Stealth Hunter
11-25-07, 03:35 AM
A few minutes ago, I was playing a campaign on April 12, 1945 aboard an XXI U-boat under the career of Kpt. z. s. Heinz Freiderich Ziepel. Unfortunately, after racking up over 3,000,000 tons, he's perished at sea.
__________________________________________________ _________________
APRIL 10, 1945
TIME ---------------- EVENT
*(0830 Hours) U-634 leaves the Reich's naval base at Narvik, Norway
*(1101 Hours) Contact! Moving away; slow speed; long range!
*(1307 Hours) Lunch in the bow quarters
*(2020 Hours) Dinner in the bow quarters
*(2100 Hours) Rig for red
APRIL 11, 1945
*(0647 Hours) Radio Message Received! [see below this entry for details]
*(0700 Hours) New navigational course plotted for appropriate action in response to radio message received from U-1020
*(0745 Hours) Breakfast in the bow quarters
*(1200 Hours) Lunch in the bow quarters
*(2000 Hours) Dinner in the bow quarters
*(2144 Hours) Message from BdU confirms convoy -North of Cherbourg-; all units within 200 miles of zone ordered to respond to the convoy
*(2150 Hours) Speed, course, and ships within convoy estimated by Herr Ziepel
[U]APRIL 12, 1945
*(0531 Hours) Convoy position empty; nothing in sight
*(0549 Hours) Enemy fleet of battleships and destroyers sighted! American forces!
In the next few moments, I ordered an immediate dive to periscope depth, the torpedo tubes 1-4 of 6 to be opened, and for all available crewmen to take up a job aboard the vessel wherever one may be open. The destroyers converge on me first. They spit down their depth charges on us.
BANG! BOOM! CRACK!
The sub rocks back and forth. Crewmen seem to flail about. Only one is injured, but it's only a broken wrist. In action he finds most appropriate for the situation, Ziepel orders a sick/medical area for the wounded and dead to be set up in the bow quarters. All other stations are filled to the max. Everyone who is NOT injured and is waiting in the bow/stern quarters areas is sent to the damage control team.
CRACK! BANG! BOOM!
More explosions. No one is injured. It seems those bastardly contraptions that fling explosive charges into the sea dozens of meters away are going to work. No damage, not even a simple rock of the boat. Ziepel gives them the slip by cutting the engines to "AHEAD SLOW" and taking the boat down to a depth of 75 meters. A single destroyer comes back for one more attack run.
BOOM! CRACK! BANG!
Running along at 75 meters, Ziepel cuts the engines to nothing. He sputters them on and off from fast, to standard, to off, to slow over and over again. It seems that the enemies above have taken the bait. The enemy, it turns out, has been pinging them, but they believe him to be dead. In fact, he is waiting for their foolish minds to drive them away from him.
. . .SILENCE. . .
They've gone. Ziepel moves back up to periscope depth. He surveys the enemy moving about. They think him dead. He re-opens tubes 1-4 of 6, and he locks an acoustic torpedo onto an enemy battleship. He cuts his engines, again, to nothing.
"FIRE!"
The torpedo streams out at a fast pace. The battleship doesn't see it. Ziepel has been wise in setting the depth for 10 meters. The bubbles don't show as easily. He waits, he counts the seconds on his pocket watch.
. . .SILENCE. . .
Nothing. No boom, no bang, no nothing. He thinks that perhaps the torpedo has proved to be a dud, or has completely missed. The destroyers turn back round to finish their job.
KRAAAACK!
A HUGE explosion rips the Iowa battleship to pieces. It appears that it came in from the side, not into the rear. That torpedo has struck home in the engine room, and it's set a huge chain reaction off. Screams and shrieks from the ship tearing itself apart echo throughout the early morning breeze. A destroyer near by is hit with debris.
KABOOOOM!
Another ship founders. The destroyer has ripped itself apart. Flaming debris ignited something inside, and it seems all is well.
SSSSSCCCCRAAAPE----------
A destroyer comes up and rams Ziepel's bow. Sea water pours in, and it seems that they're doomed. Depth charges are dropped, and one hits the radio/sonar room. The radio operator is instantly killed, but the sonar man is severely wounded; not dead, though. The damage control team tackles the flooding in the bow quarters. It's fairly bad. The wounded sonar man is taken to the medic in the flooding room, and he's laid out in a cot. He's taken a bad hit to the chest, but he might survive.
"AAALLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMM MMMMMM!!!!!!"
CRASH DIVE! Ziepel runs to the control room and orders this emergency maneuver. He's got to get away from these bastards. In his own arrogance and underestimation of the enemy, he did not see his quarry behind him. The sub moves down quickly. She levels out at 95 meters, but that's due to the flood water that's sitting in the bow quarters. The damage team has at least gotten the tear patched up, but the water must be pumped out.
BOOOOOOOM. BOOOOM..! BOOOM...! BOOM....!
Depth charges explode all around the vessel. Ziepel's engines are knocked out. His periscope is destroyed, and his sonar is ravaged. He's now blind, deaf, AND paralyzed. One more charge floats down and BOOM! The conning tower suffers severe damage. It's been destroyed, along with the radio antenna.
Dumb.
Blind, deaf, dumb, and paralyzed. The situation is incredibly bad. All this in an hour and a half. He's got several options: blow the ballast tanks and surrender OR blow ballast and make a last, but definitely fatal, stand.
"Blowing Main Ballast!"
In this process, Ziepel glances over at the depth gauge. It's at 176 meters. "Must have gotten that from the flooding," he remarks. Slowly, slowly the sub works its way towards the surface, a meter a second. Ziepel runs up to Leutnant Matthias, and orders him to load one tube with another acoustic torpedo. All others have acoustics loaded and ready in them already.
The depth gauge reads that he's going to surface in 20 seconds. He climbs up into the conning tower with a white flag, ready to surrender. As the XXI reaches the surface, he opens up the hatch and waves the flag wildly.
. . .SILENCE. . .
The American ships don't fire. Within minutes, they surround his vessel. Ziepel speaks English quite well, and he understands it, too. After a discussion with the main fleet commander, they reach an agreement: Ziepel is to be escorted to England along with his U-boat. Two destroyers shall be positioned with their guns fixed on him from his left and right sides. They'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid... so they think...
The helmsman keeps along with the main Nevada battleship. Ziepel is in his cabin, dressing in his white uniform, medals and all. He's shaven his stubble, and cleaned himself up. This is his finest hour.
He heads back into the control room. The situation is explained, and so is his plan. The crew scurries up the ladder. On their way, Matthias opens all the torpedo tubes. The crew assembles on deck. The American destroyers fix their guns on the ship, in suspicion. They call out to them, "What are you doing? Go below, and DO NOT come up again!" The crew does not respond. Suddenly, the sub stops, as do the destroyers.
Six trails of bubbles can be seen in the water. Two of them slam into the Nevada battleship, blowing it to pieces. The others find their marks in destroyers ahead of the Nevada. The two destroyers on the left and right sides of U-634 open fire. The crew of the sub dive into the sea, swimming to the destroyers. Ziepel sits below, in his cabin just beside the radio and sonar rooms. He places a record down on the gramophone, and it plays away. He follows along with Van Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". Shells from the parallel destroyers rip into the aft section of Ziepels sub. They cease fire, and the damage is done. XXI U-634 and Herr Ziepel are condemned to be no more. He makes no effort to save himself from the flooding submarine.
Ziepel pulls out a bottle of champagne from below his bunk. He drinks about a third of it, and he continues to follow along with the music. His depth should be about 95 meters below the surface at the moment. Water pours into his cabin, and it reaches his ankles in seconds. His depth is increasing, as is the flood water. It's nearing his knees. Slowly, the walls buckle inwards, and the sub continues on it's long journey into the deep.
. . .SILENT IS THE HUNTER. . .
__________________________________________________ _________________
APRIL 10, 1945
TIME ---------------- EVENT
*(0830 Hours) U-634 leaves the Reich's naval base at Narvik, Norway
*(1101 Hours) Contact! Moving away; slow speed; long range!
*(1307 Hours) Lunch in the bow quarters
*(2020 Hours) Dinner in the bow quarters
*(2100 Hours) Rig for red
APRIL 11, 1945
*(0647 Hours) Radio Message Received! [see below this entry for details]
*(0700 Hours) New navigational course plotted for appropriate action in response to radio message received from U-1020
*(0745 Hours) Breakfast in the bow quarters
*(1200 Hours) Lunch in the bow quarters
*(2000 Hours) Dinner in the bow quarters
*(2144 Hours) Message from BdU confirms convoy -North of Cherbourg-; all units within 200 miles of zone ordered to respond to the convoy
*(2150 Hours) Speed, course, and ships within convoy estimated by Herr Ziepel
[U]APRIL 12, 1945
*(0531 Hours) Convoy position empty; nothing in sight
*(0549 Hours) Enemy fleet of battleships and destroyers sighted! American forces!
In the next few moments, I ordered an immediate dive to periscope depth, the torpedo tubes 1-4 of 6 to be opened, and for all available crewmen to take up a job aboard the vessel wherever one may be open. The destroyers converge on me first. They spit down their depth charges on us.
BANG! BOOM! CRACK!
The sub rocks back and forth. Crewmen seem to flail about. Only one is injured, but it's only a broken wrist. In action he finds most appropriate for the situation, Ziepel orders a sick/medical area for the wounded and dead to be set up in the bow quarters. All other stations are filled to the max. Everyone who is NOT injured and is waiting in the bow/stern quarters areas is sent to the damage control team.
CRACK! BANG! BOOM!
More explosions. No one is injured. It seems those bastardly contraptions that fling explosive charges into the sea dozens of meters away are going to work. No damage, not even a simple rock of the boat. Ziepel gives them the slip by cutting the engines to "AHEAD SLOW" and taking the boat down to a depth of 75 meters. A single destroyer comes back for one more attack run.
BOOM! CRACK! BANG!
Running along at 75 meters, Ziepel cuts the engines to nothing. He sputters them on and off from fast, to standard, to off, to slow over and over again. It seems that the enemies above have taken the bait. The enemy, it turns out, has been pinging them, but they believe him to be dead. In fact, he is waiting for their foolish minds to drive them away from him.
. . .SILENCE. . .
They've gone. Ziepel moves back up to periscope depth. He surveys the enemy moving about. They think him dead. He re-opens tubes 1-4 of 6, and he locks an acoustic torpedo onto an enemy battleship. He cuts his engines, again, to nothing.
"FIRE!"
The torpedo streams out at a fast pace. The battleship doesn't see it. Ziepel has been wise in setting the depth for 10 meters. The bubbles don't show as easily. He waits, he counts the seconds on his pocket watch.
. . .SILENCE. . .
Nothing. No boom, no bang, no nothing. He thinks that perhaps the torpedo has proved to be a dud, or has completely missed. The destroyers turn back round to finish their job.
KRAAAACK!
A HUGE explosion rips the Iowa battleship to pieces. It appears that it came in from the side, not into the rear. That torpedo has struck home in the engine room, and it's set a huge chain reaction off. Screams and shrieks from the ship tearing itself apart echo throughout the early morning breeze. A destroyer near by is hit with debris.
KABOOOOM!
Another ship founders. The destroyer has ripped itself apart. Flaming debris ignited something inside, and it seems all is well.
SSSSSCCCCRAAAPE----------
A destroyer comes up and rams Ziepel's bow. Sea water pours in, and it seems that they're doomed. Depth charges are dropped, and one hits the radio/sonar room. The radio operator is instantly killed, but the sonar man is severely wounded; not dead, though. The damage control team tackles the flooding in the bow quarters. It's fairly bad. The wounded sonar man is taken to the medic in the flooding room, and he's laid out in a cot. He's taken a bad hit to the chest, but he might survive.
"AAALLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMM MMMMMM!!!!!!"
CRASH DIVE! Ziepel runs to the control room and orders this emergency maneuver. He's got to get away from these bastards. In his own arrogance and underestimation of the enemy, he did not see his quarry behind him. The sub moves down quickly. She levels out at 95 meters, but that's due to the flood water that's sitting in the bow quarters. The damage team has at least gotten the tear patched up, but the water must be pumped out.
BOOOOOOOM. BOOOOM..! BOOOM...! BOOM....!
Depth charges explode all around the vessel. Ziepel's engines are knocked out. His periscope is destroyed, and his sonar is ravaged. He's now blind, deaf, AND paralyzed. One more charge floats down and BOOM! The conning tower suffers severe damage. It's been destroyed, along with the radio antenna.
Dumb.
Blind, deaf, dumb, and paralyzed. The situation is incredibly bad. All this in an hour and a half. He's got several options: blow the ballast tanks and surrender OR blow ballast and make a last, but definitely fatal, stand.
"Blowing Main Ballast!"
In this process, Ziepel glances over at the depth gauge. It's at 176 meters. "Must have gotten that from the flooding," he remarks. Slowly, slowly the sub works its way towards the surface, a meter a second. Ziepel runs up to Leutnant Matthias, and orders him to load one tube with another acoustic torpedo. All others have acoustics loaded and ready in them already.
The depth gauge reads that he's going to surface in 20 seconds. He climbs up into the conning tower with a white flag, ready to surrender. As the XXI reaches the surface, he opens up the hatch and waves the flag wildly.
. . .SILENCE. . .
The American ships don't fire. Within minutes, they surround his vessel. Ziepel speaks English quite well, and he understands it, too. After a discussion with the main fleet commander, they reach an agreement: Ziepel is to be escorted to England along with his U-boat. Two destroyers shall be positioned with their guns fixed on him from his left and right sides. They'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid... so they think...
The helmsman keeps along with the main Nevada battleship. Ziepel is in his cabin, dressing in his white uniform, medals and all. He's shaven his stubble, and cleaned himself up. This is his finest hour.
He heads back into the control room. The situation is explained, and so is his plan. The crew scurries up the ladder. On their way, Matthias opens all the torpedo tubes. The crew assembles on deck. The American destroyers fix their guns on the ship, in suspicion. They call out to them, "What are you doing? Go below, and DO NOT come up again!" The crew does not respond. Suddenly, the sub stops, as do the destroyers.
Six trails of bubbles can be seen in the water. Two of them slam into the Nevada battleship, blowing it to pieces. The others find their marks in destroyers ahead of the Nevada. The two destroyers on the left and right sides of U-634 open fire. The crew of the sub dive into the sea, swimming to the destroyers. Ziepel sits below, in his cabin just beside the radio and sonar rooms. He places a record down on the gramophone, and it plays away. He follows along with Van Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". Shells from the parallel destroyers rip into the aft section of Ziepels sub. They cease fire, and the damage is done. XXI U-634 and Herr Ziepel are condemned to be no more. He makes no effort to save himself from the flooding submarine.
Ziepel pulls out a bottle of champagne from below his bunk. He drinks about a third of it, and he continues to follow along with the music. His depth should be about 95 meters below the surface at the moment. Water pours into his cabin, and it reaches his ankles in seconds. His depth is increasing, as is the flood water. It's nearing his knees. Slowly, the walls buckle inwards, and the sub continues on it's long journey into the deep.
. . .SILENT IS THE HUNTER. . .