I can say unequivocally, without fear of exaggeration that I believe this may be the turning point in the war. Granted its only the start of the war when I'm playing but nonetheless.
Picture the scene if you will. Its early in the morning Sep 3rd 1939. Theres a crisp edge in the air & the sky is still dark under the mantle of night. The gulls are bobbing gently on a sea as calm and placid as a millpond & a faint glow to the east signals the imminent arrival of the dawn. All is peaceful yet all is not how it appears. In Poland battle has been joined & Western Europe trembles and holds its breath, fearing what the new day may bring... & fearing who the new day may bring.
The silence is broken by the racous cries of the birds as they take to the air reacting to a disturbance in the tranquillity. At first there is little to see what has prompted such a flight but a bluish cloud on the horizon & the sounds of machinery thrashing the waters announce a new presence. What creature is this?
The sleek, grey object glides ever closer, slicing the sea on either side of her bow into foaming waves that rear up & then dissolve to spray. And high, high up on the back of the beast stands a man, her master, the man they call Foghladh Mhara.... the Plunderer from the Sea.
He stands, ramrod straight, unflinching as the seaspray & occasional gull dropping lashes his ruggedly handsome face. Its is a face that bears the scars of a dozen shaving accidents (and one where he fell off his bike and smacked his chin). It is a face that commands respect & fear. Yet he has doubt in his mind. Doubt in his ability to fulfill his mission. What causes this doubt you may ask? Maybe its the 8 u-boats that have sank under him this week, maybe its because he has never finished a patrol, maybe its the weird look the port lookout keeps giving him (you know the one!)Yet duty drives him on. On to grid AN81! On to glory! On to a patrol in the middle of a bloody minebelt!!
The voicepipe echoes. "Its official Herr Kaleun, we're at war" "Sweet!" thinks the Dashing commander. He turn to address his loyal devoted watch crew. "Be vigilant. I expect everyman to do his duty. Do not fail me" He turns away. Behind the gulls shriek "Git" "Plonker" it sounds like. Hang on a shagging second thats not a gull. After nutting the port lookout he goes below to study his map. And have some dinner.
Its early in the afternoon when the cry rings out from the bridge. "Merchant spotted sir" swiftly followed by the more ominous "Warship spotted sir" He fights the urge to immediately evacuate the bridge & his bowels. He rushes to the bridge pausing only to slap the port lookout. Where is the war ship? There, it is as he feared... the dreaded armed tug. "Watch crew below, Guncrew on deck, ahead flank" he orders stepping on the port lookouts fingers as he slides down the ladder. "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!" he yells to the wind! The bark of the deck gun is punctuated by the shriek of the gulls. "Pretentious Pillock" they scream. All hell breaks loose. 5 mins later calm has returned. 1 tramp steamer & the gallant tug lie on the bottom. The port lookout lies in the stern torpedo room. U109 churns her way west.
Fast forward 5 days & all is different. 5 tramps, 1 small, 1 medium merchie & 2 armed tugs lie on the bottom. The port lookout lies in the bow torpedo room and U109 heads east. U109 heads home
Picture the scene if you will. Its early in the morning Sep 3rd 1939. Theres a crisp edge in the air & the sky is still dark under the mantle of night. The gulls are bobbing gently on a sea as calm and placid as a millpond & a faint glow to the east signals the imminent arrival of the dawn. All is peaceful yet all is not how it appears. In Poland battle has been joined & Western Europe trembles and holds its breath, fearing what the new day may bring... & fearing who the new day may bring.
The silence is broken by the racous cries of the birds as they take to the air reacting to a disturbance in the tranquillity. At first there is little to see what has prompted such a flight but a bluish cloud on the horizon & the sounds of machinery thrashing the waters announce a new presence. What creature is this?
The sleek, grey object glides ever closer, slicing the sea on either side of her bow into foaming waves that rear up & then dissolve to spray. And high, high up on the back of the beast stands a man, her master, the man they call Foghladh Mhara.... the Plunderer from the Sea.
He stands, ramrod straight, unflinching as the seaspray & occasional gull dropping lashes his ruggedly handsome face. Its is a face that bears the scars of a dozen shaving accidents (and one where he fell off his bike and smacked his chin). It is a face that commands respect & fear. Yet he has doubt in his mind. Doubt in his ability to fulfill his mission. What causes this doubt you may ask? Maybe its the 8 u-boats that have sank under him this week, maybe its because he has never finished a patrol, maybe its the weird look the port lookout keeps giving him (you know the one!)Yet duty drives him on. On to grid AN81! On to glory! On to a patrol in the middle of a bloody minebelt!!
The voicepipe echoes. "Its official Herr Kaleun, we're at war" "Sweet!" thinks the Dashing commander. He turn to address his loyal devoted watch crew. "Be vigilant. I expect everyman to do his duty. Do not fail me" He turns away. Behind the gulls shriek "Git" "Plonker" it sounds like. Hang on a shagging second thats not a gull. After nutting the port lookout he goes below to study his map. And have some dinner.
Its early in the afternoon when the cry rings out from the bridge. "Merchant spotted sir" swiftly followed by the more ominous "Warship spotted sir" He fights the urge to immediately evacuate the bridge & his bowels. He rushes to the bridge pausing only to slap the port lookout. Where is the war ship? There, it is as he feared... the dreaded armed tug. "Watch crew below, Guncrew on deck, ahead flank" he orders stepping on the port lookouts fingers as he slides down the ladder. "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!" he yells to the wind! The bark of the deck gun is punctuated by the shriek of the gulls. "Pretentious Pillock" they scream. All hell breaks loose. 5 mins later calm has returned. 1 tramp steamer & the gallant tug lie on the bottom. The port lookout lies in the stern torpedo room. U109 churns her way west.
Fast forward 5 days & all is different. 5 tramps, 1 small, 1 medium merchie & 2 armed tugs lie on the bottom. The port lookout lies in the bow torpedo room and U109 heads east. U109 heads home