Drakafic:The Caribbean Beat

MKSheppard · Post by **MKSheppard** » 2004-08-21 01:27am

Yorktown-class Carrier, Circa 1940, in MS-1 Scheme:

Post by **Sea Skimmer** » 2004-08-21 07:20am

Looks like the USN's "Pile It On" Top heaviness is getting a head start.

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-08-23 01:12am

Sea Skimmer wrote:Looks like the USN's "Pile It On" Top heaviness is getting a head start.

Funny you should mention that. Reason why we've been in port for so long is because we had SHF installed. This means that we had a few dozen more tons of crap put on the top of the ship, and the class is already top-heavy.

So we went underway last week and did full engine runs and Breckenridges ( trying to run away from Torps) . This meant that us CTs spent the time in the OPS office on those rolling chairs holding "Breckenridge races". (OPS office is right below the bridge)

Good times, good times.

Post by **Sea Skimmer** » 2004-08-23 03:05am

Lonestar wrote:
Funny you should mention that. Reason why we've been in port for so long is because we had SHF installed. This means that we had a few dozen more tons of crap put on the top of the ship, and the class is already top-heavy.

Practically everything the USN has built since the end of WW1 has been top heavy. But in WW2 it set some new standards. For example Cleveland class light cruisers where simply at the limit from the start. By the end of the production run they where being launched with hundreds of tons of permanent ballets already onboard to help balance all the extra AAA and radar gear. If you've ever seen a USN cruiser or battleship with the backs of its 5 inch turrets removed in a picture from WW2, its because they had to take them off to compensate for other topweight.

So we went underway last week and did full engine runs and Breckenridges ( trying to run away from Torps) . This meant that us CTs spent the time in the OPS office on those rolling chairs holding "Breckenridge races". (OPS office is right below the bridge)

Good times, good times.

Something I noticed in Morison's history of the USN in WW2, concerning the Kwajalein invasion that you might enjoy.

-Both Franks and Sand Francisco were taken under fire by heavy guns. These were quickly silenced but not before the cruiser had received several hits. One penetrated the officer' "head" but (as reported by that ship) "appropriately did not explode, there being no officers present."-

MKSheppard · Post by **MKSheppard** » 2004-08-24 12:00am

Gettysburg CVBs as planned

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-08-29 12:45am

Part Seven: The Dixie Chicken

[Houston, 12 August 1940]

The Movie projector flickered to life and the newsreel started. The words BLOODBATH IN GROZNY filled the screen, then a panoramic shot of a devastated city. Marching through the ruins, towards faint, flickering lights on the horizon were several companies of the the Red Army. The narrator's voice came over the din of explosions. Gillis wondered if the sounds were real or added in.

"After finally seizing Tbilis, the dastardly Domination forces rushed northeast in the quickest advance since the early days of the war. Local and Red Army Forces stopped cold the Draka advance south of the regional capital of Grozny, and the Draka, being the sore losers that they are, responded by launching a bombing raid on the city using incenderary devices, paying no heed to the thousands of civilians still there. Russian Officials report the civilian deathtoll at 13,000, and growing."

BATTLE FOR PATAGONIA

Next came film of what looked ot be a depressingly cold and wet place, even more so than Russia. A battered, elderly tank went rattling by. It looked as if the 5 miles per hour or so it was doing was as fast as it was going to get.

"Argentinian forces, with Draka "advisors" continue to drive into the Chilean half of the Patagonian plain at the bottom of the World. The Chileans, dispite having elderly and outmoded equipment, are putting up a valient struggle against the Draka puppets. Reports from refuges indicate atrocities are being commited by the advancing troops, and the Chilean armed forces have admitted they may not be able hold the Punta Arenas Pocket much longer.

"The American and Braslian Governments have condemned the Argentinian invasion, and issued embargos on Argentina. Secretary of State Cordell Hull announced during a Press conference on the 10th that some 400 surplussed M1 Hallecks were being sold to Chile at 'dirt cheap' prices as part of an aid package. It is hoped the tanks will help offset Argentinian superioty in numbers.

Ensign Keith sat down next to Gillis, and whispered "Mike, I'm bored out of my skull, let's go get drunk." Gillis nodded, and nudged Ensign Ammon Magnusson, a big, burley Mormon who entered V-7 from BYU. Magnusson grunted.

"Ammon, we're getting drunk, let's go."

Ammon waved them away and fell back asleep. Gillis and Keith got up and left the theater, steeping outside into the humid Texas evening. Both put on their combo-caps almost at the same time. Keith looked around downtown Houston with distaste, and the look was visible on his face. Gillis, having been born and raised in Tampa, saw it in the different light than the Long Island WASP.

"Where to?"

Keith glanced around again, and pointed down the street.

"That way."

"Why, there's a cheap bar down there?"

"No, just Texas Woman's College-Houston Campus"

"Now you're talking."

The two made their way northwest, finally stopping at a club called the "Dixie Chicken". One step inside, and Gillis knew they'd hit the right place.

"Navy Nurses...allllll-right." Keith nodded. He had a girl back in NYC, but he was a big believer in the 'it isn't cheating if you aren't in the same timezone' philosophy. The colored host standing behind the little podium looked up.

"Can I help yuh Sirs?"

"uh....I think just the Bar."

"Bar's over there Sirs." The Colored man went back to reading whatever it was he was reading.

"Thanks, I wouldn't have noticed it otherwise." Keith muttered as the two made their way to the bar. Gillis sat down and ordred a local brew ("Alamo Beer...brewed at the headwaters of the Brazos"), while Keith ordred some fruity fu-fu thing that got him a strange look from the bartender. Keith asked for another one, which got him another strange look.

"Fine! A Margarita!" The bartender then made the drink in less than a minute, all while Gillis was doing his best to hold back laughter. Several cute females had been watching the byplay with mild amusement, and poor Keith's ears were now as red as apples.

"Haven't been outside of New York much, huh Willie?"

"I can't help it if everyone South of the Mason-Dixon line is a Barbarian." Keith looked around the room, then spied a piano. "At least there is one instrument of civilization in these strange lands." He got up and walked over to piano. Within seconds he was busting out tunes that attracted women in droves around him. Gillis sighed and turned around on his bar stool, coming face to face with an attractive Navy nurse (Lt.j.g.) with strawberry blonde hair. He jumped with a start, and she grinned.

"Your friend has quite a talent."

Figures she'd be interested in Keith. Pudgy little Princeton boy just emits the phermones.

"Yeah...he use to play piano in clubs before he joined the Navy."

"Really? And what did you do before you signed on? My names Amanda Jones, by the way."

"Uh, I was a..." Gillis cleared his throat, "Actually, besides working in my Father's store this is my first job. My degree was in economics at William and Mary. Ma'am." He added, she was still a paygrade over him. Jones raised her eyebrow.

"So, should I just call you Ensign, or what?"

"Oh...sorry. My name is Mike Gillis. Assistant 1st Lieutenant on the Pensacola, Ma'am" Gillis stopped, the image of the loose lips sink ships poster appeared in his mind.

Jones laughed and said "Mike, just call me Amanda. Are you always this uptight?"

[Outside the Dixie Chicken]

The Two men were parked in the battered Ford across the street.

"Are you sure it's him?

"Yes I'm sure. I'd recognize that Gringo's face from anywhere. I got the newspaper article if you want..."

"I hear you Rick. If he's the one who help catch Miggy, then he's the one who deserves this." Sanchez flipped the safety off his .45.

[The Dixie Chicken]

The two men entered, and the colored host looked up. "Can I help yuh si..." He's eyes glanced at the barely visible concealed handguns. The Host made a hand gesture, and a bouncer who had managed to blend into the scenery stepped forward.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you boys to..."

BAM!

Oh, shit! Gillis knocked Jones on the floor. Keith was doing the same with the ladies nearby him, then he took his own advice. The Bartender produced a shotgun and fired at the two men, giving one a glancing blow, while the other cursed and shot the man between the eyes. Gillis looked at the two men...they looked familiar.

The one who had recieved the glancing shotgun shell spotted Gillis and snarled. "There's the fucker who caught Miggy!"

Miggy? Miguel? Wasn't the skipper of the fishing boat named Miguel some...oh shit. Slowly, he stood up.

"Look, No one wants trouble." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keith slowly crawling forward, hiding between the tables.

"Trouble? Jefe, you're in it no matter what. Shoulda thought about that before you helped put our brother in one of Hoover's slammers." The man raised his .45...

...and Keith jumped on the injured mans back, knocking his .45 away. The talker whipped around and aimed at Keith, giving Gillis the opening to lay a Haymaker on him. The man staggered while Keith and the other fellow were locked in a deathgrip. Talker took a step forward and pistol-whipped Gillis across the jaw. He could feel some teeth go loose. Gillis instinctively brought up his hand to his jaw. Talker raised his Gun again...

BAM!

Talker looked surprised, then glanced down at the rather large exit wound forming. he fell to the floor. Standing behind him was Ensign Magnusson, holding the gun Keith had knocked away.

"I've told you, no good can come from drinking alcohol."

"Rick! You've killed Rick you Bas..." the other man shut up quick when Magnusson raised the gun to his face.

Jones jumped up and put her hands on Gillis' face. "Jesus, let me look at that...you're going to have to get to the Dentist, quick. I'll take you. " She grabbed his hand and started to pull him towards the door.

Magnusson scowled. "He should wait until the police show up." Jones stopped, and nodded. "We need to get some milk..." There was already another Navy Nurse behind the bar, and of course there was milk there for White Russians (a beverage that had grown in popularity since the Draka invasion started).

Keith had forced the other man to the flor, and was holding his arm and wrist at a double 90 degrees.

"Ammon, I swear I'll never make fun of Mormons again. How'd you find us?"

"Don't make promises you can't keep. As for finding you...all I had to do was ask myself where a bunch of devient Gentile sailors would go."

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-09-01 11:04pm

Part Eight: Rabat

[Rabat, Former Kingdom of Morocco 15 August 1940]

The Rabat naval base had been built towards the end of the Great War, with an eye towards becoming a major Submarine Base vice a surface base. In fact, there were few naval vessels of any sort visible in the harbor, just a few gunboats (the major Northern surface base was in Algiers). In fact, the harbor looked altogether abandoned. At least, it would have if not for the massive concrete structures lining it.

Massive was the only word to describe them. Construction had began in the ‘20s, and had continued throughout the lean years of the ‘30s until today. The Submarine pens were among the most hardened shelters in the world. Great, sprawling artificial caves that protected dozens of submarines, the great equalizer the Domination navy possessed.

The other powers knew it, too. During the transit to Rabat, the Coelacanth had started to encounter over nations’ naval vessels and aircraft more and more. In fact, they had nearly collided with what they now believed was a British submarine, less than a hundred kilometers from Rabat. Vandevender had been surprised that a neutral power would be so audacious towards the Domination, and commented so during his debrief with the 3rd Submarine Squadron CO, Senior Merarch Stearns. Stearns had merely grunted.

“Yes…the Tommies have been getting bold of late. They’ve also been using their small airstrip out of Gibraltar to scout the North African coast, even entering our airspace and having over flights of our Bases in Algeria… we’re very disturbed about that. The buggers also manage to evade and leave our airspace before we can shoot them down, too.” Stearns lit a cigar. “You did good work, Cohotorach. Those half-breed Bushmen raised more Hell than we thought they would. Command believes the success of the operation is due in no small part to you.” Stearns paused, then indicated Vandevender should sit down. He opened up a personnel file. “You know, almost every single one of your FITREPs say you’re an outstanding officer, but lack qualities befitting a citizen of the Domination. For instance…it says here you’re a devout Presbytarian. This true?”

Vandevender stared straight ahead. “Yes, Senior Merarch.”

“Hmm…you know, it isn’t against the law per se to be a Christian, but that faith is really one the serfs would follow. Is that why,” he turned a page, “ you’re apparently …soft on serfs?”

“ They may be animals, Sir, but if I can get them to work without beating them, I do so.”

“Hmm…” Stearns took a long drag on his cigar. “Heard an interesting story from our Attaché in Bogotá. Junior Chilliarch Booth was in the class ahead of me at the War College. He says for a while it looked as if our Liaison was going to sell us out. Seems Colonel Jimenez met an unfortunate accident before anything was put down on paper, though.”

Stearns started to drum his fingers. “If life was fair, Vandevender, you’d be sitting in my desk right now. You’ve had the misfortune in having a run of superiors who mistake your beliefs and treatment of serfs as softness. I, however, am not encumbered by such assumptions. Stand before me at attention.” Vandevender popped to.

“Cohortarch Vandevender, you are hereby ordered to report to the Naval War College in Johannesburg. Upon successful completion of the Battle line CO Course, you will be promoted in Pay grade to junior Merarch and be given your new command. Congratulations, Vandevender.” Stearns held out his hand., Vandevender shook it. “Don’t make an ass out of me, Vandevender.”

“I won’t, Sir.” Vandevender never grinned, but he came periliously close to smiling at that moment.

MKSheppard · Post by **MKSheppard** » 2004-09-01 11:28pm

Pretty good chapter.

*hums bars of Das Boot theme song*

that's what I thought when i read the part about the submarine
pens

Post by **The Yosemite Bear** » 2004-09-02 12:55am

remembe4r the closing sceen of Das Boot

bombs can penetrate sub pens quite well

particlarly british "Tall Boys"

Post by **RogueIce** » 2004-09-12 01:28am

Ohhh, I got punched. Owie.

Ah well. Maybe that Nurse will, uh, "assist" me in my recovery?

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-09-28 01:22am

Part Nine: Vladimir

[Canteen, Galveston Naval Base, 26 september 1940]

Gillis snarled and lowered the clipboard that had the store's inventory secured to it. I'm a Goddamn CPA and I'm doing this nickel and dime shit. If my Father saw me counting O.Henry bars he would laugh his ass off. And he would be right to. Keith was over on the Base's CO's staff, doing comms work, and Magnusson was working at the engineering shore support for the vessels moored at the base. It had been a a mere week since the paperwork for the court martial finally started moving, and some Jackass had came to the brillant conclusion that the three j.o.'s needed to be taken off the Pensacola and seperated pending the conclusion of the trial. Everyone expected them to get off, but until then...

--------------------

One week prior...

"...Off the ship?"

"Only until the court martial is over, which will be before we leave the yards." Cmdr. Peuterschmit stubbed out his cigar. " Captain will be back from leave in a few weeks, and he wants us to cooperate with the JAG."

Gillis moved his lips, but no words came out. Finally; " Where am I going?"

Peuterschmit cleared his throat. "The canteen over at the base."

"What? Sir...I'm not a supply officer."

"Well, It's the only TAD post available on short notice. Like I said, you won't be there long."

"Sir, ...I'm not a supply officer."

"You know, neither Keith or Magnusson bitched about this."

"That's because Keith is an Honorable little Princton Boy and Magnusson is being a good Mormon. Besides, they already told me they aren't going off to audit freakin' Coke bottles."

"Mike, I've never heard more compelling words. I am moved to tears. Now adapt and overcome."
----------------------------------------------------

[Costa Rica]

Major Martinka got out from under the driving rain and entered the Regimental command tent. Colonel Rudder was waiting for him, leaning over the table that had a map of the Marine positions south of the Mountain. On the otherside, the Army, at last, had closed in from the North. The rebels had collopsed following a sudden stop of arms from the Draka. Martinka had a sneaking suspicion the Navy's capture of that trawler had convinced the Snakes to move their area of operations from the Caribbean to Argentina.

A major victory seemed to be in the air. At least, if this fucking hurricane would let up. Vladimir had came tearing through the Carribbean, slamming into Central America with a force rivaled only by the Galveston hurricane of 1900. Dozens of villages and more than a few cities had been devestated. The end result was that the rebels were now confined to their mountain, and the air superiority of the Americans was grounded.

But not the Artillary batteries encircling the mountain. For two days now there had been a continous, if sporadic bombardment of the mountain.

"Major? Are your Spotters ready?"

"Yes Sir. We can sneak over the lines within the Hour. I only hope those 'Ranger' yahoos the army has are up to snuff. Figure we can make gaps in the line big enough for the rest to pour through."

Rudder nodded. "That's all I wanted to know. I'll called Colonel Taylor and tell him we're moving. Go to it."
-------------------------

Gillis sighed and glanced away from the clipboard to the Newspaper.

REBEL STRONGHOLD FALLS IN COSTA RICA DURING HURRICANE

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-09-28 01:23am

Yeah I know, not my best. I was tired and bitter.

Post by **Steve** » 2004-09-28 01:55am

You also forgot that they didn't start naming hurricanes until the 1950s, and they only used female names up until the 1970s.

MKSheppard · Post by **MKSheppard** » 2004-09-28 02:12am

Steve wrote:You also forgot that they didn't start naming hurricanes until the 1950s, and they only used female names up until the 1970s.

This is an alternate verse, so begone evil Floridans!

phongn · Post by **phongn** » 2004-09-28 09:09am

For a short span they used the phonetic alphabet (Able-Baker, etc.) as well

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-09-28 06:41pm

MKSheppard wrote:
This is an alternate verse, so begone evil Floridans!

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Post by **RogueIce** » 2004-09-29 06:14pm

Lonestar wrote:
MKSheppard wrote:
This is an alternate verse, so begone evil Floridans!

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Speaking of which...

SUPPLY?!

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-09-29 09:31pm

We all know that's where you're going in real life. We're discussing it in the chat right now.

Typhonis 1 · Post by **Typhonis 1** » 2004-09-30 02:31am

chat???? what chat?

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-09-30 10:43pm

Typhonis 1 wrote:chat???? what chat?

The one for sd.net, silly.

Ice · Post by **Ice** » 2004-10-01 07:29am

Lonestar wrote:We all know that's where you're going in real life. We're discussing it in the chat right now.

I am going to have to make you pay dearly for this. Don't make me write a fanfic, Boatswain's Mate Lonestar...

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-10-22 11:22pm

Part Ten: Counterstrike

[Chilean General Staff, Santiago 12 October 1940]

President Ibáñez paced around the map room like a caged big cat. Officers hurried around him, this way and that, ignoring the Head of State who had started out as a strong leader and ended up controlled by the socialists. The former Generalissmo was much disliked by the General Staff.

But not as much as the War Minister. The young, naive, arrogrant and pompous young doctor from Valparaiso. Allende had spearheaded the movement to defang the Chilean military during the past ten years. It had taken an invasion to get him to agree to boosting funds, and even then he had chosen the "beg aid off of the United States" route rather than spending the monies needed.

Your time will come, Allende Major General Luis O'Brien thought. His aide, a young Lieutenant recently arrived from the "Chacabuco" regiment, shared the same dim view of him.

"Problem, General?" O'Brien turned at the now-familiar voice. Colonel David Eisenhauer of the United States Army was standing there. He had been tasked with the job of being the liason between the two militaries, specifically in the realm of direct material aid. The man had a knack, if nothing else, for smoothing out difficulties when they arose.

"Nothing Colonel....just hoping those AirCobras and M-1 Halleck tanks you gave us are enough."

"Sir, it's going to take time to get the Stuarts here in large numbers. The National Guard doesn't want to give them up."

"I don't blame you Colonel. You and your staff have been nothing but helpful. Especially that Major Doolittle, his idea of stripping our DC-3s and using them to bomb Buenos Aires was genius." At that, O'Brien grinned. The Raid, using extensively modified DC-3s, had done little actual damage to the city. But it had caused the Argentinian government to pull fighters away from the front home, on the off chance more slow, doddering, and unescorted cargo planes carrying bombs attacked again. It had bought Chile that most precious resource of all, time.

O'Brien's aide walked up. "Sir, we just got a call from Lt. General Amadiz. He reports the Argentian Third Army is in full retreat from Villa O'Higgins. He further reports that there is little contest of the air, our raids on the airfields appear to have totally destroyed the local Argentino airforce."

Cheers erupted in the Map room. Even Allende allowed himself a pleased look. O'Brien nodded to his aide. "Thank you Augusto." He then walked over to Allende. "You look pleased, Minister."

"Oh yes. I'm as anxious to remove these bandits from our soil as you are General, no matter what you might think. As soon as they have been ejected, we can reach a settlement with them."

O'Brien stared. "Settlement?"

"Of course General. You didn't think WE would invade THEM after we had removed them, did you? No need to bring death to the Workers of Argentina, it is the government thta is corrupt, not them." Allende walked away, either not noticing or not caring at the look of horror on O'Brien's face. His aide walked over, as aides do.

"Problem, sir?

"Just Socialists. Always remember Augusto, that Socialists are the scourge of this country."

darthdavid · Post by **darthdavid** » 2004-10-23 03:31pm

more execellent work.

Lonestar · Post by **Lonestar** » 2004-11-24 07:54pm

Part 11

[USS Pensacola, Lonestar SB&SW, 18 Novermber 1940]

They had recieved the message 3 weeks ago, the order to cease all work not 60% or more done, and prepare to return to sea by the 20th of November. No one was surprised, as the month previous there had been a stunning uptick of Russian merchant traffic sunk off the East Coast and, more disturbingly, in the Gulf of Mexico. Snake submarines had been spotted off the new offshore oil terminals (a technique perfected by engineers at Mexico City Polytech) that had been constructed to secure America's petroleum reserves. Mere "Neutrality Patrols" were now sorely lacking, and a convoy system was finally being organized.

And so, the Pensacola was out of drydock and pierside, the last scurrying of yardworkers, trying to complete the install of the new communications gear and Fire-control radar. The most unusual was a new device that was kept locked up in a secured compartment. Specialists had been assigned to the ship, gunnersmates who happen to have degrees in electrical engineering. The rumors flew across the ship, but the only hint of it's use was it's name.

It was called the Mark 1A ballistic computer.

----------------------

"So, Secret Materials Custodian, care to shed any light on what we got in the shed aft of the pilot house?"

"Mike, did you just try to make a funny?" Keith paused to chew his chicken. "And besides, you know the answer to that."

" ' None of your Goddamn buisness?' "

Magnusson looked over at Gillis, then Keith.

"Mike, do you seriously not know what a computer is?"

"Why would he? I didn't until it was brought onboard."

"I know you wouldn't... you're a useless Literature major. Mike, a computer is a machine that can perform lots of mathematical equations at once, much better than a slide rule, say. You know what Ballistics are, so..."

"We talking about stuff we shouldn't?" Came a voice from the wardroom. The three j.o.s stood up to attention. Fox smiled and said " At ease. I'm just trying to find some juice." He walked over to the pitcher and poured himself a cup. It was syrupy. Fox smacked his lips and said "Just like Momma use to make. I'm glad to see we have at least one officer in the wardroom who's reading habits extend a bit further than Superman or Esquire." Keith and Gillis glanced at Magnusson, who was resolutely staring through the bulkhead.

" You're a good officer Magnusson, but you talk too much. Remember, loose lips sink ships."

Gillis was suddenly overcome by a coughing fit, while Keith looked as if he was studying the intricacies of the baked chicken in front of him. Fox smiled again.

"That was a joke, Magnusson. I don't think the Navy is particularly concerned about people knowing what it does, just so they don't know how it does it. Still, from now on, let the other guys figure it out. Bridge time is at 0800 tomorrow Gillis."

Fox turned and left the wardroom.

The three j.o.s looked at each other. Gillis spoke first.

" Looks like we are going on the convoy tomorrow. Damn! There's over fifty Russian Tankers sitting in Galveston Bay. Two Light crusiers and 13 DEs. And we get to sheperd them all the way to Miami. Let me ask you this, how the Hell are we suppose to protect 52 tankers with 13 DEs, 2 CLs, and one CA? Hmmph! I better call Amanda and tell her tomorrow's date is off. Damn!" Gillis got up and stormed out.

Keith glanced over at Magnusson.

"So, I'm a' Useless Lit Major'?"

"Not to mention queer as a 3 dollar bill. I need to go over the underway check off list. See you tomorrow."

MKSheppard · Post by **MKSheppard** » 2004-11-24 10:12pm

Lonestar wrote:Damn! There's over fifty Russian Tankers sitting in Galveston Bay.

Thats' a fuckload of oil