Vipre
10-12-12, 01:44 PM
This being, with the exception of the Academy tutorials, my first time playing SH3 I decided to write down my experiences in campaign mode.
I wanted to remember how it felt the first time I sighted a target, the first torpedo in the water, first kill, and first time I found myself in trouble. No
game guides, no saves, no second chances.I wrote it for me but thought someone might enjoy how that very first game looked through truly fresh eyes.
U-3 Hans Richter
Patrol 1 - 9/3/39 to 9/13/39
Time fades all memory and I want to record these first days of command as closely to the way they were as I can before that happens.
The date was the First of September, Nineteen Thirty-nine. Having received command of the U-3, a Type IIA boat, and arrived
at Wilhelmshaven I set to the task of making sure all was in order for its first mission under my hand, It should be a surprise
to none that it wasn't.
As I inspected my vessel all seemed ready to sail until I asked for the flak gun to be presented. The 2cm weapon had apparently
failed to arrive requiring another requisition be made. This would take two days.
In addition I found the crew roster to be partially unfilled. This was of little concern as the pool of volunteers was deep enough
to fill all open slots. I later came to wish I'd had more than the twenty-seven crew members I was allowed as fatigue became an
ongoing problem, especially among my four officers.
We spent the Third preparing to get underway, making sure all the "i's" were dotted as it were, and set sail shortly before sunset
to the sound of band music and a cheering crowd. I freely admit to feeling anxious about what might lie ahead but in that moment,
as the engines came alive and we began to move forward under the gaze of those gathered to see us off, I felt a surge of pride.
Darkness fell soon after we cleared port and before we'd made our turn Northwards. I stood on the bridge for nearly an hour I believe
in the black cloak of night listening to the gulls cry and the sound of water breaking across the bow, the steady drone of the engines
combining with them to form a surprisingly beautiful and peaceful music.
Our mission was to patrol grid AN87, the waters off the Western tip of Norway. This I felt was too far North to be of any value but it
is not my place as an officer to second guess orders. It did place us in position to intercept traffic coming down the North coast, and
if nothing else gave me opportunity to familiarize with the abilities of both crew and boat.
The majority of our cruise was too dull to note. The bulk of my time was spent organizing a duty roster, not an easy task I found with
so small a crew as I wrote earlier. By reassigning the bulk of the torpedo crew as a second shift engineering team and the recruits
added in port as backups for the other positions fatigue was kept in check. Among my officers it was another story. With only four
and with need of one on watch I found I had no option come to mind other than one man handle all duties while the other two rested.
Our first merchant sighting came roughly halfway to our assigned area. Mind filled only with thoughts of my "first kill" as commander
of a U-boat, ignorance and ego combined to convince me I could make the shot in spite of knowing the range was impractically long,
the angle poor and I'd bungled the speed calculation. Refusing to accept the reality of it I ordered the shot fired without a shred of
expectation it would connect. I won't have any crew again see me make the same fool of myself.
The next "sighting" came later that night or possibly the next I don't quite recall. The U-3 was at periscope depth, so that first shift
and the entire watch crew could rest but I would still be able to look around if needed, when my hydro operator Bootsmann Creutz
reported a contact at long range bearing forty degrees to starboard.
I made a note of it and though had no desire to go after I instructed him to keep track of it. Shortly before midnight he reported the
updated bearing. Not only had the estimated distance to the ship decreased significantly it appeared to be passing close to our stern.
Somewhat surprised we'd so nearly intercepted by pure chance I raised the scope to take a look. Unbelievably, right around a
kilometer away was another small merchant.
Ordering a reversal of direction to take a closer look I determined the merchant's course. It was clear it came from the port of Bergen
and based on heading appeared to be outbound to Scotland or Northern England. I decided such a gift of a target was too good to
pass up.
Bringing the U-3 to within six hundred meters of the projected passing course I readied torpedo tube one and waited. After the
embarrassment of my last attempt I decided to let my weapons officer Oberfähnrich Hartenstein handle the necessary firing calculations.
When I felt the time was right I gave the order to fire.
Time ticked by as we waited to hear the weapon strike true, until finally detonation! The impact wasn't perfect, in fact it nearly missed.
The strike was in the stern and the explosion had set fire to the cargo crates stacked on deck. As smoke and flames billowed skyward
I moved to the radio area and took over the hydrophone controls. The sound coming from the stricken vessel was a sickly one to be
certain however it wasn't dead yet.
Returning to the periscope I noticed a distinct settling of the merchant's stern and matching lift of the bow. If it was to be flooding that
sank it so be it, we would wait it out. After a time annoyance set in as not only did it not continue settling but it started to move once
more.
Almost as soon as it got underway it lost propulsion again. It had been, I think, an hour since we'd torpedoed the ship and I was losing
patience waiting for it to sink. That they'd managed even shortly to get the engines running along with the possibility it may have help
on the way made me decide to end the wait with a second hit. There was no surviving that second torpedo as the merchant split in
half, bobbed for a moment, and went down midships first.
By dawn it was obvious a storm was brewing. The horizon was black and thunder could be heard all around. This continued until a
little after our arrival at AF87 when the storm let loose. Oddly I don't recall any rain only twenty to thirty knot winds, fog, and lots
of lightning. I had hoped it would quickly blow itself out but it didn't. As the sea began to churn I realized I'd stuck too closely to land.
The high waves and equally deep troughs seemed certain to slam us into the shallow bottom as we were being tossed around like a
child's bathtub toy. Any attempt to dive under the waves would guarantee it, there was barely enough depth to get the tower wet.
I plotted a course...who am I kidding, I set course due west toward deeper water and crossed my fingers.
We did not bottom out, thankfully. Slipping into deeper water I ordered us to periscope depth but it wasn't enough. Took us another
eight meters to smooth things out and we stayed down until the batteries ran low. The storm kept up the rest of the day and into the
next.
After twenty-four hours without a single sighting, contact, or radio report and with my navigator telling me we lacked fuel enough to
make it back to port we set course South by South-East and home.
Entering the waters West of Kristiansand we finally began picking up traffic an hydro and even a radio report of an enemy warship within
fifty kilometers of Wilhelmshaven. As the enemy vessel was spotted heading West, my navigator was still insisting we couldn't make it
to port on the fuel left, and the men were visibly worn out I let it be and stayed on course. Despite the storm clouds rolling in days earlier
and following us our whole patrol it wasn't until now it began to rain. It poured right up until we entered port.
Shrugging off what had to be damp and uncomfortable air to them we were again greeted with the sound of band music and people cheering.
I instructed the helm as we neared our slip to swing around a hundred and eighty degrees and back into docking position. It seemed only
fitting to end our task as we'd begun, facing out to sea and our next patrol.
I wanted to remember how it felt the first time I sighted a target, the first torpedo in the water, first kill, and first time I found myself in trouble. No
game guides, no saves, no second chances.I wrote it for me but thought someone might enjoy how that very first game looked through truly fresh eyes.
U-3 Hans Richter
Patrol 1 - 9/3/39 to 9/13/39
Time fades all memory and I want to record these first days of command as closely to the way they were as I can before that happens.
The date was the First of September, Nineteen Thirty-nine. Having received command of the U-3, a Type IIA boat, and arrived
at Wilhelmshaven I set to the task of making sure all was in order for its first mission under my hand, It should be a surprise
to none that it wasn't.
As I inspected my vessel all seemed ready to sail until I asked for the flak gun to be presented. The 2cm weapon had apparently
failed to arrive requiring another requisition be made. This would take two days.
In addition I found the crew roster to be partially unfilled. This was of little concern as the pool of volunteers was deep enough
to fill all open slots. I later came to wish I'd had more than the twenty-seven crew members I was allowed as fatigue became an
ongoing problem, especially among my four officers.
We spent the Third preparing to get underway, making sure all the "i's" were dotted as it were, and set sail shortly before sunset
to the sound of band music and a cheering crowd. I freely admit to feeling anxious about what might lie ahead but in that moment,
as the engines came alive and we began to move forward under the gaze of those gathered to see us off, I felt a surge of pride.
Darkness fell soon after we cleared port and before we'd made our turn Northwards. I stood on the bridge for nearly an hour I believe
in the black cloak of night listening to the gulls cry and the sound of water breaking across the bow, the steady drone of the engines
combining with them to form a surprisingly beautiful and peaceful music.
Our mission was to patrol grid AN87, the waters off the Western tip of Norway. This I felt was too far North to be of any value but it
is not my place as an officer to second guess orders. It did place us in position to intercept traffic coming down the North coast, and
if nothing else gave me opportunity to familiarize with the abilities of both crew and boat.
The majority of our cruise was too dull to note. The bulk of my time was spent organizing a duty roster, not an easy task I found with
so small a crew as I wrote earlier. By reassigning the bulk of the torpedo crew as a second shift engineering team and the recruits
added in port as backups for the other positions fatigue was kept in check. Among my officers it was another story. With only four
and with need of one on watch I found I had no option come to mind other than one man handle all duties while the other two rested.
Our first merchant sighting came roughly halfway to our assigned area. Mind filled only with thoughts of my "first kill" as commander
of a U-boat, ignorance and ego combined to convince me I could make the shot in spite of knowing the range was impractically long,
the angle poor and I'd bungled the speed calculation. Refusing to accept the reality of it I ordered the shot fired without a shred of
expectation it would connect. I won't have any crew again see me make the same fool of myself.
The next "sighting" came later that night or possibly the next I don't quite recall. The U-3 was at periscope depth, so that first shift
and the entire watch crew could rest but I would still be able to look around if needed, when my hydro operator Bootsmann Creutz
reported a contact at long range bearing forty degrees to starboard.
I made a note of it and though had no desire to go after I instructed him to keep track of it. Shortly before midnight he reported the
updated bearing. Not only had the estimated distance to the ship decreased significantly it appeared to be passing close to our stern.
Somewhat surprised we'd so nearly intercepted by pure chance I raised the scope to take a look. Unbelievably, right around a
kilometer away was another small merchant.
Ordering a reversal of direction to take a closer look I determined the merchant's course. It was clear it came from the port of Bergen
and based on heading appeared to be outbound to Scotland or Northern England. I decided such a gift of a target was too good to
pass up.
Bringing the U-3 to within six hundred meters of the projected passing course I readied torpedo tube one and waited. After the
embarrassment of my last attempt I decided to let my weapons officer Oberfähnrich Hartenstein handle the necessary firing calculations.
When I felt the time was right I gave the order to fire.
Time ticked by as we waited to hear the weapon strike true, until finally detonation! The impact wasn't perfect, in fact it nearly missed.
The strike was in the stern and the explosion had set fire to the cargo crates stacked on deck. As smoke and flames billowed skyward
I moved to the radio area and took over the hydrophone controls. The sound coming from the stricken vessel was a sickly one to be
certain however it wasn't dead yet.
Returning to the periscope I noticed a distinct settling of the merchant's stern and matching lift of the bow. If it was to be flooding that
sank it so be it, we would wait it out. After a time annoyance set in as not only did it not continue settling but it started to move once
more.
Almost as soon as it got underway it lost propulsion again. It had been, I think, an hour since we'd torpedoed the ship and I was losing
patience waiting for it to sink. That they'd managed even shortly to get the engines running along with the possibility it may have help
on the way made me decide to end the wait with a second hit. There was no surviving that second torpedo as the merchant split in
half, bobbed for a moment, and went down midships first.
By dawn it was obvious a storm was brewing. The horizon was black and thunder could be heard all around. This continued until a
little after our arrival at AF87 when the storm let loose. Oddly I don't recall any rain only twenty to thirty knot winds, fog, and lots
of lightning. I had hoped it would quickly blow itself out but it didn't. As the sea began to churn I realized I'd stuck too closely to land.
The high waves and equally deep troughs seemed certain to slam us into the shallow bottom as we were being tossed around like a
child's bathtub toy. Any attempt to dive under the waves would guarantee it, there was barely enough depth to get the tower wet.
I plotted a course...who am I kidding, I set course due west toward deeper water and crossed my fingers.
We did not bottom out, thankfully. Slipping into deeper water I ordered us to periscope depth but it wasn't enough. Took us another
eight meters to smooth things out and we stayed down until the batteries ran low. The storm kept up the rest of the day and into the
next.
After twenty-four hours without a single sighting, contact, or radio report and with my navigator telling me we lacked fuel enough to
make it back to port we set course South by South-East and home.
Entering the waters West of Kristiansand we finally began picking up traffic an hydro and even a radio report of an enemy warship within
fifty kilometers of Wilhelmshaven. As the enemy vessel was spotted heading West, my navigator was still insisting we couldn't make it
to port on the fuel left, and the men were visibly worn out I let it be and stayed on course. Despite the storm clouds rolling in days earlier
and following us our whole patrol it wasn't until now it began to rain. It poured right up until we entered port.
Shrugging off what had to be damp and uncomfortable air to them we were again greeted with the sound of band music and people cheering.
I instructed the helm as we neared our slip to swing around a hundred and eighty degrees and back into docking position. It seemed only
fitting to end our task as we'd begun, facing out to sea and our next patrol.