Let's Play: Das Thanasboot!

[Skywalker_T-65]

Oh well, I can wait...I am very patient...(unless someone rushes me....)

[MKSheppard]

Or we could have a hilarious Silent Hunter 1 interlude while we wait?

Commander John Frau Merkel of the USS Slapdash (SS-666)?

[Thanas]

Oppressing far easterners is what she/he/it does best.


(obvious joke. Don't yell at me if you don't get it or have never seen the wire)

[Chardok]

Von Dokken felt as if he were frozen in time. The seconds ticked away endlessly.
"No.."

The seconds were not ticking away at all. He realized with horror that everything had frozen, locked in place, including him. He could only glance about helplessly. his arms, legs, everything were immovable chunks of iron. a pall of smoke hung motionless in midair, Der Kommandant stood stone-still, face contorted with rage, one finger jammed into the chest of his unfortunate watch offcer, screaming an obscenity that would never be completed. An odd grease pencil dropped by a hapless Montrose frozen in mid-fall. Even the quiet humming and buzzing of the various "repaired" electrical "circuits" had stopped. At that moment, von Dokken realized he wasn't even breathing.

"Vat Manner of sorcery eez thees?!" He thought.

"Bork borkken durrrg!"

Von dokken went even colder. From the corner of his peripheral vision, Cook happily marched by him, then stopped, turned, and apprently realizing for the first time that von dokken was aware of him, he crept closer to him...closer....inches from his face, Cook stared at him for a moment, then, cracked that hideous smile, that...knowing, mischevious grin. Cook patted von dokken on the head, then with a "Bork!" skipped over to Der Kommandant, seeming to inspect him. He frowned a bit, looked back at Von Dokken and said "Vern derrken! Looken at der kommodur! He surrrrrrrrd!" then, with a slight chuckle, he put his fingers on either side of Der Kommandant's mouth, and stretched the corners into a horrible, twisted smile. He then pushed up the eyebrows and, with a flourish, placed several daisies into the Kommandant's clutched hand. He then laughed maniacally and continued towards the back of the boot. If Von Dokken could, he would be on the floor both horrified and supremely entertained.

The Kommandant looked as if he were serenading the watch officer and offering him flowers. FLOWERS!

How did flowers get onto the boot, anyway?

Von dokken considered the ludicrousness of the thought. He was frozen in place; seemingly everyone was; the only person who seemed unaffected by whatever force held tight everyone in das boot the insane cook and he was worried about flowers.

"Maybee der koch eest nicht such a bat guy." von dokken thought. He chuckled silently again; this also was a ludicrous thought.

[PeZook]

8

Position BE63
Smell level: moderately low
Sept 13, 1943
10:17 local time

Der Kommandant Thanas stared in disbelief at the buquet of daisies he was holding in his hand. The crew of die Zentrale stared in even more disbelief at their Kommandant's pose, daisies in his hand, outstretched towards leutnant von Shapp.

"Verrdammt!"

The single curse, uttered with such uncharacteristic anger, was enough to kick everyone back into action. Even then, it was hard to shake the sheer awkwardness of that moment. How did daisies get onto the boot, anyways?

It didn't matter. They were thrown down to the rafters, to be trampled by heavy sailor boots, forever.

Stabsbootsman von Dokken would smile, if the kommandant himself hadn't come into the Funkskompartment and tore the headphones off the sonarman's head. He listened to the new set of screws for a few minutes, a fierce frown upon his brow.

"Ve vill interzept, jawohl. Chief! Set course south-southeast! Flank speed ahead!"

The machine telegraph was clicked twice, silently - as the boot still remained under silent running.
Thus, a loud zap was reduced to a quiet, hushed zap followed by a litanny of subdued curses from the e-maschinenraum.

Kommandant Thanas sighed, in the darkness - for all the lights went out as well.

Von Dokken turned his hydrophones. Was that...no, he must've been mistaken.

On the surface
Smell level: neglible
Sept 13, 1943
10:26 local time

Stabsbootsman von Dokken wasn't mistaken. Unbeknownst to the crew of U-1313, two destroyer escorts have been slowly circling above at a mere two knots. They knew a submarine was there, because of the torpedo explosion - and their well trained, though inexperienced crews knew a thing or two about how u-boats behaved. With TWO separate convoys in the immediate vicinity, they could not allow the boot to get away.

And their patience was rewarded - their hydrophones have picked up clear sounds of two screws, rapidly speeding up.

And so they sprung their trap. With a tremendous roar, the first escort sped up, turned and released its deadly cargo.

---

Bootsman von Dokken listened with terror as the faint whispers suddenly turned into vicious whooping of destroyer screws, followed immediately thereafter by tell-tale splashes. He tore off his headphones, yelling about depth charges.

"Vat depth charges? Ve didn't even...", leutnant Zwingen managed to start to comment, before der Kommandant began to yell orders.

"Emergency dive! Zwei hundred metern! Rudder hard to port!"

Von Shapp sprung into action and roared, well before herr Zwingen's brain could process the first part of the command, "EMERGENCY DIVE! ALLES MENSCH VER AUS!"

A veritable avalanche of sailors rushed through the Zentrale. One slipped on the daisy petals and fell, hitting his head very hard on the attack chart table, but everyone else didn't pay him any heed, stomping over him with ruthless Thanasian efficiency.

Ian Skywalker gulped, as orders criss-crossed in the stale air. Vents hissed and plane-wheels were turned. U-1313 began to suddenly plunge into the ocean's murky deep.

And not a moment too soon. Before the last Matrose managed to impact the massive man-pile forming in the forward compartment, the depth charges began to detonate.



The boot shook and quivered as if it was in the process of kicking a downed Zenobian peasant - except it was the one which was being kicked. Its hull groaned, straining against the shockwaves of the sea and the increasing pressure of the water.

"Von Dokken! I need a good bearing to those merchants, jawohl!", Kommandant Thanas shouted over the chaos of the emergency dive. The Tiefenmesser's gauge was now plunging well into red territorry. The boot's screws viciously whipped the water.

"Herr Kommandant! Shouldn't ve slow down and hide?!", leutnant Zwingen yelled. He had to, because an electrocuted mechanic was screaming his head off back in the emaschinenraum.

"Nein!", kommandant Thanas barked in response. Another set of depth charges plunged into the water above, sprayed by two destroyers from broadside projectors in a very nice and very deadly pattern.

"I...can't...explosions, herr kommandant...they vill..."

"Give me ze bearings! NOW!"

Von Dokken gulped and put his phones back on. Amplified by the hydrophones, depth charge detonations could be...unhealthy, even to his superior Thanasian eardrums. He began quickly fixing all the merchantment, which were put on the map by the navigator, von Doofenberg. And to his terror, he realized there were now THREE escorts lining up to bomb them, and a fourth, very faint warship contact somewhere to the south-east - but closing in fast.

But the Kommandant had his data - and so, not a moment too soon, von Dokken tore the phones back off, just as the next batch of depth charges were starting to detonate. With expert opressive instincts, der Kommandant ascertained the situation, glancing at the navigational chart after contemptuously shoving the weapons officer aside.

The second convoy was close. Very close. And ze escorts, obviously inexperienced, were now getting in each other's way. If he made a speed run underwater towards the defenceless merchantmen, it could be possible to attack them, rising at great risk to attack depth, firing torpedoes and plunging back into the relative safety of the ocean's abbyss, then crossing below the merchants and disappearing.

Vicious ASDIC pings reverberated through the hull. Depth charge detonations were causing his crew to cower and mutter prayers, as the lights flickered on and off and the boot groaned with each punishing blast. With each minute, the chance of a succesful attack were diminishing. But an attempt to attack could mean doom for his boot and its crew.

As the Kommandant thought, the escorts continued their vicious attack.



The crew stared at their commander. Vat vould ze Kommandant do?

[Force Lord]

Zwingen gulped as the depth charges' vibration kept shaking the Boot.

"Gott protect us...", he whispered.

[FaxModem1]

The Arisch Koch skipped from Command to the Galley, happy at all the excitement surrounding him. Looking at the pretty man being filled with electric light, the Koch started to whistle a tune. Or, as they liked to say in his homeland.

"It's a beooteeffool dey. Bork Bork Bork!"

[Thanas]

PEZOOOK. Never ever increase speed. Notice how I specifically call for speed increases if I want one? The above shouldn't have happened.

All there is to do now is to reduce speed to 1 knots again, change angle once again (15 degrees off official course should do).

[PeZook]

PEZOOOK. Never ever increase speed. Notice how I specifically call for speed increases if I want one? The above shouldn't have happened.

All there is to do now is to reduce speed to 1 knots again, change angle once again (15 degrees off official course should do).

Huh. I assumed you wanted an intercept

Okay, I'll remember that. So you won't be risking an attack, then?

[Thanas]

Yeah, I wanted an intercept by trying to catch them while not increasing speed. Boot safety is more important than anything else.

[Skywalker_T-65]

"Phew...we aren't attacking...thank God for that..." Skywalker mumbled quietly. Hopefully no one heard him...he needed more time to think up a way to attack the next target. Like actually listening to that odd slide ruler this time...

[LaCroix]

*jerk* *wince* *groan* *glow* *wimper*

[Skywalker_T-65]

So...we going to have an update today? Just wondering...

[Chardok]

Von Dokken glared at the Strangely-named offizier, whispering harshly, "vee are unter zilent roonings! take it to out ov karackter!". It took him a few seconds to break his angry glare and slowly place his headphones back on, turning to his precious hydrophone console. He stole another quick glance at Skywalker, rolled his eyes, and continued pretending to turn knobs and activate switches whilst waiting for Der Kommandant to execute his next brilliant manuver. He knew he'd end up with koch for a day or so after that bit of insubordination, but it was worth it, he despised people with weird names.

[PeZook]

9

Position BE63
Smell level: moderately low
Sept 13, 1943
13:27 local time

Von Dokken's eyes were closed. His sleep-derived brain needed to dispense with as much sensory input as possible, in order to be able to process the rapidly changing situation topside, which to him was known only due to a dance of bearings and screw sounds and depth charge splashes.

"Depth charges!", he would shout with each passing destroyer, hearing faint yet ominous splashes. It has been three hours. Three hours of incessant, relentless bombardment by the four destroyers circling above. The air inside the boot smelled of sweat and fear, fear felt by the enlisted men who, under silent running, could do little but lie on their bunks or the floor and wince every time a torrent of underwater explosions shook the boot.

Der Kommandant would maneuver, expertly, calling out commands from the Funkskompartment, based on nothing but Von Dokken's bearing calls. But he was tired, too. Dead tired, commanding his ship through a second long attack in barely a day. The boot's hull groaned around him,

Inside the Zentrale, leutnant Ian Skywalker listened to the distant explosions, trying to wipe his forehead with an uttely sweat-soaked handkerchief.

"Mein gott, when will this end...", he muttered to himself.

"When they get a charge within five metres or less, herr leutnant", Bootsman Huber said, matter of factly.

Skywalker shot him a nasty look. Before he could think of anything to say, or whimper, in reponse, von Dokken called again, "Charges in the water!"

HMS Peacekeeper, 245 metres above
Smell level: neglible
Sept 13, 1943
13:34 local time

"Charges away!"

"Lost ASDIC contact, sir!"

"Very well, mister Calamy. Mr. Twoodles, set us up for another attack run."

The large destroyer-escort went into a gentle turn, taking her part in the deadly dance of the four ships viciously attacking the foolish Thanasian submarine, which dared strike at a convoy protected by His Majety's Navy. Commander Foolinson took a sip of his tea, watching his crew go about their duties with dispassionate interest.

Well, not quite dispassionate. If those triple-cursed fools from the Royal Ordnance Board had gotten pulled their britches together and installed his promised hedhehog, this party would've been over long ago. And right now they were stuck dropping obsolete weapons on this most elusive of submarines.

"Sir! Priority dispatch from Western Approaches command!", one of the midshipmen handed Foolinson a piece of paper, "They are ordering us..."

"Yes, I can read, Mr. Booblers.", Foolinson took another sip. The ship shook slightly when the charges began exploding somewhere to the destroyer's starboard aft. A second escort sped up and dropped another twenty or so on top of the U-Boot's predicted position.

"Hmmpf. I suppose they're right, we cannot dilly-dawdle here and leave the convoy without a proper escort, lest there be another Hun boot stomping around. Chop chop, back to your station, boy! Mister Twoodles, signal the rest of the escorts: All ships, return to convoy station at best speed. We shall remain here and make sure this elusive fellow can't make any more trouble for us, eh?"

Foolinson's commands were acknowledged with very proper Anglian voices. More tea was distributed, as the destroyer set up for yet another attack run. Foolinson wasn't in any particular hurry - he could easily outlast the Boot.

Very near the Davy Jones' Locker
Smell level: moderate
Sept 13, 1943
13:52 local time

Von Dokken could not believe his ears. Then again, he had to - and those were fine ears, bred to perfection through centuries of proper Thanasoid upbringing inside a proud family! So in the end, he decided to believe them after all, despite their pain and the horrible, growing ringing inside his head.

"Herr Kommandant! The destroyers are breaking off!"

A subdued cheer reverberated across the boot. Even the Koch borked with satisfaction from his galley, where he managed to somehow prepare hot, umm...coffee...to distribute amongst the dead-tired sailors.

The cheer was replaced with tense anticipation, when the sonarman said something that no submariner ever wants to hear, "Wait..."

Three sets of screws were going away, but one...he turned the hydrophone's control wheel slowly, trying to figure out where the fourth destroyer went, and then heard splashes again.

"Depth charges!!!", Von Dokken whispered again. The Kommandant merely sighed - he knew it was too much to hope for. Although the tenacity of Anglian escorts was beginning to surprise him.

"Rudder left fifteen degrees.", Kommandant Thanas said with a voice that was beginning to sound...tired. He grasped a cup of...coffee...from the Koch's assistant. The boot's hull groaned, as if the ship itself was growing tired, too.

A tense wait. En explosion, very close off the stern. And then...something suddenly thomped on the outer hull. The crew could hear the screeching of metal on metal, a loud, reverberating sound as something rolled off the foredeck and plunged below. Sailor began to cross themselves, and the entire crew manning the Zentrale pulled their heads into their shoulders. Leutnant Zwingen whimpered. von Doofenberg took a huge swig from his cleverly hidden Schnapsflask.

Only leutnant Skywalker had no idea what was going on, but he could tell that was bad.

"What was that?", he asked meekly.

"A depth charge just rolled off our deck, herr leutnant", Erich Huber explained, in that annoyingly self-important tone. The man was enjoying schooling the Bavarian with the funny name in the finer points of submarine horrors.



"Wait, doesn't it mean...", Skywalker began to ask, when a sudden explosion threw the boot's bow almost two metres upwards, making people loose their footing and bump into equipment. The young leutnant threw his hands aside in a comical manner and slammed into the attack periscope.

"Damage report!", Der Kommandant demanded, even as the Boot's single medic rushed through the Zentrale in search of casualties he could tend to.

Oberluetnant Thanas was getting really annoyed. But he had no idea just what was next in store for his boot...

B for Bastard, 22nd Naval Patrol Wing
Smell level: very low
Sept 13, 1943
14:26 local time

"Ahoy below 'ere, mates! Peacekeeper, this is B for Bastard, we see yah engagement area, aye. Set us up for the attack run!", You Anglian bastards, Flight Lieutenant Scotty McScot added in his mind.

"We are receiving you loud and clear, B for Bastard, prepare to receive your vector.", You good for nothing Haggistani idiot, midshipman Foxhuntingsworth replied.

Lieutnant McScot's maritime patrol bomber banked agressively, and within minutes was set up on the attack vector provided by the destroyer, which was maintaining ASDIC contact with the submerged U-Boot. The bomber's pilot was determined to show these fruffy Anglians how it was done. They couldn't destroy the submarine in almost four hours of depth charging - but that was to be expected. Anglians couldn't fight, after all - only Haggistan, a land where thistles grew beyond waist-heigh and men did not wear pants, grew real warriors

"Coming up left, setting up for our attack run. Stay clear or yah gonna get wet, hah!"

"We copy that", the Anglian on the other side of the radio managed to sound disdainful while maintaining a professional attitude. Somehow. McScot didn't care.



With a shudder, the bomber released its deadly cargo.

"Bombs away! Eat this, Thanasian bastards!"

The aerial depth charges sunk fast, plunging straight towards their target.

Well below
Smell level: moderate
Sept 13, 1943
14:27 local time

The blast wave made the boot shift, heaving instantly fort-five degrees to the side. Leutnant Skywalker, barely brought back to consciousness, grasped his chart table desperately, but only managed to achieve a mess. He flew off his feet, dragging a mess of charts and drawing utensils after him, and slammed into bootsman Huber and his diving valves.

A pipe fitting burst open, spraying the Zentrale with saltwater. Everyone could hear screams and calls from across the boot.

"Zwingen! Damage report!", der Kommandant barked, leaping back into the command room. apparently, Leutnant Zwingen was on the voice tube with Funkenschuster.

"Herr Kommandant!", the Chief yelled through the sounds of rushing water, "We have multiple leaks across the engine room and aft crew compartments! We have lost electrical propulsion, und der Dieselraum is flooding fast! I have ordered oberfahnrich Funkenschuster to take command of damage control efforts, and..."

"Herr Kommandant! We're sinking!", a crewman interrupted the report.

Everyone immediately turned towards the Tiefenmesser. Sure enough, the gauge was plunging rapidly, past 240 metres and towards the end of the scale.

"Chief! Get to the emaschinenraum and restart those engines! Give me all ahead flank! Skywalker, take the Chief's position! Get us away from ze hull crush depth, jawohl?

"Ze destroyer is accelerating, herr Kommandant! Depth charges in the water!"

When leutnant Skywalker took his new position next to the forward bulkhead, one thought bounced around inside his abused head.

Whatever did I do to deserve this?!

As U-1313 flooded, the Tiefenmesser's gauge continued to creep down...and down...and down...

[Simon_Jester]

Bootsman Huber stands ready by the dive valves, trying to avoid the spray of water and hoping the attack officer will save the charts and maps. Perhaps we will try to reduce our ballast a little to offset the sinking?

(This may be a stupid idea; I don't know very much about submarines IRL)

Edit: Also, mein Gott, after all this time the smell level is merely moderate?

[PeZook]

Edit: Also, mein Gott, after all this time the smell level is merely moderate?

It's only been three days. By U-Bootswaffe standards U-1313 is pretty much a fresh boot!

[FaxModem1]

The Koch noticed the water in the being poured into the sub. He grabbed a container to collect some. It was perfect. He needed salt water to season the beets.

"Noo ve-a poot zee veter veet zee beets. Zeen ve-a edd zee Thuneseeun soosege-a. Bork Bork Bork!"

[fnord]

OOC: Where's Captain Seagoon, Midshipman Bluebottle and Able Seaman Eccles?

Good to see the schnapps and the umm... coffee... have become integral parts of this LP!

IC:

Nikoff swore in an ecletic mix of Thanasian and Zenobian as he slipped through the crew to Funkenschuster, before copping a faceful of the briny deep as a pipe he was passing decided to spring a leak.

Dropping the Thanasian cursing amidst his spluttering, he looked around for a clamp to bung on the pipe that had directly assaulted him, not really worrying or caring about what the Koch was doing right now.

[Simon_Jester]

Edit: Also, mein Gott, after all this time the smell level is merely moderate?

It's only been three days. By U-Bootswaffe standards U-1313 is pretty much a fresh boot!

Good point. I fear what happens when our Boot inevitably contracts athlete's foot...

[LaCroix]

"You! Get yourself some pipe and pry this Scheiss off the batteries before they run dry!" Funkenschuster yelled at one crewman nearby while he was beating the crap out of one of dozens of broken battery connector rods. The charge had shaken most of them loose, and the resulting arcing had destroyed most of the connections and created a couple of shorts where debris had fallen atop of them.

"You!" he hissed at somebody who just finished clamping a broken pipe - "Get to the kitchen and bring me every wooden plate you can get, and every spoon, knife, and ladle you can find - we need to isolate and bridge the remaining batteries!"

"What?" he hissed when the man just stood there, paralysed by the mere thought to try and part the Koch from his tools. "It's either that or getting crushed like a walnut if we don't get power back!" he explained.

"MOVE!" he roared as the man still didn't move, but started weighting the alternatives.

[Thanas]

Well, none of that would have happened had Pezook not increased speed. We should have gone back to the previous save instead of playing this out.

I don't really think the boot can be saved now, but:

a) Increase speed to emergency and begin emergency ascent.
b) repair the batteries.
c) raise boot to 180 meters. 160 if necessary.
d) concentrate on repairing immediate flooding that is threatening to crush the boot.

If all else fails begin immediate blow ballast and get to the surface to surrender.

[PeZook]

Well, none of that would have happened had Pezook not increased speed. We should have gone back to the previous save instead of playing this out.

Bah. They would've picked you up with ASDIC anyways

[Thanas]

No, not really - not at that depth and not at 1 knots. We would have simply escaped.

[PeZook]

No, not really - not at that depth and not at 1 knots. We would have simply escaped.

At least it's exciting this way