Pest, Stenchia
Sept 10, 1943
Minutes past midnight
"ALARM!!!"
The tiny barracks attached to Pest's submarine pens suddenly saw a flurry of activity as sailors attempted to take crash dive stations that weren't there. Superior Thanasian submarines ran into the walls, each other and random furniture in the darkness. Someone was yelling commands about unlocking main vents and diving planes and securing the hatches.
Stabsbootsman Neuss tried to get everyone to the bow, which resulted in a massive human pileup next to the wash basins, just as they were being manned by the dive crew.
The light flicked on, illuminating the figure of the Watch Officer, Wehrner von Shapp, as well as the total mess that the barracks had become. The WO was somewhat speechless at the sight, and really glad the kommandant wasn't there to see it.
"GET YOURSELVES TOGETHER, YOU LIMP-WRISTED BASTARDS! HERR KOMMANDANT IS ORDERING THE CREW ON THE BOOT IMMEDIATELY!", Shapp yelled at the top of his lungs, as he usually did. The crew, now aware of what was actually going on, hurried to get their belongins. The order to board the sub so late at night could only mean one thing - they were going out to sea.
Pest, Stenchia, Sub Pen 10
Sept 10, 1943
01:10 local time
"HERR KOMMANDANT ALL STATIONS ARE MANNED AND THE DECK IS CLEARED FOR DEPARTURE!"
Oberleutnant Thanas winced, as von Shapp's weapons-grade voice echoed mightily in the enclosed space of the sub pen.
"Kepp it down, there is no need to yell!"
"JAWOHL! WE'LL GIVE THEM HELL, HERR KOMMANDANT!"
"Ja, ja.", the Kommandant gave up. He knew from experience it was useless, "Keep the watch crew on the bridge"
Shapp saluted crisply, "JAWOHL! AHEAD ONE THIRD!"
Despite the Kommandant's protests, Shapp immediately relayed the order below, and the sub pen filled up with the sound of starting diesel engines. The machine telegraph rang, and the entire sub lurched ahead.
At the Kommandant's will or not, U-1313 was on her way. Her first, and possibly last, patrol has begun!
The night was crisp and sharp, with only an intermediate cloud cover, but almost no moon. The calm seas were of course a problem, making it easier for airplanes to spot any boots stomping on the face of the Bay Of Biscuits (forever), but it was an acceptable tradeoff - weather prognosis for the next days was pretty much the same, but the moon would be getting progressively larger.
Harbor traffic was rather light. They passed Pest's huge floating drydock, and entered the main port channel, under escort from a well-armed Flakboot just in case some wandering Murcan airpilot would try to strike U-1313 as it departer - while that was an insane and suicidal thing to do, Murcans were known to undertake such attempts in an effort to prove their manliness to their fellow pilots.
Having ensured the difficult maneuvering was done, the kommandant went below, to the control center, to discuss the route with the navigator.
Oberfahnrich von Doffenberg jumped as the Kommandant approached him, and scattered his carefully sharpened pencils.
"Ah! Herr Kommandant! Excuse me, I was startled. I am working on our course, ja? It is hard work!"
"What? We have already plotted a preliminary route on land!", kommandant Thanas said angrily, "Vat is ze problem?"
"Ah, it's ze...you see, ze boat is shaking and ze charts, zey look different in this light, but ah...I think I managed, ja! See!"
Herr Kommandant looked at the plotted course. It took one glance to ascertain it, but all his willpower not to slam the navigator's head into something heavy and metallic nearby.
"You spent the last two hours plotting the simplest course possible, and this is what you come up with?", he chose to say instead. The icy tone made the Bavarian with the weird name, whose station was right next to the chart table, shrivel inside. A ham dangling under the ceiling flash-froze, too.
"Uh...is zere something wrong with it?"
"Herr Doofenberg, I don't need a useless navigator, and if this is a joke, then I do not care for it. Either way, I want a proper course plotted in funfzig minuten, or you will find yourself overboard!"
Doofenberg shivered and whimpered, wondering what was up with his plot. He did his best! It was a complicated route they were taking there!
"Funfzig minuten, herr Doofenberg!"
The kommandant angrily shoved the chart into the navigator's hands and turned to the chief engineer, opening his mouth for a report. But he didn't get it - instead, the voice tube relayed von Shapp's panicked voice.
"HARD TO PORT!!!"
The crewmenshen carried it out without thinking, and the boat lurched to the side despite the calm seas. Despite that, Oblt. Thanas raced to the flying bridge to see what was going on. Before he even got there, he heard von Shapp angrily berating a watchman.
"THAT WAS CLOSE! WHY DIDN'T YOU REPORT SEEING HIM, SAILOR?!"
"But...I...I did!"
"I DIDN'T HEAR YOU! WHERE DO YOU THINK WE ARE, AUNT HILDA'S TEA PARTY?! THIS IS A WARSHIP! CONTACTS, ESPECIALLY ON A COLLISION COURSE, ARE TO BE REPORTED LOUDLY AND CLEARLY!"
"I..."
"SHUT UP! YOU JUST GOT YOURSELVES DOUBLE SHIFTS IN DER DIESELRAUM FOR THE NEXT WEEK!"
Thanas could see a small cargo freighter passing U-1313, awfully close, to starboard.
That...is going to be a long patrol, thought the Kommandant. After all, they almost died already, yet they were barely even out of port...
Position BF42
Smell level: low
Sept 11, 1943
14:10 local time
The next two days went by without incident. The sea remained calm and thankfully, airplane patrols over the Bay Of Biscuit seemed to avoid U-1313. That didn't mean the
boat was calm, though.
It didn't take more than a day out on sea before another of Obefahnrich Funkenschuste's electrical shenanigans led to Der Arishkoch's accidental electrocution. The resulting vengeance attempt led to casualties amongst three hams and a wooden document closet, before the crew managed to restrain the Koch and lock him back inside the galley.
This seemed enough to ease the situation, although flying cooking pots remained a problem for anyone passing near the galley - which meant everyone, as the only toilet suitable for use was in the aft sections, and obviously someone had to pick up and distribute the meals.
By September 11, the boat was at least off the continental shelf, and since herr Kommandant's threats towards the navigator had finally made his work reasonably accurate, it was decided that a test dive was in order.
As everyone prepared for the patrol's first deep dive, however, a radio message came in from a scout airplane, dated from 40 minutes ago.
Enemy task force spotted. One carrier one battleship with escorts, heading E at medium speed, position AM87.
A glance at the charts, marked with a great many erasermarks, revealed that the reported position of the task force was about 516 kilometres to the north. It was possible to attempt an intercept, if von Doofenberg's calculations were precise.
A decision needed to be made: should U-1313 attempt to intercept the enemy task force?
:smug:
