NationStates Jolt Archive

Damn this fog....
Capt. Gunther Hartgen lowered his spyglass. From the pitching bridge of the raider Hollandorff, little was visable through the fog that had settled over the North Sea like early twilight. Under other conditions, a captain would have been pleased for such unfavorable conditions. Two weeks earlier, when the Hollandorff had narrowly avoided contact with a British carrier group, for example. But today, with his ship on the prowl for the lightly defended merchant traffic running between Britain and Finland, Hartgen cursed the fog. It would not make his job any easier...
Ever since the Hollandorff had sailed from her home port, almost a month before, she'd had little good fortune. An engine failure two days out of Hamburg had delayed her sortie untill repairs could be made. Then there had been the horrifying moment where they had mistakenly identified a German merchant vessel as a British auxiliary cruiser, and had opened fire. God had certainly smiled on the Schildkröte that day; Hollandorff's shells fell far short of the merchantman, and frantic signals had staved off another salvo. A near miss with the British carrier Indominable and her escorts had pushed the already strained crew to the edge; they would have stood little chance against such a force. Dark of night had covered the Hollandorff from the British lookouts; there had been no sight of any ships since, friend or foe. For two long weeks, the crew of the raider searched for the convoys they knew sailed to England, carrying precious iron ore to fuel the British war effort. Every ship that arrived in port unchallenged meant another tank, or fighter, or destroyer to harass German interests. Capt. Hartgen and his crew were determined to make their mark in this war, but opportunity had not yet shown itself, and they were running low on fuel.
A junior officer approached the captain, a radio transcript in hand. Hartgen took it, reading quickly. After a moment, he set the telegram aside and strode to the charts. He worked with the navigator for a few minutes, then issued new orders to the helm; a new course, and full speed ahead.
The transcript lay on the map table...
XXU-215XXConvoy spotted AK54XXIdentified 12 merchant, 2 destroyersXX

Marianne Burton stood at the rail of the Liberty, gazing out into the foggy sea. She had been so nervous about her journey back to England, but now it was hard to remember why. She and her family had lived in Finland, where her father had served as ambassador for the King. With the onset of the war, and the Russian attack, her father had been called back to London; it would be the first time Marianne had seen England in almost six years. The slender, red-headed girl had grown into a beautiful woman in those six years; many Finnish boys had been sad to see her go.
The fog on the water was oddly soothing to her, although she could not say why. She had heard the sailors talking of the threat of submarines in the North Sea, and how they preyed on ships unseen in bad weather. She supposed the risk was real enough, but it seemed far away somehow. She didn't feel afraid, like so many of the other passengers onboard obviously did. The war seemed so distant now that they were at sea.
Marianne wondered what life would be like in London, what with the war and all. It had been so long since she'd left England, she could barely remember life there. Her sister Polly had chattered on most of the day and night about how exciting it was, how terribly exciting. Polly had been born in Finland; the whole trip was a grand adventure for her, seeing the places her Daddy had told her stories of. After two days of listening to her, Marianne had decided that if she couldn't escape her sister's endless questions and silly games, she may very well go mad. Her efforts had brought her here, and she was finally alone. But not for long... she thought.
Marianne gazed out into the fog, wondering about what the future had in store for her...

On the bow of the American destroyer USS Sterling:

Sir I see something in the water
What is it?
Im not sure sir
Find out
Sir it just launched a torpedo!
Man Battle Stations!
Drop the depth Charges!
Yes Sir
BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sir the HMS Oxford is hit!
Call fo back up!Launch the flares!
Yes Sir!
Inform the Ranger.

On the bow of the American destroyer USS Sterling:

Sir I see something in the water
What is it?
Im not sure sir
Find out
Sir it just launched a torpedo!
Man Battle Stations!
Drop the depth Charges!
Yes Sir
BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sir the HMS Oxford is hit!
Call fo back up!Launch the flares!
Yes Sir!
Inform the Ranger.
OOC-One might be tempted to ask what an American destroyer is doing east of Britain...

OOC-One might be tempted to ask what an American destroyer is doing east of Britain...

ooc: I'd do it, but I wouldn't want West Scotland to swear at me again. :roll:

Great story, by the way. I already feel sorry for Marianne.

The Hollandorff sailed on throught the fog, her lookouts straining to sight anything through the murky weather. While no word had yet passed down from the bridge regarding the situation, it was not hard for the crew to guess what had triggered the sudden change onboard. Surely, some tempting prize had been brought to the captain's attention; there were so many U-boats at sea you could toss a stone overboard and stand a good chance of striking one. For all the U-boats advantages, it was affected by poor weather more than a ship like the Hollandorff, due to its small size and lack of radar. When visability was this poor, it was common for the U-boat to switch from a hunting vessel to a spotter for the Deutschland class raiders that prowled the shipping lanes; crews sometimes refered to the little craft as "schweißhunde" (bloodhounds). Since the Hollandorff was the only raider east of Britain, she received many reports of merchant vessels either too fast or too heavily guarded for the U-boat captains to attack.
Capt. Hartgen stood by the chart, trying to plot the most likely course of the convoy U-215 was tracking. Clearly, the British were getting bolder, if they ran a convoy of 12 ships with only two escorts. Hartgen knew that there could be more escorts that the fog had hidden from the U-boat, but he could not help but feel that his fortunes had changed. Today he thought, the British learn that the North Sea is not safe for them.

More to come later, but I need sleepy... :lol:

Little Polly Burton was having the most grand adventure. Ever since her family had boarded the Liberty, she had experienced more than in all the previous years she had been alive. There were so many interesting people aboard; wealthy bankers and businessmen, as well as laborers and refugees. There was even a Gypsy family, who had delighted her with their colorful clothes and theatrics. The fact that she had to share a cramped cabin with her sister had not dampened her spirits, and she seemed to be immune to the seasickness that had crippled her father. Today's fog had spoiled her hopes of spotting any whales; the sailors had all told her that they were common this time of year. So instead, Polly had spent most of the day exploring the passenger liner, and had discovered all sorts of nooks and crannies to hide herself away and play her favorite game, "Pirates and Dames". At the moment, she was hidden away in the stern of the boat, where the dashing Captain Jack Harper was fighting the evil Blackbeard to save his true love, Polly. She sighed; why couldn't pirates duel to the death over her?

Captain Hartgen scanned the seas ahead of the Hollandorff with his binoculars, looking for any sign of the ships he new must be close by. According to the last report from U-215, the ships it was following should be somewhere in this area. All the fog was making the radar (the usefulness of which Capt. Hartgen had yet to be convinced of) largely ineffective. With visability at just under a mile, the British Home Fleet could sail by without being discovered.
"Slow to ten knots, and set the rudder for twenty degrees left. Tell the men to keep a sharp eye out for anything they can see."
The Hollandorff began circling, looking for the convoy Capt. Hartgen knew must be close by. Although attacking a convoy in weather like this was one of the last things he was looking forward to, the prospect of such a tempting and lightly guarded prize escaping was unacceptable.

Marianne leaned against the rail of the Liberty, enjoying the feel of the sea breeze on her face. Thoughts of England and the life that awaited her began to creep into her head again. She imagined herself walking the streets of London, of seeing the sights she had heard her mother talk about when she was growing up. She wondered what her school would be like, and what the students would be like. Soon enough, she would know...
Marianne opened her eyes. It seemed like the wind was picking up, and the mist was clearing. Marianne looked eagerly foreward, waiting to see what the breaking weather would reveal.
The lifting fog revealed only a German warship, with her guns trained on the Liberty.

"British vessel, off the port side!"
The battle alarm sounded aboard the Hollandorff, and her main battery locked onto the ship the fog had parted to reveal. Capt. Hartgen peered through his spyglass, wondering what British ship would be sailing alone in the North Sea now. He saw no guns or armaments on deck, but he knew better than to assume the ship was harmless. Many British merchantmen and passenger ships had been converted to auxilliary cruisers with the onset of war, trading cargo and passengers for guns and torpedoes. He wasn't afraid of any damage that the cruiser might be able to inflict on the Hollandorff; with her thicker armor and heavier guns, any battle would be suicidal on the part of the British. He was, however, concerned that his opponent might radio for assistance, and that British fleet units would come to her aide. Capt. Hartgen was reluctant to fire on a vessel that may or may not be armed, but he had no intention of sacrificing his crew if she did make a call for help.
"Stand by on the forward turret. Helm, ahead slow; bring us abeam of them. Signal for the captain to halt and prepare to be boarded." The captain spoke with calm and confidence, and his subordinates acted in like. With any luck he thought, this will end without bloodshed.

Below deck, Polly's game of "Pirates and Dames" was reaching the final climax; Blackbeard was making Jack Harper and the lovely Polly walk the plank. How ever were Jack and Polly to get out of this?
Polly cocked her head to the side; was that thunder? She had heard the sailors stories of great storms at sea, and how they claimed the lives of brave sailors. Her father would, of course, have been outraged, and for two reasons. Firstly, no proper English girl would listen to such stories with the rapt attention that Polly always had for such things; secondly, no daughter of his would associate with low-bred sailors. To men like her father, such things were out of place.
The Hollandorff's first salvo sailed high overhead; the sound that Polly had mistook for thunder was the sound of their explosion behind the Liberty. The shots from the rear turret were better, piercing the hull just above the boiler room. The resulting explosion gutted the engine room and sent fire and broken men sailing from the ship. The whole boat rocked with the force of the blow; Polly was thrown fully 15 feet across the hold. Luckily, a stack of flour sacks broke her fall nicely.
Picking herself off the floor, Polly took a moment to steady herself; it felt like the whole ship was leaning over. In truth, the Liberty was listing badly to port, the explosion in the engine room having let in tons of seawater and stopped the ship dead in the water.
Salvoes from the 11" batteries of the German raider lanced the stricken passenger ship again. The upper works were reduced to flaming wreckage, and the flooding below became increasingly worse. Polly, who had been in the process of trying to climb above deck, was thrown back down into the hold; lucky for her, because the entire stairway collapsed a moment later. The Liberty lost electricity moments later, and Polly found herself lost in the pitch black hold of the doomed ship. Trying her best to feel her way along the passage, she was frequently tripped by debris that had been thrown free during the nightmare beating the Liberty had taken. Water began to creep around her ankles, then her knees, with frightening speed. She could hear cries above her, below her; cries for mercy, or mother, or to anyone who would listen. They were the screams of doomed men trapped in a flaming iron coffin.
A sudden ray of light brought Polly to a rough gash in the hull of the Liberty. It wasn't big enough to squeeze through, but she could see and breathe without choking on the smoke filling the corridor. Polly stuck her face to the torn steel, sucking clean air like an addict. The water looked so close from here; she swore she could reach out and almost touch it. Indeed, she was not much in error; the Liberty was already riding almost 15' low in the water, and sinking fast...

Capt. Hartgen watched through his glasses as his ship ripped the Liberty apart. When his wireless operator had reported that the British passenger vessel was giving the RRR call and increasing speed, he had done the only thing he could do to save the lives of his own crew; he ordered the main batteries to fire on what was really a helpless opponent. The fact that he was sending civilians, non-combatants to their deaths weighed heavily on his heart, but his crew was far more important to him than anyone aboard the Liberty.
The captains binoculars brought the carnage aboard the British ship into clear focus. Men fought bravely to control the horrible damage dealt out by the Hollandorff's 11" guns. They were guns Capt. Hartgen had hoped would never be used in this way. Broken, bleeding forms floated in the water between the two ships; more littered the deck of the sinking British liner. And sinking she was; already her bow was beginning to rise in what would eventually end in a dive down into oblivion. How many of the passengers and crew she would take down with her he knew not; the fact that some had made it into the boats was a relief.
Within half an hour, the Liberty slipped beneath the waters of the North Sea, carrying 400 people to their graves; not one had been a member of the British navy. The Hollandorff eventually picked up 157 survivors, mostly women and children. Among them was the daughter of the British ambassador to Finland.

The deck of the Hollandorff was soon crowded with the survivors of the Liberty. They milled at the bow of the ship, unsure of what to expect. The crew of the German ship busied themselves with picking up the last few stragglers from the water and preparing to get underway; other than to ensure any wounded were cared for and basic needs were being met, they paid little mind to their new shipmates.
Marianne hunted feverishly through the crowded mass, desparately looking for anyone she new. Her mother, her father, Polly; no one had seen any of them. In her distress, she began grabbing members of the Hollandorff's crew, hoping that they had been rescued. The German sailors shook their heads when she described her family to them; apparently, none of them had seen them either. Marianne collapsed on the deck, sobbing. She had never felt so alone in all her life.

Polly came back to consciousness reluctantly; her head felt like it was full of angry, sting-crazy bees. She heard water splashing, and voices talking quietly, but she couldn't understand the words. She didn't want to open her eyes, but she badly wanted to know where she was; her last memories were of water closing up over her head, and feeling so very cold..... She shuddered, not wanting to remember what had happened.
"Well, good morning."
Polly opened her eyes to see a young man leaning over her. Behind his face, she could see the clouds breaking, revealing bright blue sky. The light was painful to her eyes, but she had never seen anything so beautful.
"How are you feeling?"
The young man felt under the line of her jaw for her pulse. It was strong; he had little doubt she would be fine. Considering she had been on death's door when they pulled her from the frigid water, that was a good sign.
Polly winced. "My head hurts.... What happened?"
"Shhh..... rest. You had quite a close call."
The German sailor folded up his jacket, sliding it under her head. Polly was already falling back asleep. Best that she rest he thought. She's suffered enough for one day.
The German lifeboat continued to search for survivors as long as they dared. With the weather clearing and the distress call sent by the Liberty, the Hollandorff was in danger of being trapped by British forces if she lingered too long. Capt. Hartgen delayed as long as he could, then gave the order to set sail. The Hollandorff set course for her home port, speeding away from the scene.

(ooc: *breathes a sigh of relief* Wow! I love this thread, but have no way to reply to it in character...yet. In the meantime, I'd just like to thank D.K. for an engaging storyline, wonderful characters, and a reminder of just who war hurts the most. All too often in this game, battles are a series of statistics traded back and forth about losses and engaged forces. It's nice to see a human face on human events. Keep up the good work, D.K., and I hope you provide a chance for me to become involved later!)

(ooc: *breathes a sigh of relief* Wow! I love this thread, but have no way to reply to it in character...yet. In the meantime, I'd just like to thank D.K. for an engaging storyline, wonderful characters, and a reminder of just who war hurts the most. All too often in this game, battles are a series of statistics traded back and forth about losses and engaged forces. It's nice to see a human face on human events. Keep up the good work, D.K., and I hope you provide a chance for me to become involved later!)

Dude, I don't care in this thread. Anyone who wants to can jump in. It's just a story, after all. :lol:
With that in mind, please don't come at me with armored flying submarine tanks or any shite like that; I see that too much the way it is!

(ooc: heh, thanks! If you don't mind, I think a convoy headed to Walmington on Sea would be the best reason for Iansislean naval assets to be anywhere in the general area...including my personal hero, Captain Kennith Jones of the Antilochus. And don't worry - the closest thing I have to a flying tank is my BAF-1 Blinder bomber, and its 4,000 lb bomb-load is hardly impressive ;))

HIMS Antilochus
On patrol with the Friendship Fleet, between the Cape and Walmington on Sea, near the Canary Islands

The James shuddered as another Beddgelern missile tore into her bow, blasting men and red-hot steel into the air.

"This isn't real!" exclaimed Commander Kennith Jones, the James's executive officer. He slipped in a pool of fresh blood, slamming to the deck next to the prone form of Captain Paul Desjard, most senior Gallagan officer in the fleet. Crimson liquid sprayed from his browned neck, splattering Jones as he struggled back to his feet.

"Isn't real, Jones?" screamed the now half-crazed Commodore Thomas Gurney from down the bridge. "It's as real as can be! We're murdering the bastards! Get on the horn to the guns - full broadside to starboard, ten degrees elevation! We'll have them yet!"

Another missile crashed into the number two 12" turret, shearing it clean off the deck and detonating its ammunition stores. Jones stared at Gurney. "This isn't real! It's a dream! I've had it before!" The Commodore stared at him in shock.

"A dream! Is that a direct refusal to follow orders, Jones?" Gurney adjusted his aim from out the shattered window to Jones' forehead. "As master of the good ship HIMS King James I and commander of the Advance Fleet of the North Sea, I find you guilty of treason. The sentence is death." As yet another missile opened a massive hole in the James's armor belt, Gurney pulled the trigger...

And Captain Kennith Jones, master of His Iansislean Majesty's Ship Antilochus awoke with a shudder. He wasn't in the hellish waters of the Indian Ocean anymore. He was in his personal quarters aboard the Antilochus, escorting a small convoy of ships to Walmington. In his stupor, he recited all the mission objectives to clear his mind of the Battle of Salvador.

Cruiser HIMS Gadsan and destroyers HIMS Hector, Antilochus, and Ajax will escort convoy of ten merchantmen from Iansisle to Nusheld, and then around the Cape of Good Hope to Walmington on Sea to deliver MPAF-6 "Colt" aero-flyer for testing. In W.o.S., they will pick up samples of Walmintonish Cavalry Cruisers for testing in Iansisle. With war zone declared in North Atlantic, heavy escort is needed, as convoy will also be carrying...

But the dream had been different this time. He had stayed on the bridge this time, and Gurney had shot him. And...

Another detail jumped at him. "The Advance Fleet of the North Sea?" he pondered aloud. That made no sense - the Advance Fleet had been sent to their naval base in Victoria and Salvador, half a world away from the icy waters of the North Sea. He slammed a hand down on the intership communicator.

"Calloway! Tell helm to change course! We're headed to the North Sea!"

"Sir?"

"Damn it man, you heard me!"

"But sir, that's hardly on the way to Walmington on Sea...quite out of it, actually. Commodore Hansfield would hardly..."

"I don't care what Commodore Hansfield has to say, Calloway!"

"Besides sir, the Antilochus hasn't enough coal to make even Cornwall. If we seperate from the fleet, we won't be able to make almost any allied port at all." Jones sat back at groaned. He was acting just like - God forbid! - Commodore Gurney.

"You're right, damn you Calloway, you're right. Patch me through to the Gadsan."

"Captain?"
Capt. Hartgen awoke with a start. The clock beside his bunk showed 7:10; he had slept completely through the night. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, Hartgen swung his feet out of bed and onto the floor.
"Yes, what is it, First Officer?"
"The, ah..... passengers, sir."
The captain looked up at his first watch officer. Normaly, Lt. Hans Von Kessler was not a man to mince words. Yet today he was obviously distressed. Perhaps the battle (If one could even call it that, Hartgen thought) still weighed on him?
"Are they well, Lt?"
Von Kessler shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Well enough, captain..."
"Out with it, Hans. What's troubling you?"
Von Kessler looked up, startled. For as long as he has served aboard the Hollandorff, the captain had never adressed him so informally.
"Truth be told captain, something does prey on me."
The younger officer walked into the captain's cabin and shut the door. When he turned around, the color was gone from his face. Troubled, indeed thought Hartgen.
"We need not have destroyed that ship, sir. Many innocent people lost their lives. I cannot help but think that most did so needlessly. The way those people look at me....." Von Kessler sank into a chair, eyes closed.
"I feel like a common murderer."
Capt. Hartgen looked at the floor. He knew that Von Kessler had not agreed with his order to fire on the Liberty. He also knew how the young officer felt; during the Great War, Hartgen had served on the heavy cruiser Lindemarck, which had accidently attacked a Dutch merchant ship. The captain knew that no matter how he felt about attacking an unarmed passenger ship, it did not change things.
"Nothing that I can say will change the way you feel, Hans. I know the fact that her distress call would serve as a beacon to the Home Fleet is not lost on you. In the end, either you will make peace with what has happened, or you will not. In the meantime, I need you to focus on your duties; to the crew, as well as to Germany. I can count on you, can't I."
It was not a question; Hartgen already knew the answer. It was for Von Kessler's benefit that he asked.
"Yes, sir."
The captain stood, and Von Kessler followed. He looks better, if not much Hartgen thought to himself.
"About the passengers, sir..."
"See that they are cared for, but remember that this is a warship, not a liner. We'll put them ashore at our first opportunity."
The door swung closed behind Von Kessler, and Capt. Hartgen readied himself for the day.
OOC- BTW, great story Iansisle. :P

HIMS Gadsan
On patrol with the Friendship Fleet, between the Cape and Walmington on Sea, near the Canary Islands

"A dream, Captain?" asked Commodore Hansfield, removing his cap and rubbing his brow.

"Yes, Commodore G...er, Hansfield. I think some of the answers I'm looking for are in the North Sea."

"Captain Jones, you may be a decorated war hero, but the North Sea? Because of a dream? The North Sea is a declared warzone. I'm sure the last thing anyone wants is a group of Iansislean warships wandering about."

"Maybe not, Commodore, but I'm not asking for the whole fleet, just Antilochus. Who would notice a single destroyer in all that space?"

"The Germans for one, the British for two. The last thing we need is more Shieldian blood on our hands. I don't have to remind you that the navy's not put out a particuarly great showing in its last two engagments?"

"No, sir."

"We'll discuss this further after making port in Walmington. Gadsan out."

Hansfield hung up the wireless set and shook his head. What had gotten into Jones?

(ooc: Thanks! Um, just so everyone knows, Gadsan is a new Shield-class heavy cruiser, with stats here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=56639). The destroyers are older Aegean-class, basically overgrown, coal-fed, Great War torpedo boat era relics.

The Iansisle forces receive the following transmission from the French battleship Jean 'de Arc:
XXGerman raiders Deutschland, Brunswick reported southwest of IrelandXXExact position unknownXXBattlecruiser Brandenberg also believed to be close byXXU-boat activity high west of SpainXXBELIEVE GERMANS WILL NOT HONOR NEUTRALITYXX

HIMS Gadsan
Just north of the Canary Islands

Hansfield looked over the memmo, with some concern. Surely this would dispel Jones' fool notions about the North Sea - they'd have enough trouble reaching Walmington. Handing the message to the Gadsan's commander, he looked over his shoulder.

"Well, Elmerson? Anything on the surface search radar?"

"Er, no, sir. I've been meaning to tell you, sir, it's been out of commission. Think the storm we passed through off Liberia damaged it." The young ensign got a withering glare from the Commodore.

"We're waltzing into a war zone, and you didn't think to mention to me that we've been as blind as bats for the fifteen hundred nautical miles?"

"Blinder than bats, sir. They use echo-location." Hansfield calmed himself by reciting the opening paragraph to the Tablet of James four times in his head.

"Captain, ready an MPAF (pronounced Emm-paaf). No torpedo, extra fuel. Put her up on a recon mission." The captain nodded quickly, noticing the Commodore's dangerously quiet mood. "Have the second one prepared to take position after the first runs out of fuel. We'll stop only to recover them - the Gadsan can outrun any ship in this fleet. And alert the destroyers. Have Ajax take point, with Hector to our starboard and Antilochus to our port. We should be able to outrun any submarines. Instruct the fleet to increase speed to thirteen knots."

Capt. Hartgen tossed the wireless hardcopy onto the chart table. The command staff looked at each other, each face pale and drawn. Fleet Command had transmitted new deployment orders for the entire battlegroup; the Hollandorff was to meet with the tanker Barbarosa to refuel and then sortie into the North Sea to interdict convoys expected to leave for Britain from Finland. These convoys were expected to carry a large volume of high priority cargo; needless to say, such a convoy would be heavily guarded by the British. Fleet Command had instructed him to drop the Liberty survivors with the first ship he came across, regardless of her nationality. Hartgen felt uneasy trusting total strangers with the lives of his "passengers", as the crew had come to call them. "Prisoners" just hadn't felt right.
After discharging the survivors, the Hollandorff was to sortie with two light cruisers north of the convoy's path and try to draw off as many escorts as he could. Once the British were distracted, the main effort, consisting of the Tirpitz, Gneisenau, and several lighter ships would strike from the south. The greatest danger fell, of course, on the diversionary force; the size and armament of the Hollandorff meant she would be the target of the heaviest British ships.
"Helm, plot us a course to meet with the Barbarosa. Keep our speed below 18 knots; I want to have some fuel left when we get there, just in case. Prepare the "passengers" to disembark as soon as possible."
The Hollandorff turned southwest into the path of the resupply tanker.

"Look at that shabby Nazi rabble." Tutted PM Mainwaring, as he observed a WNP ralley passing through Highgate.
"You know I think some of them are infiltrating Britain, Wilson, they're actully demanding we join this war -on the side of the Germans! We should send in an armoured car. Arrest the lot of them!"
"Do you think that's wise, sir?"
"No no, of course not. Don't be so absurd Wilson. This is a democracy, man!"
Out of Mainwaring's line of sight, the deputy PM rolled his eyes.
"Look - at - that!" Spluttered Mainwaring, nodding towards a banner calling for the king's head.
"Perhaps we shouldn't bother ourselves, Prime Minister. We've plenty of other things to do, haven't we? I must say, I am looking forawd to seeing one of those, erm, rocket plane doo-dads. We are still looking into that, aren't we?"
"It's not a rocket plane, Wilson. Honestly, it's.. it's..a.. it's not a doo-dad, Wilson!"

Aside from the relatively uneventful disputes between elements of pro-war and pro-German WNP, pro-war/British royalists (though Walmington has its own long-standing monarchy, British kinship is felt strongly by many), and anti-war (often pro-American) factions, Walmington on Sea was thus far largely apart from the growing conflict. With few interests in Scandinavia, the waters of the North Sea were largely free of Walmingonian shipping -most of that was concentrated in toing and froing between the south and west African dominions.

Walmington hadn't even bothered to declare neutrality yet.

Capt. Hartgen had little trouble finding the Barbarosa in the end. The tanker was literally swarmed with German warships and U-boats waiting to be refueled; Hartgen spotted the Sharnhorst and a pair of light cruisers in the final stages of refueling.
"Radio to the Barbarosa that we are ready to take on our supplies as soon as she is ready. Also, inform her that we have guests that need to be transfered as well."
Captain Hartgen turned to Lt. Von Kessler.
"Make our passengers ready to depart as soon as they can, Lt. I want to get underway before nightfall."
Von Kessler saluted and moved to prepare their passengers for transfer to the tanker. It will be good to be rid of this open wound..., he thought.
Capt. Hartgen turned and began giving orders, getting his ship ready to tie up with the Barbarosa. The crew had much to acomplish before nightfall.

Marianne was frantic. The Germans were loading the survivors of the Liberty onto boats and taking them to another ship. But it wasn't so much that frightening her as the fact that Polly was nowhere to be found. Of all the times for her to wander off, she thought. Hunting through the crowd for her sister was an excercise in futility; with the Germans loading them off the ship, she had no idea if Polly was already gone, or somewhere onboard still. Asking the crew was equally frustrating; most spoke little or no English, and Marianne spoke no German. Fear was working its cold bony fingers into her stomach; she had already lost her parents, and had no intention of losing her sister as well. Marianne kept hunting through the shrinking crowd, hoping Polly was just playing a game, that she would turn around and see her grinning, saying "I got you!" But as the group grew smaller and the stacks of crates and barrels grew larger, her hope began to fade.
Soon, the crew of the Hollandorff were putting the last passengers on the boats. Marianne had looked everywhere, and there was still no sign of her sister. She MUST have gone over already, she thought. Oh, Polly. Why can't you ever stay still? Marianne climbed onto the last boat, resolving to turn the ship she was heading to upside down, find Polly, and hug her as tightly as she could.
From the deck of the Hollandorff, hidden behind a crate of banannas, Polly watched her sister as she was taken away. Maybe Hide and Seek hadn't been such a good idea after all...

The Hollandorff finished resupplying shortly before nightfall. After receiving clearance to depart from Fleet Command, she sailed north with her hunting partners, the light cruisers Löwin and Jutland. Capt. Hartgen pressed on quickly, hoping to make up the time lost in the refueling process while trying to conserve as much of the warships' precious fuel as he could. The Hollandorff could have made much better speed on her own; the Löwin was a modern cruiser powered by diesel engines, but the older Jutland was driven by outdated and fuel hungry steam turbines, and thus slowed the group's progress. Indeed, some of the cargo room aboard the other two ships had been set aside for drums of fuel oil intended for the Jutland; quite a liability, considering they were headed into combat. So Capt. Hartgen sailed as fast as he dared; needless to say, it was slower that he would have liked.
By morning, the three ships were nearing their positions. The British were expected to sail their convoys through this area within the next two days, and Capt. Hartgen's group had been tasked with the diversion which was hoped to draw off at least part of the escort force. Exactly what the British would be guarding the convoys with was anyone's guess; considering the importance of the cargo the ships were expected to be carrying and the fact that the main force of the Eastern Fleet was engaged in the sortie suggested that they might encounter anything up to battleship size. Hartgen intended to make a good showing in the coming battle, but was concerned about what fate he would face if the Tirpitz and her consorts were delayed. But all that was what might be; all there was to do now was wait...

Bump-o

Aboard the battleship Tirpitz, Rear Admiral Graf Karl Van Meter stood before the operations chart, hands folded neatly behind his back. Red pins indicated the positions of the warships under his command for this sortie, while blue pins represended Fleet Command's best guess at the position of the British convoys. Admiral Van Meter shook his head; it had been over three hours since any positional updates had come from OKW. At this point, the chart was next to useless.
Karl Van Meter was a highly regarded officer, a decorated hero of the Great War who had fought at Jutland and Dogger Bank, two of the Imperial Fleet's greatest battles. The long years between the War and the rise of the Kriegsmarine had been a trial of his resolve and love of the sea, but his patience had been rewarded. He now stood on the bridge of the greatest battleship in the North Sea, a ship matched only by her sister, the Bismarck. Van Meter had waited twenty long years to repay the British for the humiliation of the Treaty, which had torn the heart out of Germany. Perhaps today he would get his chance...
"Admiral, sir! A transmission, from U-422!"
Admiral Van Meter's aide handed him the hardcopy of the U-boats message.


XXConvoy sighted grid CJ44XX30+ merchantXXBattleship escort believed HMS AvengerXXAlso sighted carrier HMS HawthorneXXWSW 12 knotsXX

The admiral's aides hurredly updated the chart. U-422's report placed the convoy roughly 200 miles northeast of the battlegroup. The nearest forces to the convoy was the Hollandorff's scouting party.
"Send a message to Capt. Hartgen. Inform him of the position and strength of the escort forces. His orders are to try and divert the convoy south, and draw off what escorts he can. Advise him to be extremely careful of the Avenger and Hawthorne."
Admiral Van Meter turned to Capt. Ludwig Esserman, the Tirpitz's captain.
"Set our course strait for the convoy. Order all ships to sail at full speed."

The Avenger
With the Friendship Fleet, 300nm west of Nantes

Flight Lieutenant Herman Blue reduced his air speed, pulling alongside the Gadsan. As the cruiser slowed to a stop, Blue dropped his float plane down, pontoons digging into the water. The massive crane swung out over his MPAF-3. Blue and his co-pilot crawled nimbly out of the cockpit, attaching wires here and there. Forward, the second recon plane was being readied for its mission. Blue waved to the rider as his flyer was dragged out of the water and swung into the Gadsan's ready port.

With a massive [i]thump, the second aero-flyer shot from its catapult, scrapping just over the white capped waves of the Bay of Biscay. As blue dismounted, a young sailor walked up.

"Anything to report, lef-tenant?"

"Not a balmy thing. Good, too, I suppose. Wish we had more flyers to cover such a large area."

"Don't worry, sir, they got crews working on the 'San's radar. It'll be up soon enough."

Lt. Von Kessler walked to Capt. Hartgen's cabin with the latest orders from Admiral Van Meter folded neatly in his hand. It seemed that the admiral expected the British to pass very close by the Hollandorff within the next few hours. As Von Kessler turned down the hall toward the officer's quarters, something caught his eye. He almost ignored it and continued on to Capt. Hartgen's cabin, but someting told him to stop. Backtracking, he came to the door of one of the officer's cabins. Poking out from under the corner of the door was a bit of red fabric. Von Kessler knelt and pulled it free, unbelieving.
The piece of cloth was, in fact, a velvet ribbon, the sort a woman would tie her hair up with. A woman...or a young girl, he thought. Where have I seen this before? It was recently...... The young officer shook his head; there was no time to think about this now. Perhaps later, he would have the luxury of such speculation. Von Kessler turned quickly, placing the ribbon in a pocket as he went.
Behind him, the door to the cabin cracked, and a pale green eye peeked out. Satisfied that he was going, Polly carefully latched the door again. She knew she couldn't stay here forever; the room was clearly occupied, and whoever made his home here would return eventually. But for now, she would stay hidden.

Lt. Eric Brunwald, First Watch officer onboard the battlecruiser Brandenberg, ran to the cabin of Capt. Bernhard Rogge. The captain had bedded down less than an hour ago, but lookouts had spotted aircraft and what might have been a cruiser on the horizon. The identity of the contact was still subject to debate, but the captain would definitely want to know of its presence. Brunwald knocked loudly on the door to Capt. Rogge's cabin, then knocked again. When his commander failed to answer, he opened the door and strode quickly to the bunk; normally, this would be a gross breach of conduct, but the circumstances denied him the option of waiting.
Capt. Rogge was quite deeply asleep; it took nearly five minutes for Brunwald to be sure that he was completely awake. The junior officer felt great respect for his superior; the captain had been on duty for close to 20 hours strait, taking the watch of an officer who had fallen ill in addition to his own duties. Lt. Brunwald hoped that he would perform as well when he became captain of his own ship.
"Sir, a ship has been spotted on the horizon. We've observed several aircraft in the area; I believe it to be a light cruiser at least, sir. The identity of the ship is not known yet, so I gave the order for general quarters and for us to keep our distance for now."
Capt. Rogge shook the last few cobwebs from his head and stood.
"Give the order to close with the ship, unless any other contacts are spotted. Send them a message instructing them to identify themselves and state their destination in either event. I'll be on the bridge presently."
Brunwald saluted and made for the control tower. Capt. Rogge looked at his bed a moment longer, then sighed, splashed some water over his face, and made his own way to the bridge.

Transmission from KMP Brandenberg to unknown warship:
XXIdentify and state destinationXX

OOC-The ship they're looking at is most likely one of your destroyer escorts, and not the cruiser itself, but take any liberties you see fit.

We should be able to outrun any submarines.

Huh? When did you stop calling them submersibles?

The Anna-Beth
Over the North Atlantic

"IS THAT A SHIP?" roared Senior Aeroflyerman Wilson Nantuck over the roar of the Beth's engine.

"IT IS!" screamed the pilot, Flight Lieutenant Nicolas Renaiux, to his spotter.

"TAKE US IN CLOSER!" bellowed Nantuck. Renaiux just nodded, bringing the lumbering biplane about towards the contact. It drove through the (ooc - Hector if you're coming in from the west; Antilochus if from the east)'s black coal trail, quickly closing to less than a mile from the contact, up high.

"WHOSE IS IT?" yelled Renaiux, flipping the flyer about to run infront of the ship. Nantuck squinted through his binoculars.

"THE GERMAN'S, I THINK" replied Nantuck. "WE'D BETTER GO TELL THE GADSAN!"

"RIGHT!" screamed Renaiux, preparing to return the Beth to the cruiser.

(ooc - I didn't. :oops: Oh, well, that's not as embarassing as the time I called an aero-flyer an airplane. Like anyone would know what I was talking about!)

Capt. Rogge looked out from the bridge of the Brandenberg on the Iansislian ship barely visable on the horizon. A spotter plane had flown overhead earlier, and Rogge could only assume it had come from a larger ship over the horizon. The destroyer he could see through his glasses was far too small to carry or launch any aircraft. No reply had been given to the radio transmission the Brandenberg had sent; Capt. Rogge could only speculate why. If no response was forthcoming, or if the ships tried to flee.... well, best not to even think about that.
"Draft a message to Fleet Command. Ask how our orders are to apply here."
Before sailing, the raiders currently on station in the Western Approaches had been issued specific orders; no merchant vessel was to arrive in Britain, regardless of their origon. Regarding warships, the order had been less specific, to allow the captains to exercise their own initative. But Iansisle was not an enemy nation, not had she expressed any hostile feeling toward Germany. As long as she wasn't bound for Britain, Capt. Rogge could let them by without a second thought. If not..... Let it not come to that, please, he thought.
Capt. Rogge raised his binoculars, knowing all he could really do was wait for a response and hope for the best.

(I'm going to assume you're approaching from the east (our starboard). Captain Jones is much more fun than the Hector's skipper ;) If not, pretend the Commodore simply arranged his ships the proper way for you to be making contact with the Antilochus)

HIMS Antilochus

"They know we're out here, captain. There's no point in hiding it. We need to respond, or they'll assume us to the hostile," insisted the radio officer, looking at Jones.

"Alright, very well. Reply, but be brief. Don't reveal anything you don't need to."

Transmission from HIMS Antilochus to KMP Brandenberg:

We are the Iansislean destroyer Antilochus, en route to Walmington on Sea. These are international waters.

(ooc - all my ships except Gadsan are coal fired, so you can probably see multiple large smoke trails.)

Capt. Rogge read over the radiogram from the Antilochus. Surely her captain wasn't trusting "international waters" to protect his ship. Neutral vessels were not protected by maritime law if headed for an enemy port; the Brandenberg had sunk a Greek merchantman bound for England a few days before. Still, Iansisle had no prior ties to Britain, and the captain had clearly stated his destination. Besides, it was best not to antagonize a neutral nation in what was already shaping up to be a harsh war for the Kriegsmarine.
Capt. Rogge quickly drafted a response to the Antilochus.

XXWe will escort you within a safe distance of your destinationXX

By following the Iansislian group to Walmington on Sea, Rogge achieved two purposes at once; he could ensure that no harm was done to them by German forces, and that they were telling the truth about their destination. The Brandenberg's wireless operator dispached the message, and Rogge turned back to his charts, waiting for what the response would be.

HIMS Antilochus

Jones read over the brief message, it's contents stinging in their implications. So the Germans think Iansislean naval power so weak that it cannot protect itself. He glanced out over the horizon, where he could just make out a faint outline.

Calloway, his wireless operator, looked up at him. "Your orders, sir?"

Jones' expression was carefully neutral. "Alter course slightly, taking us away from the convoy, but still heading to Walmington. Reduce speed to ten knots. There's no reason to go releasing a wolf into our hens if we don't need to. Radio the Gadsan, on an open band. Advise them of the Germans, inform them they will escort us - be sure to use the word us, Calloway, not 'the fleet' or 'the convoy' - to Walmington."

"And the Brandenberg, sir?"

"Send them our thanks. Be right humble about it."

"Aye, captain," replied the young officer, somewhat confused, but not about to disobey. Jones was a war-hero, after all.

(of what sort is the Brandenberg? I can't seem to find anything by the name except an old pre-dreadnought.)

OOC- The KMP Brandenberg was never actually a ship used by the Kriegsmarine. It belongs to the same class of warship as the Sharnhorst and the Gneisenau; the full technical information can be found here (http://www.german-navy.de/kriegsmarine/ships/battleships/scharnhorst/tech.html). (This is the site where I get most of the specs for my ships from; it clearly roxors your boxors!)
If you want to know the composition of my fleet, and what ships are typically stationed where, then this link (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=57240&highlight=) should give you everything you need to know. Any questions, feel free to ask.

(*whistles* That's quite some battleship, considering it's a second-rater to Bismarck. She actually displaces quite a bit more than Undauntable (specs found here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=53958)), and out-guns / armors her. Granted, the Undauntable has larger standoff guns, but you've quite a few lower caliber weapons.

Grr...one of these days, I promise to build a battleship that displaces more than 33,000 short tons :P.

In the mean time, how much would Jones know about your ship? A quick scan of Antilochus would reveal her to displace roughly 4,000 tons - big for a destroyer - mount 6" guns (can't remember how many, and I've lost the thread...call it 8 ), 10 banks of 18" torpedoes (Javelins, stats given here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=56639)), and various small caliber AA guns. She appears to be quite aged and outdated.)

Outside observers can see the three turrets (kinda hard to miss), floatplane launch and recovery equipment, and radar aerials. The set currently fitted to the Brandenberg is fixed directional, looking in a 90* arc in front of the ship, and used primarily for range-finding. A smaller, weaker sweep radar is used for tracking aircraft. (Like Germany, Der Kriegsmarine's radar technology is behind the times.) Other than that, I guess I can't think of anything else that would really help you here. There's a large line drawing of the Sharnhorst if you click on the Info header on the link I posted; that should give you a good idea of what you can "see".
The Brandenberg is not dispached here as a commerce raider; her steam turbines have too limited endurance for long sorties. Rather, she's intended to serve a support function for any of the four Deutschlands currently patroling the convoy lanes who run into more trouble than they can handle; the "cavalry", as it were.

<About an hour later>
"Are they......."
Lt. Brunwald lowered his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Quickly raising them again, he looked out at the convoy under their "protection". Where the outlines of several ships had been barely visible, now he saw only the smoke trails left by their stacks, and those only faintly.
"God DAMMIT!" A clever play by the Antilochus, screening the convoy and keeping the Brandenberg far enough away to let the slower ships slip away. Such an act was hardly an indication of good faith on the part of Iansisle; perhaps the group was not headed to Walmington on Sea, as they had said. The more he thought about it as he ran for the bridge, the more Lt. Brunwald thought it likely; what mission would a cruiser group have in the Western Approaches, if not one of hostility?
Capt. Rogge was drafting a radiogram for Fleet COmmand when Lt. Brunwald burst into the control room.
"Sir...<pant>...the convoy.....<gasp>...."
Rogge looked up, confused. Then realization dawned on his face; snatching up his glasses from the map board, he scanned the horizon for the Iansislian ships. A wisp of black smoke on the horizon was all he saw. But those ships had been in sight......an hour ago, the last time you bothered to look, he thought. Well played, Captain. It's a shame we could not have met under friendlier terms...
"Give Fleet Command our position, and the position of the convoy. Also send to the Graf Spee; tell them to move to cut the convoy off while we're still close to them."
Capt. Rogge whirled.
"Helm, come to course 325, all ahead flank. Man the guns and prepare to fire on my order. Tell the Antilochus to stand down or we will fire."
Aboard the Antilochus, the sailors can see the gun crews of the Brandenberg rush to their firing stations. The forward 11" batteries bear down on the diminutive destroyer as the battlecruiser begins to come across the stern, heading for the convoy. The wireless comes alive with traffic; it's the Brandenberg, ordering the destroyer to halt and stand down.
OOC- If this is too soon for this (ie. you have things planned to do before this point), or bad timing, just let me know. I know how easy it is to get stuck on other stuff while someone moves the story along faster than you'd like.

HIMS Antilochus

"Captain..." started Lieutenant Jefferson, the watch officer keeping track of Brandenberg. "Something's afoot. They're running about on deck - looks like she's accelerating, too."

Jones shook his head to clear the cobwebs as he strode on deck, taking up a pair of glasses and peering out at Brandenberg. "Looks as if she's noticed our little ploy. Say, she's coming on awful fast..." Just then, Jones realized how badly the Germans may take his ploy to uphold Iansislean naval honor. And his ship was right in her way.

"Christ!" he exclaimed, "All hands to battle stations! Prepare a message for the Gadsan! Load all torpedo launchers! Helm, make for flank speed, rudder hard to starboard!" Alarm bells rang throughout the destroyer, crewmen rushing to their respective stations.

"Captain!" came Calloway's urgent shout. "A message! They order us to stand down and stop, or be fired upon!" The bridge was quiet for second while the crew waited to see Jones' reaction. The image of HIMS Andromache, broken and burning at the Battle of Salvador, flashed through his mind.

"There's no point in fighting," he whispered. "Flash a message to Brandenberg, indicating our intention to comply. Engines, prepare for full stop. Secure from battle stations." Even the alarms stopped now, as the crew quietly prepared to do the unthinkable - bend to a foreign warship's demands in international waters.

(ooc - no, not at all ;). If this thing comes to shooting, I'd ask that Jones gets spared, just because I like the character. If it's not possible, I understand. Hopefully, Iansislean pride is not such as to bring this to a shooting match - considering my combined fleet displaces about as much as Brandenberg.)

OOC- Oh, of course. I wouldn't presume to try and kill of one of your favored personalities; if I read Kitsylvania's thread on godmodding right, that's not even within my power. As for the rest....

IC-"Looks like they're standing down, sir."
Capt. Rogge let out a tense breath. Crushing the Antilochus would take next to no effort for the Brandenberg, but there was no honor in destroying an opponent so grossly overwhelmed, especially one who had demonstrated such guile and courage. To face the wrath of a battlecruiser with a single destroyer.... Rogge smiled. He would have very much liked to meet this captain under friendly circumstances.
"Ready a boarding party. Have us ready to be underway in five minutes. Helm, bring us alongside the Antilochus."
"What about the convoy, captain?" Lt. Brunwald's voice was almost breaking with anxiety. It was his first combat sortie, after all.
"What of it, Lt? A convoy can only sail as fast as its slowest ship; unless they scatter, we can easily catch up if we don't linger here overlong. Besides, should we just leave this ship? Do you think they will remain here while we give chase?"
Brunwald looked at the deck, shamefaced. Of course, the captain was right.
"Don't look so shamed, Herr Brunwald. There are many questions whos answers come not from books, but from experience. You'll learn all, in time.
The boarding party from the Brandenberg reached the Antilochus, grabbing the lines reluctantly tossed down by her crew. Soon all were aboard; Capt. Rogge met the officers of the destroyer with the naval salute; he had always despised the Nazi party, and gave the strait-armed salute only when necissary. The officers seemed startled that they were being met with courtesy instead of brandished arms.
"Who is the commander of this ship? I would very much like to speak to him."

OOC-I don't want to take any liberties and say how your Capt. Jones would act in this situation. Maybe once you give me an indication, I can try and guess what his reaction might be. Basically, Capt. Rogge will be asking where the convoy is really headed. Other than that, he's not too concerned; the incident ended without any bloodshed, which is how he would prefer all to end.

Capt. Hartgen lay in the shattered control room of the Hollandorff, dying just as surely as his crew, as his ship was dying. Blood poured from dozens of shrapnel wounds; his left leg had nearly been severed by it. With his last bit of strength, Hartgen dragged himself to the door of the bridge. From here, he thought, I can watch what happens... But the captain already knew what must eventually come.
The attack had gone exactly as expected; the German fleet had savaged the British ships, but the diversionary force had paid a heavy price. On the Hollandorff's port side, the Jutland pointed her bow to the sky and slipped beneath the sea, taking 717 men down to their graves. She had been named after the Imperial Fleet's greatest battle; Capt. Hartgen thought her end a fitting tribute to her spirit, and the spirit of the High Seas Fleet, already two decades in its grave. As for the Löwin, she had gone down in flames within ten minutes of the first shot. Capt. Hartgen coughed wetly, blood pouring from his mouth and nose; his own end would not be long in coming. The broken remains of his battle group were not all that caught his eye; Lt. Von Kessler lay in a pool of blood at the fire control director, where he had stood untill the bridge took a direct hit from one of HMS Avenger's 15" shells. What had caught Hartgen's eye was not his junior's broken body (tragic though that was), but a bit of something held in his hand. Something important to him, the captain thought. The last thing he ever held, ever thought about.... Hartgen managed to find a bit more strength, and dragged his own torn body to the young lieutenant. He grabbed Von Kessler's hand and pulled the item free. A velvet ribbon; once it had been bright blue, but that was before a young man had leaked out his life's blood onto it. Someone special to him, who he'll never see again... Overwhelmed by his own impending mortality, Capt. Kessler clutched the ribbon to his own scarlet chest and began to weep.

OOC-I wonder if anyone was curious how the Hollandorff fared...
In a word, not well. While Battlegroup East managed to deal tremendous damage to the British forces sailing from Finland, including the destruction of the battleship Avenger and over 20 merchant ships, they paid a heavy price. The Hollandorff, Jutland, Löwin, and four destroyers were sunk with heavy loss of life. The Gneisenau, Dogger Bank, and seven other destroyers were badly damaged. In total, 2500+ sailors were killed, and countless others wounded. Sadly, little Polly Burton was also killed when the Hollandorff sank. :cry:

"They're coming alongside, sir," reported Jefferson dryly, watching as the bulk of Brandenberg glided up next to Antilochus. Jones, straighting the tie on his dress blue uniform, watched her out the glass. He had already ordered all of Antilochus's guns pointed away from her and the torpedoes unloaded. Gazing at the massive battlecruiser, Jones could see the utter helplessness of his own position.

"The things the size of the blinkin' Undauntable," muttered Calloway.

"Bigger than the Gadsan, even," agreed Jefferson. "I wonder if the entire fleet could take her?"

"Gentlemen," interupted Jones, before any speculation could take place. "Calloway, I want you to draft a message to Commodore Hansfield, telling him what has taken place. Don't send it, mind you - a wireless transmission now may not be seen too kindly in the current light. In the meantime, Commander Matthewson," he said, turning to address his executive officer, who was actually only a lieutenant commander, "they seem to be putting a boat over. Go meet them; be kind, cordial, polite, humble - whatever else doesn't get us all killed - but try not to tell them too much."

Matthewson threw a quick salute. "Aye, sir. Ah, will you be joining us?"

"In good time, Commander," replied Jones, attaching the medal that denoted him as a survivor of the Battle of Salvador. "Now hurry."
__________________

Matthewson didn't like the prospect of foreign officers on a ship of the Iansislean crown, bit there was little he could do about it. He returned the salute of an officer - he assumed the captain of the Brandenberg.

"Welcome aboard His Iansislean Majesty's Ship Antilochus. What may I help you with?"

"Captain Jones, sir? Er, he's on the bridge right now. I expect he'll be down shortly, if you don't mind waiting."

(Aww, poor Polly :cry: And the poor Jutland - I love the history of that battle!)

Sadly, little Polly Burton was also killed when the Hollandorff sank. :cry:

OOC: No! Not fair!

Oh, wait. War never was fair. Whatever.

Capt. Rogge gave the Antilochus a quick review while he waited for Capt. Jones to appear. A fine ship, to be sure. The destroyer's crew eyed their new passengers uneasily, and rightly so. To surrender freedom of command to a foreign power at sea would make any crew nervous, and Capt. Rogge made certain his men did nothing to aggrevate the situation.
Turning, Rogge found himself facing a tall, imposing figure clad in a splendid dress uniform. The man's face was drawn and grim; clearly, he did not relish the position he was in, even though it had certainly saved his life, and the lives of his crew. Capt. Rogge strode to where he was standing.
"Capt. Jones, I presume?" Rogge's English was clear, but strongly accented. When the Iansislian officer nodded, Rogge held out his hand.
"A privelige to meet a survivor of Salvador. If we may?" Capt. Rogge indicated for Jones to walk with him a distance up toward the bow of the Antilochus.
Leaving the others behind, Rogge and Jones walked untill they could speak to each other without being overheard.
"I must say, I was impressed with your courage, and that of your crew. Facing an obviously superior adversary is never to be undertaken lightly, wouldn't you agree, captain?" Whether or not Capt. Rogge was making a reference to the Battle of Salvador with his last remark was uncertain. Perhaps he was showing utter contempt for the Antilochus and the Iansislian Navy in general; perhaps he was simply saying he respected Capt. Jones decision to act decisively in the face of overwhelming odds, regardless of the outcome. Capt. Jones breathed heavily.
"Sir, you have my ship. What is it now that you want?"
Capt. Rogge was again impressed by his opponent's composure. He understood fully how the captain must feel, and his desire to maintain as much control as he was able. Softly now, he thought.
"You must understand if I am somewhat....sceptical of the destination your fleet provided us. I trust you understand that my duties forbid me to allow that convoy to arrive in a hostile port. In light of your actions, there is only one logical conclusion; you misled us about your destination because you believed we would try and divert you from there. So, unless I can be assured of those ships' true destination, I will be forced to interdict them, with whatever force is necissary to ensure I complete my mission."
Capt. Rogge paused; the message of his words hung menacingly in the air. Capt. Jones jaw tightened; he knew the Brandenberg was more than capable of destroying the entire convoy with little risk to herself. Capt. Rogge went on.
"However, if I can be shown, with a reasonable amount of certainty, that your forces are not headed for Britain, then I have no reason to pursue, or to hold your own vessel for that matter. Captain, I will be completely forthcoming with you; I have no desire to detain you, or to provoke any bloodshed by attacking your forces. But I cannot, in good conscience, let those ships simply sail away."
"Your word as an officer and a gentleman is more than enough assurance for me, but I must know, captain; where are your ships headed?"

Jones gazed evenly at Rogge throughout the conversation, careful to keep his face as impassive as possible. The reference to Salvador - was it somewhat mockingly? - stung Jones as much as it did any other Iansislean officer. For too long the Royal Iansislean Navy had been victorious - now defeat was especially painful, and its aftertaste all the more bitter.

He hadn’t been lying about the convoy’s destination, of course - they were still out there, probably unaware of events on the Antilochus, steaming at fourteen knots for Walmington on Sea. If this Rogge character decided to give chase, would he be able to warn them? Or would the Commodore be caught unawares, unable to do anything to save his convoy? Friendly water was still a distance away.

There was always the old ‘International Waters’ ploy, but Jones had little hopes for success on that gambit. If the Brandenberg decided she was heading for Britain or France (assuming it’s still early in the war here - which makes the convoy’s primary cargo (one fully functional MPAF-6 “Colt” jet fighter) very valuable...of course, Rogge doesn’t know about that), it wouldn’t be hard to transfer his small crew, scuttle the Antilochus and intercept the convoy before it could make Walmingtonish air cover.

The captain gripped the rail, gazing over at the German battleship and stalling for time to think. They won’t believe the truth, thanks to my actions, and there’s not a lie that won’t end with more death. He heard a faint buzzing in the distance, while deciding that the truth - no matter what the captain’s decision - was probably the best choice.

“Captain Rogge, I’m afraid that I was responsible for a great misunderstanding among our crews. I allowed my arrogance and pride to blind my judgment. You see, captain, the Iansisleans are a traditionally seafaring people. Our recent impotence has caused some - myself included - to judge every offer of help, every bit of kindness as a personal affront. It’s not that we aren’t going to Walmington on Sea - we are - it’s that I didn’t want your help in escorting the convoy.”

The buzzing had been increasing in pitch gradually, and now a small shape resolved itself above the horizon - it was the MPAF-3F recon plane. Jones tried to ignore it as the rider banked his mount gracefully around north, but it was clear that Rogge’s sharp eyes had already picked it up.

ooc:Don't mind my interruption. I assume WoS is generally aware of an inbound convoy from Iansisle? Unless this is a "surprise! We brought you a jet fighter!" thing :) And presumably we have no notion of the precise goings on with the Antilochus, but would any word of trouble in the convoy have reached WoS? I'm sure we'd be inclined to at least inquire as to the nature of DK's interception/file some sort of protest/request.

[Thinks for a moment] Come to think of it, I suppose the convoy itself has nothing much to report yet, beyond the fact of a foreign ship being in international waters [gasp]

Oh lordy, I'm rambling.

[Gets back to shipping goods from the west into Liverpool and maybe Bristol [whistles]]

Unless this is a "surprise! We brought you a jet fighter!" thing :)

(heh, that WOULD be funny. I'm assuming this little transaction was part of the vague air for land tech thing...it's not really a gift, just on loan from the Commonwealth for testing, see if you want to buy it. Irvin Graye is, of course, hard at work on his MPAF-7, but it may be some while before that comes out. I'm sure the proper authorities were contacted. By the way, the part about taking a CC mkII back to Iansisle for testing were speculation on my part - you don't have to loan/sell us the tank if you don't want to (of course ;)

The Gadsan currently has no idea what's happening with the Antilochus. She and the convoy are steaming north, somewhat concerned about u-boats and commerce raiders. We're still probably off the north coast of France (I believe we were 300 nm west of Nantes when we encountered Brandenberg?). Not knowing the exact location of W.o.S., it's possible we're close, though I imagine not. We could always have the encounter occur further south, off spain or even morocco if you want, D.K. I didn't mean to guess the location of your ships.)

ooc:Yeah, sounds good. I should think we'll be interested in the tech- I hope eventually to have WoS develop its own WWII era jets based on British models, but I belive your MPAF-6 is in form at least closer to a German effort- apperntly you've caught on to the swept wing thing. Now that could make a Vampire pretty impressive (rubs hands). No problem with the tanks. I want my CCMkII to get its tail kicked somewhere so I can move on, really :) The Turtle would probably be available to you as well. I believe you're more inclined to make than to buy, so perhaps it'd end up a trade of concepts and ideas rather than masses of material units?


Mh, yeah, I never quite fixed the exact location. I should do that. It used to be ...Iceland, but that didn't really suit the character of the nation, so I moved south. Then I got all concerned about currents and flows and climate, and never settled. I really ought to [mumbles to self, looking at ridges and things. 50oddN/20ishW]


(okay, sorry DK, I'm taking up great chunks of your thread here. It's all very good, by the way. Do continue :D )

OOC-No, by all means. I'm having as much fun with this as you are!
As for the location, the only point I want to make it that the Bradenberg would not be within the range of land-based fighters from either Britain or France, for security sake. Other than that, it's wide open.

IC-Capt. Rogge took in his counterpart's words. It seems unlikely that this is all the result of an effort to save face, he thought. Curiousity began to gnaw at his mind, distracting him from the matter at hand. What exactly are those ships moving....? Still, he had given his word that he would honor Capt. Jones answer, and he maintained that the convoy was bound for Walmington. There was little he could actually do about the situation, anyway; the brave words he'd had about not allowing the Iansislian vessels to reach their destination had been a bluff. OKW and Fleet Command would never risk the ire of a neutral sea power, and certainly not an established one such as Iansisle. In reality, Rogge could either scuttle the Antilochus and take the crew prisoner, or he could let them go on their way. Capt. Rogge had no desire to add injury to the insult that Capt. Jones had endured trying to do his duty. Rogge remembered all too well being a sailor in a navy viewed by some to be impotent.
"Capt. Jones, I wish to thank you for your hospitality. I am releasing the Antilochus into your care; I trust you will continue to serve your flag with the detication and courage you have shown today. I also hope that someday we can meet under a friendly flag."
Capt. Rogge rendered the naval salute, then turned and walked back to the boarding party. The men swung over the rail and climbed down to their boat. Capt. Rogge was last to leave; he nodded once to the Antilochus' captain, then climbed down.
"We're just letting them go, sir?", Brunwald asked him once they were underway. The captain looked at his junior officer who sat, incredulous to what was happening.
"That's right, Herr Leutnant. They are a neutral ship, bound for a neutral nation. Our orders forbid us to molest any such vessel, regardless of your personal suspicions. And the Greek merchant," Rogge added, cutting off Brunwald's protests, "was carrying British goods bound for Malta. The situation is completely different."
As soon as the boarding party is back aboard the Brandenberg, the German battlecruiser sails off into the North Atlantic, leaving the Antilochus behind.

Once aboard, Capt. Rogge ordered a dispach drafted and sent using a new setting on the ship's Enigma.
The radiogram arrives at Fleet Command, and is immediately passed onto the office of Korvettenkapitän Ernst Branfeldt, commander of the 17th Flottenkommandogruppe.

XXCapt. Rogge of Brandenberg inquiring disposition of kommandogruppeXXPossible item of interest: Iansislian convoy bound for Walmington on SeaXXCargo unknown but clearly of HIGH value to one or both partiesXX

<Aboard U-155, The Western Approaches>
Capt. Reinhardt finished decoding the radiogram and leaned back in his chair. Double coded... That's a first.

XXMove to grid AJ22XXIntercept Iansislian convoyXXDelay untill U-227 can arrive and attempt siezureXX

God, what a farce... Reinhardt thought. As one of the dozen-odd U-boat captains attached to the Flottenkommandos, he had been picked because he was a decisive thinker, and unafraid to take a risk if it might pay off big. But even Capt. Reinhardt was hesitant to launch such a reckless attack. Intercept a convoy hours away, attack in the dark, identify the ship carrying whatever it is we're supposed to sieze, and escape before we're sunk..... He shook his head. Madness.
The First Watch officer pused the curtain that served as the captain's cabin door aside.
"Orders, skipper?"
"Grid AJ22, ahead full. We've got a convoy to raid."
The First Officer grinned. This was a game they'd played before....

HIMS Antilochus

Jones returned Rogge’s salute. Did he actually believe me?

“Captain, there is nothing that would bring me greater pleasure than meeting with you in less strained circumstances. However, as I doubt that is possible in the current atmosphere, I must bid you farewell, clear skies, and a strong wind.”

Jones stood with Jefferson and Matthewson as they watched the German launch return to Brandenberg in silence.

“Think they’ll keep their word, skipper?” asked Matthewson in a whisper, as if the Germans were still aboard.

“Captain Rogge gave me no reason to doubt his character or his word,” replied Jones. “But I fear rank may overpower morals in this situation. The intrepid captain will doubtlessly wire in the report, and who knows what Berlin will tell him? I hope this is the end of our ordeal, but I fear it may just be the beginning.” As Jones was talking, the three officers walked back to Antilochus’ bridge, the young officers and men gazing at them.

A quick retell of the story followed, until Peters, the Able Seaman on the helm, asked in a half whisper. “Orders, captain?” Jones walked to the observation deck, looking at Brandenberg.

“Bring us back to an intercept course with the convoy, if you please. Don’t make even the slightest move that would indicate a course towards the British Isles. Calloway, send the Gadsan a wireless. Tell them of the situation - but leave out the part where we were forced to capitulate. Say we invited the Germans aboard. Peters, all ahead eighteen knots - but bring us up slowly.”

(oooh....dirty U-boats. Or rather, dirty backwards Admiralty that refuses to consider submersibles an effective weapon of war! My destroyers here have no hydrophones or depth charge throwers...at all. Considering that this convoy departed well before that thread detailing my new ships, we could say this impeding incident inspired the creation of the Tiger and Protector classes, eh?)

OOC-That sounds well and good. I know that it took the British far too long to bring their ASW techniques up to speed at the beginning of the war, so this all makes sense to me.

IC-The KMP Brunswick sat alone in the seas west of Britain. Her crew had been on-station for nearly three months now, but had yet to strike a decisive blow for the Kriegsmarine. News of the Hollandorff's sinking in the North Sea had brought the crew's spirits down; the two ships had been comissioned together, and sailed together during their sea trials. The Brunswick's Capt. Von Walshstein had been close friends with Capt. Hartgen from before the war, so the loss was personal as well. The lack of action in what was normally a busy section of Britain's shipping lanes was compounded by victory reports from the other raiders and U-boats operating in the area. The crew were eager to prove their worth and willingness to fight for the Fatherland, but lacked the opportunity.
Capt. Von Walshstein lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling and thinking of home. He often found himself here, listlessly watching the walls, simply waiting for something to happen... like a knock on the door. The captain sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Come in."
The Second Watch officer walked into the captain's cabin. In his hand was a radiogram, folded into quarters. The officer handed it to the captain, saluted, and walked out, shutting the door behind him. That was very odd, thought Von Walshstein. Picking up his spectacles off the bedside table, he unfolded the hardcopy. The first line read "Captains Eyes Only." Frowning, Von Walshstein read on...

XXCAPTAIN'S EYES ONLYXX
XXProceed to grid AJ22 and intercept Iansislian convoy bound for Walmington on SeaXX
Iansisle? Walmington? I wasn't aware we were at war with them.... Have things truly changed so drastically? Von Walshstein shook his head; such things were not for him to debate.
XXEscort forces 1 cruiser, 3 destroyersXXBrunswick tasked with engaging surface escorts to facilitate convoy siezure by Flottenkommanogruppe 17XX
This really must be important to Fleet Command, the captain mused, for them to dispach Flottenkommandoes to try and sieze it. Shaking his head, Von Walshstein reached for his cigarette lighter. He carefully lit the radiogram, and watched it burn before dropping it in the wastebasket. Then he rose to his feet and made for the bridge.

<Aboard U-155, The Western Approaches>

Capt. Reinhardt stood on the conning tower of U-155, scanning the horizon with his spyglasses. The Type-IX U-boat was the workhorse of the infant Flottenkommandos, due to its longer range and heavier armament. Most of the crew were trained kommandos, who departed the boat during operations, leaving a skeleton crew to operate the U-boat. For now every man aboard had a task; the kommandos readied their boarding gear and planned their attack while the crew kept a sharp eye for their target. With combat likely within hours, the kommandos prepared weapons and gear for the mission, and checked their rubber rafts for holes, and to ensure the non-glare coating needed no patches. Once their pre-combat tasks were completed, they grabbed what food they could; it might be a long time before they got another chance to eat.
The mission was a dangerous one. The plan was for the Brunswick to halt the Iansislian convoy, supposedly for a routine check of ID. While the ships were stopped, the kommandos were to steal aboard any cargo vessels and search them for the cargo the Iansislians protected so closely. Once it was found, they were to then sieze the ship and sail it back to Germany, under escort from U-155 and U-227. The OKW's orders had freed them to use whatever force necissary to capture the cargo, trusting suprise and violence of action to carry the day.
The wireless operator received a transmission and passed it on to the captain.
XXU-227 has target in sightXX

OOC-The Type-IX boats used by the Flottenkommandos are modified to carry 2 forward and 2 rear torpedo tubes. The extra cargo room holds the kommando's gear, as well as additional fuel and food stores. The boats carry 42 kommandos and 18 crewmen. The kommandos are heavily armed with SMG's, pistols, and explosive scuttling charges. Information on the Type-IX can be found here (http://www.uboat.net/types/ixc40.htm).

S.S. Capable

Able Seaman Ernest Keeler of the Royal Merchant Marine pulled his jacket closer against the biting North Atlantic wind. It had been a long trip thus far from Iansisle, out of Delton, down the Pacific, across the Indian, and back up the Atlantic Oceans. Now, they were at last near Walmington, where Keeler hoped for some relaxation time before departing.

Capable, a 48-man hauler, was the only true ‘cargo’ ship in the seven vessel RMM fleet. The fleet tender Belle was stocked with provisions for the near two thousand RIN and RMM sailors, the oiler South Sky with fuel for HIMS Gadsan and the Capable, and the coalers Barbara Jay, Best Intent, and Continent with fuel for the rest of the fleet. Slightly ahead of the convoy, the illuminated outline of HIMS Gadsan, running with peace-time lights on - as was the rest of the convoy - could be seen. Antilochus was to starboard and aft; Hector port and ahead. Keeler couldn’t see the Ajax, far in front of the main convoy, but knew she was there.

Everyone knew what Capable was holding, as it was the sole purpose for the convoy to travel the roughly twenty thousand miles to Walmington on Sea. Picking up armored vehicles that could easily be delivered through civilian means was a secondary priority, at best. In the Commonwealth, jet power was hardly common place, but people were starting to lose the fascination they had with Bankfield’s XJ-1 and XJ-2 experimental aero-flyers. There were still plenty of prints of Graye’s MPAF-6 - like the one Capable had in her holds - sold, but the public didn’t crowd the fences of RIFC aero-docks to catch a glimpse of one anymore.

Still, the government was concerned enough about sending one to even a trusted ally like Walmington on Sea. There were twelve armed men aboard, from the King’s VII Rifles division, and the large naval fleet, of course. Ernest couldn’t see the need for them. Granted, there was a war on, but they were neutral shipping headed for a neutral port in international waters. Surely no power would try to stop them after a brief explanation over the wireless?

Keeler came to the end of his patrol route, and came about, his keen eyes sweeping over the railing at the black sea.

The Brunswick sat just off the convoy's path, blacked out against the twilight sky. She had launched her spotter plane when U-227's last report had placed the target convoy close by, and very soon the pilot had the brightly lit Gadsan and her escorts in sight. As soon as the spotter relayed the convoy's position to the raider, Capt. Von Walshstein ordered the battle flag raised and full speed ahead. The raider worked up to 25 knots as she approached the convoy, and the crew hastened to their positions.
When the Brunswick closed to within 10 miles of the convoy, she changed course to come almost parallel with their route. She continued to close, waiting to be hailed by the vessels of Iansisle. Capt. Von Walshstein knew that the U-boats of the Flottenkommandos were shadowing the convoy; the darkness would allow them to draw very close without risk of being spotted. After he had halted the convoy, he was to signal them that all was ready for their attempt to sieze whatever cargo the convoy was guarding.
The range had come very close now, less than 6 miles. Surely their radar would have picked us up by now... the captain thought.
"Send a radiogram to the convoy. Announce our intent to stop them and check for identification."
The wireless operatior busied himself with sending the message. Soon, the air was alive with traffic.

XXUnidentified vessels, halt and identify yourselvesXXPrepare to be boarded and provide proof of identityXX

HIMS Gadsan

"Commodore..." started the young ensign manning the wireless unit. Both Hansfield and Captain Gregory Fitzpatrick, the Gadsan's master, looked up. "A transmission, sir. Asking us to halt and prepare to be boarded for identification purposes."

Hansfield furrowed his brow. "Identity on sending party?"

"None given here, sir. Sounds German, if you ask me."

"Speculation is never good, ensign. Wire them back. Don't be rude, but don't be gracious, either. Ask them what right they have to stop us, and who they are. Pierce, is that radar up yet?"

From behind the bulky radar set came a voice, probably attached to the pair of legs sticking out. "Almost, sir."

XXUnidentified hailer, we are neutral ships in international watersXXWe do not recognize your right to detain usXX

Capt. Von Walshstein read the message from the Gadsan. It said nothing he hadn't expected; the Ianislian commander wanted to know on what authority he demanded them to halt. The German captain sighed and crumpled the hardcopy into a ball.
"Send our reply as follows: give our identity and tell them that Britain is under naval blockade. All ships entering and leaving the area are required to provide proof of identity so that no neutral parties come to harm. Tell them we are prepared to back up our request with whatever force is necissary. Also tell them that they will not be delayed long, provided they don't try any heroics."
The wireless operator turned and began sending the captain's message. Von Walshstein turned our to the ocean, wondering if the Flottenkommandos were in position yet...

Hansfield read over the message, his frown deepening. "...'so no neutral parties are harmed.' Pash. Didn't Jones already inform the Germans very clearly of our intentions? How many cruiser-escorted convoys can there be in the Atlantic? Ensign, inform our friends that their comrades on the Brandenberg already have proof of our identity and our destination as being a neutral port.

"Helm, slow us to ten knots, and flash a message to the rest of the fleet. We don't want any trouble, but I'll be damned if I let some pushy Krauts in their shiny boats stop us without good cause." A second thought hit Hansfield. "Ensign, prepare an encoded message for Walmington on Sea. It should detail our current situation, as well as continued harrasment by German commerce raiders. Don't send it yet - I'll let you know when, if we have to."

S.S. Capable

Seaman Keeler peered into the dusky distance. Had he seen movement?

(ooc - I don't know if you were waiting for a response on the u-boat movement. Up to you if he saw anything or if it was just a fig-newton of his imagination.)

(edit: Oh, and nothing is meant oocly by racist comments ic. I do not hold with making slurs about any ethnicity, but Iansisleans are a naturally racist people, and some derogatory terms are needed for proper flavor. My apologies to any Germans who were offended - the characters do not represent my ooc views in any way, shape or form [/disclaimer])

OOC-It's entirely possible your man spotted one of the U-boats shadowing the convoy; they would be following very closely at this point. If you want to say that's what he saw, it would certainly move the story along nicely.

IC-Capt. Von Walshstein read over the response from Iansisle; it contained nothing he had not expected. The convoy commander wanted to know on what authority he demanded their stopping. The captain frowned; it didn't appear that the Iansislians were going to take the bait.
"Send our reply: tell them that the British Isles are under naval blockade, and all ships entering and leaving the area are subject to search. Tell them also that they will not be delayed any longer than necissary for us to fulfill our duty."
If they don't go for that, things might get a little tricky, he thought. I'm not happy about risking the lives of my crew on this wild notion of some secret cargo this convoy may be carrying. Capt. Von Walshstein knew that protesting OKW's decision would achieve little except to lose him his command. Best to hope that the mission would simply be finished with as little harm done as possible.

HIMS Gadsan

Commodore Hansfield saw red. "'Under blockade'?!" he bellowed, at no one in particular. "Those dirty rotten...think they can stop a neutral ship from delivering to a neutral port? The sheer nerve! Ensign, return a signal. This time, be less coy about it. Tell them than a ship in His Iansislean Majesty's service has no intention of stopping to be searched while flying the neutrality flag, en route to deliver to a neutral country! They can blockade all they want, they can shadow the convoy all they want, but we will not stop!"

"Ah, sir, are you sure that's wise?" asked Fitzpatrick in a whisper, so that the young officers couldn't hear him countermanding a superior. "Like you said, we don't want any trouble."

"Those balmy stinkers out there haven't a legal leg to stand on, and they know it!" exclaimed Hansfield. "They cannot go around stopping any ship they want simply because their guns are bigger than ours. Any attempt to force us to stop will be followed, of course - pride isn't worth our lives - but I intend to take issue with the highest maritime court I can find!"
____________

S.S. Capable

Keeler, now standing towards the large merchantman's aft, peered through the dusky gloom. Something was back there, all right, but what on earth was it? White water foamed, like when the bow of a ship cut through it, but there wasn't a ship - only a thin black outline, hardly perceptible even to Keeler's sharp eyes.

"Oi, Jerry!" he called, his voice shattering in the eerie quiet after Capable had reduced speed from fourteen to ten knots. "What do you make of that, then?"

Private Recruit Jerry Thomas, the young R.I.A.C. marine who had become fast friends with his watchmate, followed Keeler's pointing finger, squinting his eyes against the gloom.

Capt. Von Walshstein was growing worried. The Iansislian convoy was still refusing to compy with the Brunswick's order to halt. The likelyhood of the situation escalating to violence was becoming more real with every passing second. If we're lucky, there's time for one more message before this comes to a head, thought Von Walshstein. Better make it count...
"Draft this message, exactly as I say it. While I appreciate the position I am placing you in seems unacceptable, I cannot ignore my orders. All I require to pass you on is proof of your identity and for you to designate your destination. Once we have this, we will be on our way."
Capt. Von Walshstein knew that, if he delayed much longer, the radio intercept stations in Britain that were undoubtedly receiving these transmissions would pinpoint his location and dispach enemy warships to the Brunswick's position. This would be the last chance to achieve his mission in any kind of civilized fation. He waited tensely as the wireless operator relayed his message to the convoy's commander.

Aboard U-155, Capt. Reinhardt used his spyglasses to get a picture of exactly what he was up against. It didn't look promising; three destroyers screening a cruiser and over a half dozen merchant ships. Some of the ships he dismissed outright as carrying any highly sensitive cargo, such as the oiler and collier ships. That left the cruiser and the cargo ship. Capt. Reinhardt wished he was more familiar with the policies of Iansisle's navy; it would be far easier to guess whether they would view a warship or a merchant vessel as more secure. Any idea as to what this "special cargo" was would also have been helpful. The captain shrugged; his was not to question why, after all.
"What's the word, captain? Are we going?" Oberleutnant Hans-Peter Keller was the commander of the boarding party. He and his men were anxious to get underway, and Reinhardt didn't blame them. If they had come all the way out here for nothing....
"Unless you think you can make 10 knots in those rubber dingeys of yours, we have to get them to stop first, herr leutnant", he replied evenly. The younger officer shook his head and slid back down the hatch below. Capt. Reinhardt turned back to the merchant ship. It looked like there were a couple sailors on the rear deck who had taken a keen interest offboard somewhere...

HIMS Gadsan

Commodore Hansfield read the last message, his own worry increasing. "Damn it," he whispered, half to himself and half to Captain Fitzpatrick. "Not going to back down, are they?"

"It would appear not, sir," agreed Fitzpatrick, eying Hansfield. The Commodore stood and paced quickly.

I can't believe their audacity, he thought, eyes roving over the dedicated bridge crew, stopping us twice. To be honest, I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Still, that ship carries the firepower of my entire fleet, and then some. And, if I had to guess at their armor, I'd say that our Javelin torpedoes are the only thing with a hope of punching through. And by the time we stuck enough torps in it - assuming we could - those big guns would have shattered my fleet, killed far too many young Iansislean sailors. I owe them more than that...

Hansfield looked up at Fitzpatrick. "Prepare to order a full stop. Inform the Germans that they are welcome to tour the Gadsan, to verify that we are not British, nor on our way to British waters."

Fitzpatrick saluted smartly, walking to the inter-fleet wireless while the young ensign patched Hansfield's words over to the Brunswick.
_________________

S.S. Capable

"I'm not sure what to make of it, rightfully," replied Thomas, lowering his glasses. “Looks like a ship, though I’ve never seen anything quite like it. We ought to report this."

Keeler nodded in agreement. “You go forward and tell the watch officer. I’ll keep an eye on it.”

Thomas scurried off, and Keeler kept watch on the...whatever it was. His eyes strained to keep track of the thin outline between the black sky and the blacker water. A minute or two after Thomas had started picking his way forward, Keeler felt the big merchantman’s engines reverse.

Odd...why are we stopping?

Capt. Von Walshstein read over the latest message from the convoy's commander. It seemed odd to him that he was not in better spirits. The man was torn between conflicting emotions; on the one hand, he was relieved that the Brunswick and the ships of Iansisle would not come to violent confrontation, and that his mission could now be completed. On the other, he was disgusted at the use of such gross deception of an honorable opponent. Von Walshstein was the scion of a proud naval tradition, his father having served in the Kaiser's High Seas fleet and at Jutland. He had never served aboard a U-boat; indeed, he viewed the little (but undeniably lethal) vessels as the military equivalent of a knife in the enemy's back. Von Walshstein was a firm believer in the old military tennants of meeting the enemy face to face and with honor, and he found missions such as this distasteful.
"Send them our thanks, and inform them we will be aboard presently." The captain turned to his First Watch officer. "You have command untill I return."
The younger officer swallowed hard. It had always been the plan that he, not Von Walshstein, would play the role of the Brunswick's "captain" during the operation, since it was entirely likely the men sent to the Gadsan would not be returning to the ship if things went badly. However, the First officer was much like his captain in that he believed in fighting the enemy on open terms.
"Yes sir." He rendered the old navy salute to his superior; Von Walshstein returned it and made for the lower deck.

Capt. Reinhardt spun on Lt. Keller.
"Get your men in the water, Lt. We're moving in on the merchant off our bow; that's your target. We'll submerge and give you what cover we can."
Keller nodded; formalities like saluting were largely ignored in a unit like the Flottenkommandos. The raiders assembled on the U-boat's deck pushed their black rubber rafts overboard and began paddeling for their target. Reinhardt turned, and with some effort, made out U-227 releasing her own troops into the sea.
"Prepare to dive! Set depth for 12 meters, and ready the tubes!"
Reinhardt slid below, shutting the hatch as water began to cover the deck of the diving U-boat. The diesel engines were secured, and U-155 sank beneath the waves, leaving only her periscope and its tiny wake behind it.
The kommandos paddled quickly for the Capable. The black rubber rafts were difficult to make out against the ever darkening seas, and their black uniforms and paint-smeared faces made them nearly invisable as well. They knew the crew of the merchantman would likely be taking in the spectacle provided by the Brunswick; with any luck, they could board with no one the wiser. If anyone decided to take a stroll along the rear deck, however...

OOC: Do you mind if I write my nation in to this?

HIMS Gadsan

"Commodore, shall I send the message to the Walmingtonians?" asked the baby-faced ensign at the radio. Hansfield still hadn't learned his name.

"Not yet, ensign, not yet. There's no telling what an encoded wireless message to a foreign power may trigger if their intentions are honorable," replied the Commodore, straightening his tie. "Captain, with me. Have a small squad of marines - no more than three, mind you - meet us down on the deck." Fitzgerald nodded, and put the request to Gadsan's small garrison.

Together, the flag and commanding officers walked down to the main deck, the Royal Marines joining them almost at once. Fitzgerald spotted the boat first, and had the marines toss lines down to it.

S.S. Capable

Keeler looked forward, losing track of the contact as Thomas returned somewhat noisily with the watch officer. Lt. Whitter had the reputation for being an unforgiving, almost cruel officer. Some said it was his heritage - the Whitter family had served in his His Majesty's Navy as officers since the days of tall ships and floggings. Whittier never let them forget that his however-great relative had served aboard the 5th-rate frigate HIMS Nestor when she had captured the 2nd-rate ship of the line HES Durand off Sentry Island during the last Effitian invasion.

"Glad you could make it, sir," greeted Keeler, saluting. Whitter grunted. "Ah, I've been seeing something rather odd off the stern, sir. Here, take a look." Keeler handed the surly lieutenant his glasses, and Whitter swung them back and forth over the water.

"Don't see anything."

"It's there, sir," replied Keeler, taking the glasses and sweeping them back and forth. "What in tarnation? It was there!"

"Damn it man!" shouted Whitter. "There's a ship stopping the convoy, and you call me back here to look at ghost ships? Get forward, you fool!" Whitter stalked forward, bellowing as loud as he could about damn enlisted men and the damn Germans.

Keeler glanced one last time over the water. Thomas shrugged at him, then both headed forward to see what had the lieutenant in such an anti-Teutonic rage.

(edit: Technophobes, you're welcome by me, but it is D.K.'s RP, so I suppose his word would be final. He seems real easy going, if you're good about it.)

OOC-Technophobes, you're more than welcome to join in. Hope you enjoy this as much as I am.

IC-Lt. Keller smiled; the rear deck was deserted. One less thing to worry about....
Keller gave the signal, and the forward man fired the grappeling hook at the rear railing. The rifle mounted hook sailed over the rail and snagged. Quickly, the kommandos began climbing the rope ladder up to the rear deck of the Capable. The first man up took a quick peek over the rail. Seeing no one, he slid over the rail and motioned the others up. Within minutes, ten heavily armed boarders crouched on the Capable's deck. Quietly moving forward to allow the others room to board, the kommanos secured the rear deck of the freighter. It seemed that all the sailors had moved to the front of the ship to keep an eye on the situation with the Brunswick. The kommandos moved toward the front of the ship, checking cabins and staterooms for resistance.
As the men reached the enterance to the holds, they ran smack into a squad of Iansislian Royal Marines coming up from below. The two groups stood face to face for a moment, too startled to react. Then both went for their weapons. The kommandos orders were clear; no one must identify them as agents of the Reich.

S.S. Capable

"All I'm saying, sarge, is that..."

"Davids, you've been asking that for the last twenty minutes. No, you can't go forward."

"Aw, come off it, sarge," whined Davids, adjusting his uniform. Although Royal Marines were technically part of the Royal Iansislean Army Corps, not the Navy, they wore tunics of naval blue, rather than the standard khaki.

"One more word, private," warned Sergeant Edwardson, leading the four men around a corner, "and I'll...I'll....what the hell?" His small squad had just run smack into a large group of...of somebody! They weren't RMM sailors, he knew that much. After a brief pause in which both parties must have contemplated what to do.

Edwardson, his squad rushing to follow suit, brought his M74B (as the M74A, but with a 15 rather than 10 round magazine) rifle up. "Halt and identify yourselves in the name of the King!"

(ooh, ooh! [Fidgets] Terribly tense, isn' it? They're stealing the plane, they're stealing the plane! If this happened a few months from now they'd probably have run across Walmingtonian warships on patrol, but noo, Britain and Germany have to go to war before Walmington's ready :) )

(Ack, y'all get back and I have to run off! :cry: Can't wait to see the reply when I return!)

The kommandos aboard the Capable didn't waste time asking for the marines surrender; their MP-18's cut through the silence onboard like a knife. The bolt action rifles of the Royal Marines had a big advantage over the SMG's in range and power, but at close range the Bergmann had devastating firepower. The marines, clustered in the entry to the hold, were cut down in a hail of bullets. Two of the kommandos were hit as well, the heavy bullets inflicting grievous wounds. The boarders rushed down into the hold, taking their fallen with them. A small force stayed behind to secure the enterance behind them. More kommandos made for the bridge, intent on silencing the radio before the Capable could send a destress call.
Once in the hold, the kommandos split up. Working quickly, they engaged the marines and secured the hold, losing several of thier number in the process. Once the opposition was gone, they took stock of what the merchant was carrying. (OOC- I have no idea how this thing is being transported, whether parted up in crates or whole.)
The kommandos headed for the bridge moved as fast as possible. A firefight broke out as they were spotted coming up on the control tower, but the merchant sailors could little be expected to put up effective resistance against their opponents. Soon the ship was under German control; whether the Capable had been able to signal her distress or if anyone had seen the fighting was still in question.

Onboard the Gadsan, Capt. Von Walshstein went through the motions of checking the Iansislian warship for her papers and making sure all was in order. For his part, he had to admit the commander and his crew maintained a high level of professionalism during the whole ordeal. After he had done everything the Iansislian commander would have expected him to, he gathered up his men and prepared to get underway.
"Commodore, I wish to thank you and your crew for your cooperation. I hope in the future, relations between our nations can return to a less strained footing, but in the current situation, I'm afraid all of this is an unpleasant necessity. I hope you understand that I hold you and your men in the highest regard, but I have a duty to obey my orders."
With that, Von Walshstein turned and headed back for the launch that would return him to his ship, where he intended to file a formal complaint with his superiors.

S.S. Capable

Forward...

Keeler and Thomas looked at each other in shock. Gunfire had erupted aft, both a chattering noise and the heavy bark of M74B rifles. The same thing shot through both their minds - The contact! Thomas nodded at Keeler, and they rushed back to the bridge as one.

Keeler shouted for Thomas to guard the door, swinging through past the the helmsman, who was frozen in shock. Keeler picked up the handset on the wireless, but before he could depress the transmit button, Thomas was shot, bright red blood staining his navy blue uniform. As the body fell over the rail, a black suited figure replaced it in the doorway, holding some sort of weapon at Keeler. The man shouted something - Keeler couldn’t understand what. The helmsman fell to the floor, sobbing in fright, but Keeler remained standing. The man shouted again, then shot Keeler in the chest.

As he fell, Keeler’s fingers closed around the transmitter, either by instinct or muscle spasm. The handset was ripped off the set, wires snapping as it snapped free. The German Kommando rushed to Keeler’s side, prying his fingers loose. A sigh of relief was breathed - the transmitter hadn’t been depressed.

(ooc - I think that’s a pretty happy medium. No message to the rest of the fleet, but when Gadsan orders speed again, Capable won’t be able to reply. If you think there’s anything too improbably / impossible in this sequence of events, tell me and I’ll change it.)
_________

The Cargo Hold...

The two marine sentries tasked to guard the MPAF-6 rushed forward at the sound of gunfire, but they were quickly cut down by German submachine guns. Silently, the Kommandos moved into the massive space, designed to hold 12,000 tons of cargo. Now, however, it was almost empty.

Almost.

A single large crate, forty by forty by twenty feet, sat in the center of the cavernous space, ‘TOP SECRET’ stamps adorning the sides.
___________

HIMS Gadsan

Commodore Hansfield saluted the German officer, seeing them over the side. Well, that wasn’t too painful, he thought, walking with Fitzgerald back to the bridge. He settled into his familiar seat, nodding at the young officers. “Helm, take us up to fourteen knots once the Germans are away. Comm, order the rest of the fleet to do the same.”

OOC- Not at all. The outcome is fine with me, if it's ok with you.

Leutnant Keller stepped into the command room of the Capable, taking measure of the situation aboard the captured vessel. The operation thus far had gone off almost without a hitch. The crew had been subdued with few casualties among the kommandos, and the security of the attack did not seem to be compromised. The radio was disabled, as planned for, without having sent an SOS. Looking out from the control tower revealed the Brunswick preparing to leave the scene. So much for our heavy gun support, thought Keller. This is going to get interesting...
"Sir, there's a message coming in over the wireless! The convoy's preparing to get underway, and they want all vessels to check in."
Keller had expected this, and had planned accordingly.
"Get a man forward with the signal lamp. Have him send a message saying that the radio is out of comission, but we are ready to sail. Get a man rear and signal to U-155 to prepare to support us if necissary."
The solders moved with speed born from extensive training and preparation; each knew his duty and didn't hesitate. The casualties were taken to the rear of the rear deck and lowered to the rafts waiting below, where they would be picked up by the U-boats waiting submerged behind the convoy. The signalmen moved to send the false message to the commodore, and Keller moved below to take stock of the "Top Secret" cargo the ship was carrying.

HIMS Gadsan

"Commodore, the fleet's underway," reported the raido operator, looking back at Hansfield, who nodded. "No word from Capable, though. Aft watch reports that they signaled - wireless is out of order." Hansfield didn't frown, or give the report much credit, but rather stored it away. A wireless malfunction was hardly unusual at sea, if not common. Slowly, the convoy began to eat up the distance to Walmington again.
__________________

(ooc notes: The flyer is being transported whole in that crate. There should also be an R.I.F.C. Flying Officer running about, who was supposed to operate the craft upon arrival to W.o.S. He'd be able to tell you all about it, unless he's dead (your call). Also, 'Top Secret' in Iansisle is not really all that top secret - most every crewman and marine, if any were taken alive, can give you a bit of information about what the cargo is. Or you can just open the crate.)

OOC-Basically the most pressing question I have is whether or not any production documents or blueprints are onboard with this thing. It's going to be tricky getting the whole aircraft out of here (I still don't know how I'm going to pull that off :roll: ), but any documents of that nature would be invaluable to me. Your Air Force officer would not have been killed unless he was armed and fighting back, basically; I imagine no one but the marines and the unfortunates in the wheelhouse were killed during the raid.
IC-Keller and his men had finished tearing the crate in the hold apart, and stood looking at their prize. The aircraft was beautiful, with graceful lines and curves; as much a work of art as an instrument of war. The fact that she appeared to be devoid of props or engines did not concern the kommando officer; he didn't plan to fly the thing out of here, anyway. Exactly how he was going to do that he hadn't yet figured out. Keller couldn't help but laugh; in the back of his mind, maybe he hadn't really expected to make it this far. It had been such a long shot, after all.
"Look around for anything we can take with us, if we need to send this tub to the bottom. Blueprints, technical documents, even the bill of sale could be helpful at Abwehr headquarters. Find it; we've gotta be off this thing before we leave Reinhardt and our ride home choking on our wake."
The kommandos busied themselves with turning the cargo hold upside down. Keller ran back topside, and gave the order to prepare to abandon and scuttle the Capable. The crew were rounded up and taken to the rear deck, where the lifeboats were readied for sea. Keller had questioned whether to put the crew off the boat before sinking her, or simply to shoot them and leave them in the holds for a ride down to a watery grave; his orders had stated no one must identify the attackers, after all. In the end, human nature won out, and he simply told the crew to start paddling for the Gadsan when he dropped them. The rudder was jammed strait ahead, and the engine set for a sedated 5 knots. Keller ran back to the enterance to the holds, anxious to be gone. Kommandos slid down the hatch, carrying the satchels containing the scuttling charges. They would be placed on the hull of the merchant, and when the time was right, blown to let in the sea and send her crashing to the ocean floor, destroying the evidence of the attack. Unless you count the crew; they're the only loose end... Keller again toyed with the idea of ordering them below and dispaching them, but decided again that if the operation ended poorly and he was captured, he would rather be a POW than a war criminal.
"Found anything yet!?"
"Nothing yet, sir!"
"Keep looking! We're gonna scuttle the ship, and I DON'T intend to leave here empty-handed!"

S.S. Capable

Flying Officer Michael Bell was nervous as the crew was ordered to lifeboats. The Germans hadn't noticed anything unusual about him - yet. Though he had thought to remove his wings and R.I.F.C. insignia - why else would they be here than the flyer? - his uniform was still the bright crimson of the flying corps, rather than the blue of the marines or the white of the sailors. Capable's crewmen did the best to hide him, but the Kommandos were sure to notice as he boarded a lifeboat.

In the meantime, a Kommando peaked into the captain's quarters. There was a scale model of HIMS Diomedes - Iansisle's first modern battleship - a small smattering of navigational charts and equipment...and a small safe.

(In the safe would be seventy generals, in 10 Gnl pieces, the manifest for Capable, a copy of the orders Jones was reading back on page one, and a large, sealed package marked 'TOP SECRET' and stamped with the Graye AeroFlyers corporate logo, containing technical specifications, pricing information and other such goodies.)

OOC-Sorry it took so long to reply to this. I had some technical difficulties, and this is the first chance I've had to get on and check developments.

IC-Keller stood looking at the safe one of his men had discovered in what he assumed was the captain's cabin. He had instructed his men to grab the captain, or anyone who looked out of place, and bring them to the cabin immediately. There wasn't much time left; soon the other ships in the convoy would notice Capable wasn't keeping pace with the rest. Keller had to act fast if he was going to complete his mission sucessfully.
In a few minutes, the kommandos brought someone into the cabin. Dressed in a red uniform (Keller didn't know how he could have missed something like that), he certainly didn't look like a sailor. The kommandos moved him in front of the safe before taking up their positions outside the door.
"Ah, just the man I wanted to see. I don't suppose," Keller said, turning to the young man, "that you know the combination to this safe, do you?"
The red-suited man didn't appear in any mood to cooperate. Keller sighed; he always hated this part. Drawing his C-96 "Broomhandle", he struck the man a sharp blow across the face. His legs gave out from under him, and he spilled onto his hands and knees, spitting blood. Keller grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and hauled him to his feet. I don't want to kill you, friend, he thought. But you've got to know I'm serious...
"Now that we've got that out of the way, we can get down to business. There are two options here, friend. Either you open this safe, or you're going to the bottom of the Atlantic with it."
Keller shoved the man forward, into the safe.
"I suggest you get to work; you don't have a lot of time."

OOC-I don't know if this guy has the combination to the safe or not. I suppose the captain would, but is he alive or not? I don't know what would have become of him, but I'll see if I can round him up in the next installment, maybe. And another thing; when you say "small" safe, how small do you mean; ie. could four people carry it onto a raft and not sink with it? If he can't get this thing open, I'd rather take the whole safe as opposed to doing this risky operation all for nothing more than to see if I can pull it off.
On a totally different subject, I used my downtime today to watch "Heavy Metal" on the History Channel, which I haven't gotten to do in a while. They had a really interesting segment on today about Tiger tanks, and a piece about Michael Wittman, the German Tiger ace. I don't know if your familiar with his exploits, but it makes for very good reading. That's all for now.

(ooc- sorry about the RIFC officer - you could just say that the sailors were hiding him :) And don’t worry about the reply time - seems as if I’ve hardly been on at all today, either. I don’t think Bell would know the safe combination, but it’s small - call it 2’ tall by 1’ long by 1’6” deep. I’m sure you could fit it on a small raft. Feel free to steel Bell if you need / want to, as well.)

S.S. Capable

Flying Officer Bell slammed into the safe, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know the damn combination, you murderous Hun (or other appropriate slander, if we don’t know you’re German)!” he exclaimed, spitting at Keller’s feet. “Captain McDunn was the only one who did, and he’s dead - stabbed in the back, I’d venture!” He struggled to regain his feet.

HIMS Gadsan

“Commodore?” asked the wireless operator.

“Aye?” Hansfield shook his head quickly - had he been dozing off?

“Barbara Jay reports that Capable’s running slow, sir.”

“Indeed? Is there wireless still down?”

“We’ve not had any report to the contrary, sir,” replied the ensign, a touch insulted that Hansfield though he wouldn’t report on something as important as that.

“Hrmph,” grunted Hansfield. “Send a flasher back - ask them if they’re having engine troubles. In the meantime, I’m heading to my quarters for a quick nap before our approach to Walmington. Wake me if anything important happens.” With that, he levered himself up, walking with relative disinterest off the bridge. Wireless troubles are bad enough, but the engines too? Capable must be an unlucky gal.

Lt. Keller smirked and shoved his pistol back into its holster. Definitely not the way I wanted to do this, but at least I know he's telling the truth. The kommandos outside the cabin quickly took Bell back to the rear deck, where the last lifeboats were being loaded. Quickly spilling him into the boat, the kommandos lowered it into the water, and set it on its way.
The safe was quickly removed from the cabin and placed on the first raft to leave the Capable. As the first group of kommandos made their way back to U-155 with their precious cargo, the team in charge of the demolitions placed the last satchel on the Capable's main boiler. This charge they set for a minute shorter than the others; hopefully, it would appear to outside observers that the ship encountered engine trouble that quickly got out of control, causing her eventual sinking. The truth would not be known untill her crew was rescued... which would hopefully give the kommandos time to escape in their U-boats. The fuses were lit, and the last men hastily made for the rear deck. Sliding down the rope ladder to the last raft, they began paddling quickly for the open sea. For a few moments, disorientation struck them; with no landmarks for navigation, it was not easy to locate the waiting U-boats. A flash of light from U-155's signal lamp helped guide them in. As the crew approached the boat, the first of the charges detonated within the Capable's engine room, splitting her boiler wide open. Superheated steam poured out of the cargo hold, creating a dense cloud 40' high. One minute later, the other charges exploded, tearing great holes in the merchantman's hull below the waterline. The sudden influx of water caused the ship to drop almost 6' in a matter of seconds, and turned her hard to starboard. Soon, her stern was pointing to the sky, and the Iansislian merchant slid beneath the sea.
Aboard U-155, Capt. Reinhardt and the crew hauled the exhausted kommandos aboard and prepared to get underway before the convoy found out what was going on. The U-boats separated, with U-227 heading northwest and U-155 making her way east, hoping to make it back to port as quickly as possible. OKW had ordered her to make the shortest way home she could; that would mean a risky trip through the Channel, with Britain and France flanking both sides of the route. Capt. Reinhardt ordered full speed, while Keller and his men took their valuable cargo below.

OOC-I hope you're ok with the results of this. The U-boats are still in the area, so if your commodore acts fast, he could very well catch them. Although I'm not sure what he would do if he did that; you said earlier that the convoy's ASW capabilities are..... limited, to say the least. The Royal Navy would also have certainly been attracted to the radio traffic in the area, and would probably send at least a few destroyers and aircraft into the area to see what they find, so there's another option if you can contact them. I'm looking forward to seeing what comes next.

HIMS Hector
Holding position forward and starboard of Capable

Able Seaman Harold Fullerman watched the Gadsan's signal. Engine trouble on the Capable, eh? he thought. Doesn't surprise me - they've been having some trouble, seems. Fullerton swung his glasses over to Capable, then blinked in shock. Her lifeboats were out, and full, as well.

The the Capable burst into a starry tongue of flame, reaching upwards from her boiler room. Fullerman stumbled back a pace, watching in mute shock for a second. Then - "Explosion! Explosion on the Capable!"

It took a minute for his frenzied shouts to reach Hector's bridge, but the largish destroyer began to come about at long last. Fullerman was joined a second later by Able Seaman Lance Joiners, a close friend.

"Christ almighty! Look at that! There won't be many survivors!"

"Check that, Lance. Plenty of 'em - they were all in the boats before she went up."

"Before...they knew it was coming?"

"Search me. We have to assume so."

Hector was the first Iansislean ship to reach the shipless sailors, and began cranking them up one by one. There stories didn’t make much sense - they were too shocked by the cold of the Atlantic and the tremendous explosion to be any help. One officer in an R.I.F.C. uniform, however, was screaming out at the top of his lungs.

“They took it all! They got everything!” he bellowed, waving his arms about. Two of Hector’s crew quickly moved to restrain him. “Let go of me, you bastards! They got it, don’t you damn well understand?”

“Who got what, sir?” asked Captain Howard Galloway, who had quietly arrived on the scene. All action in the confused rescue stopped, eyes concentrating on the dignified old skipper.

“Well, ah, sah,” started Bell, much sedated, “I’m not really sure, to tell true. But they got the safe on Capable - the plans for the MPAF-6, poor Captain McDunn’s general horde - everything.”

“And where is Captain McDunn?” asked Galloway, his voice still chilled.

“He’s dead, sah. Shot, I believe, while trying to defend the ship.”

“Defend it from whom, damn you!” burst out Galloway, his calm face dissolving in impatience.

“I don’t know!” returned Bell, matching tones, “They were there one second, and gone the next! Er, they had rafts! I saw them from the lifeboat!”

“Turn on all searchlights!” ordered Galloway firmly, not waiting to see what Bell was about to add. “Standard search pattern!”

Capt. Reinhardt, keeping watch on the deck of U-155, had seen the whole operation from start to finish. The explosion on the Capable had come as little suprise to him; Keller was a resourceful young officer, and knew how to do his job well. The cargo the kommandos had brought back with them had been unexpected, to be sure; why they hadn't just opened it and taken whatever it held was beyond Reinhardt. None of that was inportant right now, however; unless they made a clean escape, it wouldn't matter much what was in that safe.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than searchlights from the Iansislian warships lanced through the dark. Miraculously, one had been pointing strait at U-155; the ship was caught full in the powerful beam. Within seconds, lights from other ships found the U-boat as well. Of all the stupid luck!
"ALARM!"
Reinhardt slid below, pulling the hatch shut as he did so. The crew frantically worked to take the boat under, where she would be hidden from the destroyer's view, and they would have at least a chance of working free of the escorts. ASW techniques had not evolved much past those used during the Great War, and Reinhardt knew at least how to deal with those. His deck gun would have been little use against a destroyer, anyway.
The last thing the Iansislian destroyers saw was the grinning shark which Reinhardt had taken as his standard slipping beneath the waves. Then the waters were still; indeed, if one hadn't seen the ship there moments before, it might not seem as though there had been anything to see.
"Take us to 80 meters, Chief. I want to be able to get under their depth charges if they decide to give us a hard time."
The crew sat tensely at their battle stations, waiting to see if they would be discovered, whether death would rain down on them from up above, waiting to see if they would ever see home again.

HIMS Hector

"What the...A SUBMERSIBLE!" exclaimed Captain Galloway, looking in shock at the black form his light had illuminated. “Guns, ready to fire on that ship!” Hector’s 4.1” gun battery slung around, ever so slowly. No sooner had it trained on the u-boat than their target was gone, a grinning shark mocking them. Galloway had the guns give a blast anyway, shells ripping into the empty ocean where the submersible had been moments ago.

“Get on the horn to the Commodore,” ordered Galloway, his voice now calm again, despite the pain he felt for having lost the target. “Tell him what has happened here - and ask that he put out a general help beacon for any friendly ships in the area. Ask who operates submersibles - the dirtiest, most lowdown rotten cheater’s weapon of war - in this part of the world.”

HIMS Gadsan

Hansfield rubbed his face in exasperation. They had lost the Capable, the flyer, and now the submersible. Another dark chapter for Iansislean naval history, he thought glumly as he ordered the wireless operator to send out a broad beam help beacon, as well as send that encoded help request to Walmington on Sea.

Destroyer HMS Courageous, the North Atlantic

Capt. Jason Conrad grabbed the wireless report from his radio operator, glancing over the previous hour's traffic. The last item on the report caught his eye; a distress call from an Iansislian convoy.
"When did this come in, Seaman?"
The radioman glanced at the report, looking at which message the Captain was refering to. The time of the message was clearly noted in the margin of the page. which he dutifully pointed out to his superior. The captain shook his head, abashed but not about to admit his mistake to a lowly enlisted man.
"Send a reply to the convoy's commander, asking him what the disturbance is." The captain turned to his navigator, and instructed him to plot the position of the convoy, as well as an intercept course should the need arise.

Great Walmington, WoS

"I knew this day would come, Wilson, didn't I say? Jerry's up to his old tricks again!"

"I believe you mentioned it once or twice, sir. Though, I don't think we know Jerry to be at fault, do we?"

"Oh don't be absurd, Wilson. It wasn't us, and I'm quite sure it wasn't Britain. Who else? The French?"

"Well.."

"Do get along, man.." interrupted the PM, picking up his phone and waving Wilson away.

The North Atlantic, between WoS and the Irish west coast - HMWS Iansisle

Captain Pike received his orders to dispatch to the scene one of the destroyers assisting in his escort of merchants to Britain, having only a few minutes previously intercepted the beacon itself.

"Signal the Stockshire" the young captain ordered "Have her proceed at full steam to lend assistance."

Pike watched with a degree of pride as his beloved old Stockshire broke away from the convoy and made off into the dark.

(Stockshire is of Walmington's I Class destroyers, fitted with depthcharge throwers and fairly basic detection gear. I'm less expert in this sort of thing, but I'd venture she's better suited to tracking U-boats than the Iansisle vessels, while perhaps still inferior to many 'real' destroyers of the day in that respect. She's probably got a fair bit of sailing to do before even coming close anyway. And excuse my excessive rambling- I have a cracking headache to-night)

HIMS Gadsan

"Commodore? A message - two of them, actually."

"Indeed?"

"Aye, sir, from a British destroyer - the Courageous - asking what our disturbance was. Another from Walmington on Sea - the destroyer Stockshire is on its way, sir."

"Better than could be expected. Send another wireless to the Courageous - tell her that a boarding party came aboard our merchantman, stole important documents, and sunk her."

"Aye, sir. Shall I tell what those important documents pertained to?"

"No, by all means! Be as vague as you can - if pressed, cite national security! In the meantime, can we get a message to the Admiralty?"

"No, sir, not with wireless, we can't. Erm, we could always send it to the Walmingtonians, and have them wire it over to Ianapalis."

Hansfield sighed. "Well, that's better than nothing. Send a brief report, and see if they'll forward it for us. And do try not to mention about the flyer over open band, will you?"

"Aye, Commodore, sir."

Of course WoS fully co-operates in relaying any messages from Gadsan to Ianapalis, as the Stockshire closes on the convoy at over thirty knots.

Aboard HMWS Iansisle Captain Pike begins to regret not joining the Stockshire, a feeling reinforced as he receives word from Southend that the convoy in distress is believed to have been carrying cargo of importance to Walmingtonian security.

Pike makes known his intention to have the Iansisle break with the convoy on the way home, should the situation not have been resolved by that time. Perhaps he'll linger at Liverpool, perhaps he'll steam for the scene of the troubles.

(Presumably there's precious little an old battleship can add to proceedings, but Pike has nothing better than escort duty to put his ship to, and Walmington's increasingly eagre to be seen as a 'big dog'. Flashing warships about is seen as a way of promoting that image.)

Conrad read over the reply from the HIMS Gadsan, his frown deepening. A boarding party had siezed the merchant Capable, captured some sort of high-value cargo, and blown the ship sky-high, all right under the noses of her escorts? It seemed like something out of a work of fantasy, but Capt. Conrad had no reason to doubt the report. Whoever pulled this off had brass balls, he thought.
One other item caught the captain's eye; the report said that the raiders had made their excape in a submarine.
That pointed to only one party; Germany, and their rumored naval commando force.
"Helm, increase to flank speed. Inform the Gadsan that we will be at their location with all possible speed."

The Admiralty
Ianapalis, Iansisle, the Commonwealth

Rain pelted at the ancient brick of the Admiralty building, obscuring the view of even Jameston Place, just across Empire Street. Grand Admiral Sir Richard Tri - commander of all His Majesty's Fleets - sat at his desk, wishing he could go to sleep. Sleep was always hard while young men were deployed about the globe - perhaps living, perhaps dying - at his command. He was just pouring a spot of tea when there was a quiet knock on his door.

“Come.” His heavy oaken door swung open, Captain Scott L. Conroy stepping quickly through. Before the door had even hit the jam, Conroy was flashing a salute.

“Report for you, sir. From the Friendship Fleet, by way of Walmington.”

Tri accepted the sheet of paper, looking at Conroy with an arched eyebrow. “They’re in Walmington already? Hansfield must have burst some turbine...some....oh, hell.” Tri’s eyes grew wider as he read the report. “Conroy, what’s operation’s take on all this?”

“We recommend a show of force, sir,” replied the middle-aged career officer, without a twitch.

“Indeed? What sort of force, Conroy?”

“Sir, the Grand Fleet’s not had any action since Salvador. Operations would like to send them on a good-faith tour to Walmington. And make that delivery properly.”

“I take it that good-will is the last thing on anyone’s mind for this good-will tour?”

“You could say that, sir. The ability to show the power to influence events as far away as the Atlantic wouldn’t go without benefit, either.”

Tri groaned and sat heavily. “What ships do you have planned for this ‘tour’, Conroy?”

“Well, sir, the Undauntable, of course. The Salvador as well, escorted by Shield, Tharia, and Dianatran. Also, the first two ships of the Protector-class - Protector herself and Legendary are ready for deployment. We could fill out the rest of the fleet with Aegean and Delton classes - call it Andromache, Odysseus, Diomedes, Delton, Ianapalis, Empire, and Coastal Paradise. Under the command of Admiral Sir Kennington - “

“Hold it right there,” said Tri. “Admiral Kennington’s set to be retired soon. The last thing he’d want is to charge off to the Atlantic - assuming the Walmingtonians even agree to something like this.”

“With all due respect, sir, Admiral Sir Kennington’s the best man for the job. He’s our most experienced fleet admiral, the Lord Commander of the Grand Fleet, and a veteran of Salvador, Galloquoi, and Augsburg. We could sail in two weeks time. Walmington’s go-ahead is needed of course - and America’s.”

“What do the bloody Yanks have to do with anything?”

“We need them, sir - or rather, we need their canal. Panama’d cut weeks of the journey. All we need to do is to get Foreign Affairs to get RM&M to cut petroleum and coal exports to Japan -”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” bellowed Tri. “Damn it man, do I have to remind you that the Japs have a base not sixty miles south-west of Tharia? The last thing we need is their yellow wrath descending upon us with the damn fleet off running circles in the Atlantic! There must be a way to get both on board.”

“I’m open to suggestions, sir.”

"Helm, increase to flank speed. Inform the Gadsan that we will be at their location with all possible speed."

HIMS Gadsan

"Sir, the British destroyer HMS Courageous reports that it is on its way. Also, HMWS Iansisle - the King Ian I, with Walmingtonish modifications - has indicated a desire to join us."

"Well, with Capable gone, this convoy has no reason to head to Walmington at once, does it?"

"No sir - well, Hector, Antilochus, and Ajax are a mite low on coal, sir."

"We have a coaler in the fleet, do we not?"

"Well, yes, sir, but in-transit recoalings are not looked on favorably by the Admiralty..."

"Damn the Admiralty! I want those ships recoaled, now, and sent out in search patterns. Coordinate with the commanders of the destroyers, and get a search flyer in the air. PIERCE! The radar!"

"Working, sir," came the muffled reply, which was followed by a clanging noise.

Hansfield resumed pacing. "They're bound to be running for home - probably north from here - and can't stay submerged forever. When they pop to, we'll have a surprise for them."

(ooc: Sorry about the delay - I was just watching Sink the Bismarck!, ironically enough ;) Anyhow, I’m relocating to school in Tucson tommorow morning, so I may be out of touch for a day or two.)

ooc:I'll take advantage of that time to eat and sleep :D

..or maybe I'll just work on those destroyer specs.

It's ever so long since I watched that film. Must have been the 80s, as I was down the road in Leyland ("and that's where they made the Centurions, and that's where the engines for [such and such] were built..") at my grandparents'. I played the game since, mind. Good old Beeb Micro -that computer was the same age as I [sigh]. I was terrible at it. "[i]Repulse! You're going the wrong way! What's this? Rodney reports low on fuel.. where is she? Greenland!? Oh Jesus! Why is Suffolk trying to engage Bismark alone?"


Er..I'm alright, really I am.

The office of Admiral Otto Kleinhaus was a nest of activity. Kleinhaus was the Kriegsmarine's senior strategist, and the current operation by the Flottenkommandos had shaken up his office mightily. Kleinhaus was sure that the Iansislian Navy would not take the theft of their property or the destruction of their ship lightly, but the possibility of encountering any sizable force in the Atlantic was so remote that Kleinhaus was not prepared to give it any weight at this point. The greatest threat continued to be from the Royal Navy at sea; the ground war had seemingly ground to a halt at the Siegfried Line in the West. As for the kommandos and their cargo... Kleinhaus knew the greatest risk now came from British fleet units that would undoubtedly have been attracted to the area by distress calls from the stricken convoy, and search aircraft from the Iansislian convoy. Kleinhaus needed that cargo, whatever it was, to show the OKW that the kommandos were an effective force, and could be used for missions that no one else could accomplish, provided they had operational freedom. But the U-boats used by the kommandos could not fend off a determined enemy who knew where to look for them.
"Call Admiral Raeder's office. Ask for permission for a sortie by Graf Zeppelin and Bismarck to cover the return of U-155. They'll have to get through the Channel on their own, but once through, we can put out a show of force that won't incriminate us. We can even make it look like a breakout attempt if we time it right. But get the admiral on the phone; tell him I want to meet with him within the hour."

HIMS Gadsan

The latest report from the searching aero-flyer reached Hansfield. Still no word. On the other hand, Ensign Pierce had assured him the radranger would only be down for ten more minutes.

The situation was too tense. Iansislean ships were circling to the east of the last know submersible position, powerful search lights illuminating the area. Although he knew the flyers had little chance of spotting anything, the MPAF-3Fs continued their search, returning every now and then to Gadsan for refueling.

Speaking of fuel, they were using more than Hansfield would have liked. The MPAF-3Fs were little gas guzzlers, and even their oiler was starting to warn of dropping stores. If they hadn't found anything by noon tommorow, the seach would have to be broken off.

Capt. Reinhardt stood over his desk, reviewing the contents of the safe brought back by Keller and the kommandos. Inside had been a few items; personal effects of the captain, no doubt. The real treasure had been in a manilla envelope with "TOP SECRET" stamped on the front of it. Inside, plans for some kind of aircraft were stacked up two inches thick. A venerable jackpot for the Luftwaffe, thought the captain. No wonder OKW was so hot to grab it... This looks WAY ahead of anything we've got.
Reinhardt pushed back from his desk and sat a moment, reflecting on what his discovery meant to the war. If German engineers could learn anything from these plans and apply them to aircraft currently under production, it could have a very dramatic effect on everything that followed. Reinhardt had never even seen anything remotely like what he was looking at on the desk in front of him. Whatever it was, it was obviously a hell of a lot better than anything the Luftwaffe was currently flying. While Capt. Reinhardt was a bit surprised that Iansisle would have apparently placed more weight on aircraft than naval power, given their strong naval history, he knew full well that his most pressing concern was to deliver the plans on his desk to his superiors at all costs.
The boat had been submerged for about 90 minutes now. Reinhardt had ordered a speed of only 6 knots in order to conserve as much electricity as possible, in case they ran into a destroyer force coming to Gadsan's aid. Because of this, they were still dangerously close to the site of the attack and resulting search, and Reinhardt was not willing to risk being discovered just yet. He would give it another two or three hours at least, then order the boat to periscope depth and have a look around. The hydrophones could still make out the search ships ever so faintly in the distance; soon they would be far enough away to surface and make a run for home.
U-155 continued for home, hidden from the ships above by the dark waters of the Atlantic.

HIMS Gadsan

"Damn it, Fitzpatrick, they could be anywhere out there," growled Hansfield, looking at the latest wireless report from Antilochus. "We're probably not even looking in the right places - I bet they're down there right now, laughing at us."

"Could be, sir," replied the captain, looking as impassive as ever. Hansfield glared at him, but soon forgot it. They had the radar - such as it was - working, at least. The faint, hardly seventyfive mile screen tracked impassivly, showing the location of his fleet, HMWS Iansisle and Stockshire, and HMS Courageous. Where the hell was that submersible?

(ooc: In case you're wondering why Iansisle is more advanced in aeroflight than naval affairs, blame it on the private sector. Because each new ship / refit has to be paid for with public funds, developments are slower than other sectors. On the other hand, because aeroflight is largely driven by Graye AeroFlyers (the military contractor) and Bankfield AeroFlyers (the civilian contractor), intercorporate rivalrys (Irvin Graye and Ernie Bankfield used to be partners in the early days, but have since split on a bitter note) drive rapid technological development.)

Makes sense.

HMS Courageous sailed beside the Iansislian cruiser Gadsan, her searchlights shining like fallen stars against the black water of the Atlantic. Capt. Conrad stood on the bridge, his guts clenching. If that boat's in the area, we're making ourselves a lovely target, he thought. Sailing almost fully lit felt like walking into German fleet HQ and dropping his pants to Conrad, but Commodore Hansfield had ordered that all ships were to use their searchlights as well as any listening gear they may be carrying; apparently the commodore was not intimately familiar with the capabilities of the Nazi submarines. Conrad had himself on one occasion spent the better part of four hours depth charging a U-boat off the coast of Iceland. After expending every depth charge aboard, over 120 of them, he had been certain his adversary was destroyed. A report of a moving oil slick by a spotter plane two hours later, and 30 minutes of depth charging by another destroyer had finally brought the battered U-44 to the surface, where fire from the Courageous' 6" deck guns had finished the job. Since then, the German U-boat crews had demonstrated their courage and resiliance time and again; even men like Capt. Conrad found themselves giving the crews of the little craft grudging respect.
Conrad wanted in particular to catch the U-boat that had perpitrated this incident; he figured If I can capture this boat, there's no Kraut sub in the whole navy I can't best.

HIMS Antilochus

Jones sighed. As usual, his little destroyer was last in line for recoaling. He was even starting to think that maybe Commodore Hansfield didn't like him.

At long last, with her storerooms almost empty, Antilochus was ordered to come alongside the coaler. Jones breathed a sigh of relief - he hadn't even known he was holding it - and gave the appropriate orders. They passed by Ajax - her coal stores full - who was on her way to replace Antilochus.

Jones didn't like this cat-and-mouse game, not one little bit. Why can't the bloody Germans fight on the surface like everyone else? They scared of us?

U-63's periscope cut through the water, 2000 meters off the Antilochus' starboard side (or whichever side is away from the collier). Her captain peered through the scope, trying to make out the details of the scene playing out before him. The convoy he was seeing was in a flurry of activity; it appeared that their destroyer screen was in the process of restocking their coal stores. The other ships sat huddled together in the center of the activity, with the refueled destroyers circling.... searching. Searching for what..... or whom? The captain pulled away from the scope, blinking to clear his blurred vision. He whispered for the chief to bring the boat to a stop, then turned back to the periscope. A destroyer was sailing across his field of view; the captain could hear, ever so faintly, the sharp ping of her Asdic searching for something underwater, almost certainly a U-boat. Bizarre, she's lit up brighter than Christmas. Not the safest way to hunt for a U-boat; she makes a lovely target...
The captain clenched his jaw. At this point, he had two alternatives; either he could attack the ships in front of him and take some of the pressure off whoever they were hunting, or he could take advantage of the situation to slip away from the obviously superior force. U-63 had been at sea nearly 5 months; his crew was weary and eager to be home, and his supplies were running dangerously low. If he engaged the convoy in front of him, it was a strong possibility that the destroyers would disable or damage his boat, making the passage back to base impossible. The captain sighed heavily; was it worth risking the lives of his crew for this? He didn't even know for sure who he was looking at...
"Ready the forward tubes for spread shots. 3* offset, range 3000. Be ready to fire on my command..."

One of Antilochus' search beams swept across the black water of the North Atlantic. The young seaman manning the light rubbed his eyes. They had been searching fruitlessly for much of the night, and this was the last load of coal they'd be able to take before continuing to Walmington.

The bright beam caught on something funny. One, no, two - no, three! - seperate trails, all bearing down on his ship. A less experianced naval hand may have been confused, but the three-year veteran knew at once what it was.

"Three torpedoes in the water, sir! Bearing in starboard amidships!" The lookout's cries attracted several senior officers, who gazed at the trails in horror. Connected as she was the the coal ship, Antilochus couldn't manouver better than the measly eight knots she was doing in a north-westernly direction.

So the fox is eager to prove to the hound that he has teeth, grimiced Jones, feeling quite helpless as the range clicked down.

HMWS Stockshire

As the Class I destroyer finally arrived to join the hunt for the mysterious submarine, most of her enlisted men were fueled largely by speculation.

"Germans, Albert? Now what's in it for them, eh? Why'd Jerry attack Iansisle?"

"Jerry'll attack anything, lad! What did Belgium ever do to anyone, eh?"

"Still, I'd right like to know what's so important to warrant all this fuss, eh! What do you suppose Ian was fetching old Walmington?"

"I don't know, boy" replied the bearded and weary Albert. He was growing a little tired of the younger men treating him was the book of reference for..well, everything. "I don't care, it's sunk now, and so might we be if you don't do your jobs. Ger back below!"

U-63's captain continued to peer through the scope as his boat send three eels toward the collier, which he had judged to be the best target for his spread. Without coal, those destroyers won't be much use to anyone, he thought as the hiss of compressed air sent the lethal little fish toward their target. His navigator counted down the time to the torpedo detonation, the seconds ticking by with murderous tension. The control room was silent as the time was marked down.
Sixty....... Fifty...... Fourty......
Ten....... Five..... Impact!


Nothing.
The captain looked frantically for an explosion, a plume of water, anything that would indicate a hit. The destroyer tied to the collier was a scene of frantic activity; they had obviously seen the tracks from the torpedoes, and would shortly be rushing to his location. The captain whirled to the sound operator.
"What the hell happened?"
The young sailor closed his eyes, listening closely through the rising commotion in the control room. Was it...... yes. Faintly, he could hear the hissing of compressed gas, and the whine of the torpedo's screw. Suddenly, he heard a jarring CLANG as one of the torpedoes struck the hull of the Gadsan, hidden from the U-boat by the massive coal ship.
"One of the torpedos hit the hull and broke apart! The others are still going!"
The captain cursed the magnetic pistols that had failed to set off the torpedos as they went under the collier's keel. He'd heard rumors of torpedo failures costing crews prizes, and in some cases their lives; now he knew that these were not stories by captains looking to save face for missed shots, but reality.
"Get that last fish out of the tube and arm the impact fuse! CRASH DIVE! ALL AHEAD FLANK! Take us to 150 meters, Chief! Make it fast!"
Every man who didn't have anyting better to do ran to the torpedo room, bringing down the bow of U-63 as the ship quickly dropped for the ocean floor. Soon she was gone, the wake from her periscope slowly shrinking away to nothing.

Jones watched in mute shock, praising whatever god may be looking over them, as the three torpedoes continued past the coal ship, under Antilochus, and continued running on the other side.

He took a deep breath. Right towards Gadsan.

Nothing happened.

Jones was about to collapse from shock. Their wireless operator had, of course, sent a message to the rest of the fleet, causing Antilochus' sisters to come to her aid. Ajax was the closest, her bright forward spotlights illuminating the trail the torpedoes had left, back to...nothing. A brief swirl in the Atlantic Ocean was all that marked the passing of the u-boat.

Somewhere in the distance, a German submersible captain doubtlessly flashed a smile - just as Jones noticed a fourth torpedo trail.

OOC- You seem to be a glutton for punishment here, man. Why all the torpedos? U-63 is headed for a safer depth while she reloads, which took quite a while back in the day. I'm not sure where this fourth torpedo would have come from, unless it was another U-boat. For now, I'm gonna wait and see what your opinion about this is. If you like the danger, I've got you covered; if not, just let me know.

IC-Capt. Conrad ordered Courageous away from Gadsan's side and into the area where the German U-boat was last sighted. As his ship pulled away from the Iansislian cruiser, Conrad saw the telltale wakes of three torpedos pass under the fleet collier and streak strait for Gadsan. A dull metallic thud signaled the danger was over; the torpedo had misfired. The others disappeared into the open sea.
"Come around and take us into that U-boat's position. Get ready on the Asdic, and man the depth charge racks. We'll see how tight this Kraut keeps his valves...."
Courageous turned ponderously, working her way around where the collier and the destroyer Antilochus were still tethered together.

(Oh, my mistake. I thought she fired a fourth torpedo before diving. If you want another sub in the area, by all means! I'm looking on this incident much the same way as the Battle of Salvador - an excuse to ram changes down the Admiralty's throat.)

"Hurry it up, damn you!" exclaimed Jones, waving madly at the crewmen. "There's trouble afoot!" Jones, like any commander, was attached to the Antilochus, but there were times - such as the ponderously slow transfers of coal - that he wished the Admiralty would hurry up with those next-generation destroyers. The Aegean-class felt like a relic on the open sea, surrounded by these fancy Walmingtonish and British destroyers.

OOC- I guess when the captain said "get that torpedo out", it would be easy to think that he meant fire it. In fact.....

IC-"What the hell! Are we firing during a dive?"
The captain bellowed into the intercom to the torpedo room as the last loaded forward torpedo streaked out of the tube and began its run. Firing during a crash dive was very risky; the sudden offset of ballast could send the boat into an uncontrolable dive all the way to the bottom. The torpedo room's reply came back quickly.
"Outer doors secured. Sorry sir; Wentz stumbled against the launch lever during the confusion."
The captain shook his head, disgusted. Now we've got nothing to use except our rear tube. This is getting better by the minute...
"Aft torpedo room, unload tube 5 and arm the impact fuse, if you please. Get the forward tubes reloaded with impact torpedos as well. Chief, rig for silent running, steer course 317."
As U-63 descended deeper still, the hull began to moan and pop. The sailors gasped every time the boat made the slightest sound; most had never been so deep before, and tales of captains diving too deep to escape depth charging and never surfacing had always run through their minds. One could never be sure if the next groan or pop would be the hull giving way to the thousands of pounds of pressure being exerted on the U-boat; they were only tested to 100 meters at the shipyard, a depth which they now exceeded by half.
The captain stood in the control room, where all was silent for a moment. Faintly, they could hear the screws of the destroyers circling above them, hunting for signs of their presence. The hydrophone operator sat at his station, slowly traversing the sound head, trying to keep track of the ships above.
Splash.... Splash
"Depth charges in the water", he whispered, his voice strained.

Capt. Conrad brought his ship into the area the U-boat had last been sighted in. The last torpedo fired before she slunk off to the depths had again proved to be faulty, slamming into the collier's side before breaking up and sinking. These cursed U-boats would almost be a threat if they had functional torpedos, he thought. Thank God for small favors!
The sound operators were busy at work with their gear, hunting for the sound of the U-boat's screws and the sound of its hull being slowly crushed by the increasing depth. As soon as the hydrophones picked up a contact, the Asdic was brought to bear, trying to get a more refined view of the target. Conrad knew that for all its value, Asdic was not a cureall; it could be foiled if a U-boat dived too deep. It also took skill and patience to be effective, and the Courageous' sound crew were largely new recruits assigned for training purposes. Still, within a few minutes they had picked up the sounds of the U-boat's screws and fixed well enough on its position for the destroyer to move in for a depth charge attack. The crew dropped a dozen of the 300 lb tubs of TNT, set for various depths, and waited for the fireworks to start.

:twisted: :twisted: :twisted: :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:

(I would reply more in depth to this thread, but I'd like to see what's going on in Walmington and with that east-asian crisis first. Sorry if it seems to be taking forever ;)

Plus, I don't want to spam too many out of order posts :) )

Observing from a distance the actions of the British vessesl, Stockshire closes to lend her assistance, depth charge throwers and racks at the ready.

Her first generation Walmingtonian sonar is to say the least untried, and along the way several faults provide a few split seconds of alarm before being credited to those ruddy gremlins.

(ooc:the U boat involved in that attack on Iansisle's ships, and now under attack herself is not the one fleeing with the plans, right? Not that we'd know it, I expect)

Yeah, what's up with the out-of-order posting going on today?

The U-boat currently under attack is U-63. The boat carrying the stolen plans is U-155.

ooc:apparently they re-set the forum clock for some reason, and so it thinks we're twenty hours in the..past, or something. Well, less now. By this time to-morrow I think it will have re-ordered itself and all will be well.

ooc:apparently they re-set the forum clock for some reason, and so it thinks we're twenty hours in the..past, or something. Well, less now. By this time to-morrow I think it will have re-ordered itself and all will be well.

I hope so... this time travel stuff confuses me to no end... :wink:

Matthewson nudged Jones, indicating the British destroyer. "Must be those depth-charge things that the Admiral was talking about before we left port." Jones nodded. He had been granted command of HIMS Arabian Oryx, to be completed in the second run of Tiger-class destroyers, after Antilochus was sent to the breakers. In some ways, he was dismayed - Antilochus had been his first command. In other ways, he was glad to be worthy of promotion to the most advanced class of destroyers Iansisle had ever produced.

The last bit of coal was at last taken ashore - the tender's crew had shrugged and told him they only had enough for about a 3/4th load. It had been a long trip from Ianapalis, and the sudden coal use in the North Atlantic had thwarted the Admiralty's attempt at perfect spending.

Commodore Hansfield had promised they would only have to stay until noon tommorow, to be sure they could make Walmington. As Jones watched dawn peaking over the superstructure of the British ship and the connectors were thrown off, he wished they'd be able to hunt forever.

While Jones might have wished for the hunt never to end, the crew of U-63 were thinking quite the opposite. After being rattled by two rounds of depth charging, the young crew was badly shaken. Many of the lightbulbs in the ship had broken, leaving the majority of the crew sitting in darkness. Some of the overhead pipes had also ruptured, and most everyone in the control room was soaked to the bone. Thus far, the boat had escaped any serious damage; but the captain knew that the boat was not out of danger yet. He ordered the boat deeper still; the chief looked nervously at him, but carried out the order.
U-63 descended to 200 meters, her hull groaning under the growing pressure.

OOC- How about that; I posted this message..... 7 hours from now.

bump

OOC:
Mind if I try to work myself into this one way or another?

"Captain?" said Matthewson softly.

"Yes, Commander? What is it?"

"Sir, I think we may be hidering this hunt more than helping it. I suggest we back off and let the more advanced ships do the work."

Jones winced at the suggestion, but slowly nodded. His boat was meant to destroy torpedo boats and be a threat to conventional ships, not hunt submersibles. Reluctantly, he ordered Antilochus away from the British and Walmingtonish ships.

Several miles away from the hunters, U-155's periscope broke the surface of the water. After a few minutes, her conning tower emerged. The diesel engines coughed to life, and the U-boat fled into the breaking dawn. Her crew sprang into action, manning her anti-aircraft guns in case she was spotted. Men also readied the deck gun, in the event it should be needed.
Capt. Reinhardt stood on the tower of his boat, surveying the scene. If his good luck held out, he might get out of this yet; no one seemed to have taken notice of his absence yet. Wonder what's got their attention, Reinhardt mused. Must be something big to not be after us.. Reinhardt crossed his fingers for whoever had become the focus of Iansisle's ire, and ordred his boat to continue on.

Courageous continued to depth charge U-63 relentlessly. None of the charges detonated near enough to inflict any serious structural damage, but the blasts shook the small craft like a child's rattle. Many of the young men aboard had never been attacked like this before; the British destroyer hunted them relentlessly, since it had no duties save attacking them.
Without warning, a 300 lb charge went off within feet of the battered U-boat. The message came quickly across the intercom; the blast had shattered the seals around the prop shafts, as well as the outer door of the rear torpedo tube. The boat was taking on water too fast for the crew to have any hope of saving her without surfacing. The captain knew what surfacing now would mean, but to save the lives of his crew he had no choice.
"Blow the ballast! All ahead full! Prepare to abandon ship!"
The crew looked at each other grimly. For them, it would be a British prison for the rest of the war, assuming they survived the ascent at all. The wireless operator busied himself with carrying out his orders; destruction of the Enigma and the codebooks that served as the lifeline between Fleet Command and the U-boats scattered across the Atlantic. If the British captured either, the entire Atlantic operation would be placed in dire jeopardy.
U-63 headed for the surface and an uncertain fate.

ooc:ooh, very interesting indeed! Enigma eh? I dare say WoS will be eagre to co-operate with Britain over that little affair- Information Tech is supposed to be one of our main industries, and so far it's churning out fountain pens, typewriters and wireless sets. A computer would be terribly nice!

I don't think there's much IC for me to add right now. Stockshire is dashing about near the British destroyer, but they seem to be doing most of the work, which is nice.

[waits for the next step, and looks terribly excited]

OOC- Hainan, you're more than welcome to join in, if that's ok with everyone else. Sorry I didn't say anything sooner.

IC- U-63 burst from the water, startling the sailors on the nearby hunting ships. Doing better than 17 knots, the U-boat crashed back down into the sea, submerging again for a few seconds before her ballast tanks brought her back to the surface. Almost immediately, her crew began bailing out through the conning tower and swimming away. The boat was already going down by the stern when the 6" guns aboard Courageous opened up, ripping holes in the deck of the dying ship. On the third salvo, one of the rounds impacted in the torpedo room; the resulting explosion literally tore the ship to pieces. U-63 went down in flames, along with 17 of her crew. The captain and the other survivors were quickly rounded up by the British destroyer, and Capt. Conrad reported to the HIMS Gadsan that the U-boat had been dealt with.
One of the crew of the Stockshire manages to spot and pick up the badly damaged Enigma while hunting for survivors of the U-boat. This should make for an interesting souvenir, he thinks.

(Dang, the code books have been destroyed, re-destroyed, and sunk, hehe. Still, I suppose Walmington probably never got much co-operation out of the Poles, so even the machine itself would be relatively useful.)

"'Ere, Alfred, what do you make o' this then?" Inquired young ensign Hollyoak, surveying the dented and blackened hulk he'd draged aboard.

"One of them typies, isn' it? Looks a right state, I'd chuck it overboard, lad, not much good in that state."

"Aw, it's not that bad Alf, 'sides, Jerry's meant to be good wi' gadgets like this, eh? Look, all the bits are here" he said, lifting out the rotators from their damaged housing. "No ribon left, mind!" he laughed.

Alfred seemed disinterested. The old sea dog well remembered the Great War. He'd volunteered for the Belgian army before the horrors of war drove him back to Walmington, and the merchant marine. He's since decided it was his place to defend WoS from the horrors of war on its own soil, and joined the navy in the twenties.
The uncle figure aboard Stockshire was consumed by the gravity of the situation. Walmington had just been involved in hunting a boat, apparently German, to its destruction. Looking at the young men around him he wondered what the next few years threatened to do with them.

"Nah, it'll clean up alright, make a few bob p'rhaps."

"Ehy, come on, you can't go lifting stuff from folk who're probably dead and sellin' it off." chimed in another enlisted man.

"Bah, well it'll sit nice enough on me desk anyway."

(I'm not thinking too far ahead, but if WoS should eventually break enigma (I mean, you might have Britain do it anyway, I dunno) I at least wouldn't expect you to spend all eternity having sensitive information fall into our lap- presumably in your command somewhere there's a character that could be pulled out who realises that it's a bit much of a coincidence that we seem to know everything as soon as you do. Okay, I'm rambling again.)

"There, Commodore!" exclaimed, Pierce, pointing to a small blip on the radranger. Hansfield squinted at the screen - he couldn't make heads or tails of it. "Something just appeared off the British destroyer, sir. Must be that balmy submersible."

Hansfield nodded without comprehension. The blip Pierce indicated soon vanished. "Erm, what happened?" asked the Commodore, looking from the radranger to Pierce. The young ensign frowned and fiddled with the controls.

"Must have sunk, sir. Bet the British forced her to surface, then she went under for good."

As if to validate Pierce's estimate, the wireless report from Conrad came in. During the cheering that followed, not even Pierce noticed another small blip appear on the very edge of the radranger's screen, before vanishing off to the east.

"Send our good British and Walmingtonish friends our heartfelt thanks," the Commodore was saying, "and then let's help pick up our worthy foes and get to Walminton before we run out of fuel. Grins and salutes followed, as the Gadsan and her fleet prepared turned back for Walmington. On Hector, even Flying Officer Bell had to crack a smile. They had matched wits with the best the German fleet had to offer, and won.

On Antilochus, several sodden sailors were dragged from the sea, in preperation to either be transported to Walminton or turned over to the British. Alas for Iansisle, not a single officer or man of the more than 250 spoke German.

With Stockshire turning for home, the crew survey their German prisoners, some enlisted men confronting them with a barrage of questions and abuse, before an officer eventually clears the scene.

"What're you attackin' the Ians for, eh? What'd they ever do to you, y'flaming Nazis!"

"No king, no God, no boat!"

[laughter]

"Ere, any of you boys lost a typewriter?" asked Hollyoak, a daft grin on his face, and his fingers typing on air. "No? Reckon I'll keep it then!"

"Your lot, you better not start nothin', not again." Albert's voice quiet compared to the enthused rabble he only briefly stood amongst, his gaze fixed on the prisoners for a few seconds, through eyes almost afraid.

Finally the men were sent back to their stations, and communication sent to Pike, and to Walmington, detailing the situation.

Capt. Conrad strolled onto the main deck of the Courageous. Coming up on the survivors from the destroyed U-boat, he stopped for a moment to examine the soaked and exhausted men assembled on the deck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice was telling him he was a fool, that he was missing something. The captain frowned; he wasn't a man used to doubting himself.
These are just a typical U-boat crew, Conrad thought. The chaps who pulled off that heist weren't sailors, at least not like these. They were well armed, and trained too. These fellows look like they'd have a time of taking over a lifeboat. Of course, they had just survived the destruction of their ship, but Conrad was still sure these were not the men that had hijacked and sunk the Capable. Conrad turned to his executive officer, as always, a few paces behind him.
"Get on the horn to the Gadsan. Ask for everything you can about the hijackers; ask them to send over one of the survivors of the Capable as well. And tell them to hurry, damn it!"
The junior officer turned and ran back to Courageous' control room.

OOC- I like the idea of WoS being the ones to crack open the Enigma. Be my guest!

"A message, sir," called the wireless officer. "From Captain Conrad again."

Hansfield frowned. Gadsan was recovering her last float flyer in preperation for setting off. What could the British destroyer skipper want? "Patch him through," he ordered, nodding at the young ensign and walking over. Hansfield considered the message in silence. "Well, we can't refuse them, not now. Hector's near Conrad's boat, yes? Have them send over Bell - see if he can sort out what problems they're having."

The wireless operator nodded, sending messages first to Courageous, and then to Hector. Within fifteen minutes, Flying Officer Bell was aboard the British destroyer.

As soon as Bell set foot on Courageous' deck, he was led to the prisoners still clustered near the forward turrets. Conrad stood impassively behind him, watching as shock and realization dawned on the young man's face.
"Not the ones we're looking for, are they lad?"
Conrad motioned for his XO, instructing him to relay the message to the rest of the ships. The German submariners were led down to the brig for the long ride to England.
"A fine mess this has turned into," muttered Conrad as he made his way back to the bridge. "Helm, bring us back to the Gadsan. Let's see what this Commodore Hansfield has to say about this new development."

Now miles away from the scene, U-155 continued to run on the surface. Capt. Reinhardt wanted to get as much charge on his batteries as he could in preparation for his dash through the Channel, during most of which he was sure to run submerged. The lookouts and gunners kept a sharp eye out for enemy aircraft. Most were being replaced now by the kommandos, to try and get some rest before the final leg of their journey home.

(would it still be on my radar? It is a middling set, probably equal to British models circa 1942.)

Hansfield was filled in by the time the Courageous pulled up alongside Gadsan, and was shaking with rage. The MPAF-3Fs were up again, searching haphazardly over the vast north Atlantic.

(erg...sorry about the short post, but I need sleep. Later, man ;)

Oh, and you're welcome to get away with the plans. We get a cluein to Enigma, you get the template for advanced jet power. Seems fair to me :D )

"A typical shabby Nazi trick!" exclaimed the Prime Minister when he received notification of yet another message from HMWS Stockshire, informing all concerned in Walmington that they'd made the wrong target.

This is getting out of hand mused First Defence Minister Jones, massaging his brow.

Stockshire again turned east, but was by now running fairly low on fuel. Pike had turned south with HMWS Iansisle and a light tanker, it would be a few hours before they met up with Stockshire, which was forced to reduce speed slightly lest her fuel stores expire.

I don't think that the radar would be good enough to pick up the conning tower of a U-boat (since that's all that's really above sea level) at distance, but I'm not intimately familiar with radar and what it can and can't easily pick up. Your spotter planes would have a better chance of seeing them, especially with the sun coming up.

As for WoS, it's a good thing we're not at war right now. An undefended capital ship would be almost helpless against a U-boat, although it's doubtful I could sink her even if the whole spread hit. Damn torpedo armor... And damn faulty magnetic detonators! I'll have to look into replacing those...

The HMS Courageous receives the following message from Scapa Flow, and passes it on to the other ships with her.

From: Royal Navy HQ
To: HMS Courageous

Early this morning, the battleship Bismarck, along with the carrier Graf Zeppelin and escort forces including two light cruisers left port and are heading for the Channel. While their purpose is uncertain, we have little in the way of heavy forces to counter what may be a breakout attempt. You are advised to hold your position on the western side of the Channel untill forces can be massed at your location.

OOC: sorry haven't been on much, or i would have joined earlier

IC:

The TSS Striker and her escorts, on long range patrol had just finished the last leg of the journey, and were comign about to head back to the Rouge Nation's home waters whenan officer on the destroyer noticed a cluster of blips on the radar.

"Captain, there seems to be a cluster of ships north-east of us, about 100 miles out."

"Helm, come about, all ahead two thirds. Radio, alert the escorts, and tanker, instruct them to follow us, trailing about 10 miles."

A chorus of Yes, Sirs rag out throughout the bridge, followed by the warship slowly coming about, her engines churning to life. The destroyer escorts, and tanker TSS Hauler stayed back, preparing to trail the destroyer.

(ooc:yeah, WoS has a small submarine fleet, but has never used it, nor previously faced submarines, and their understanding of the vessels' capacity and their tactics are to say the least rather obscure. The idea that a capital ship could fall to one of those little boats hasn't really been considered :? )

News of the Bismark and Graf Zeppelin steaming west has put a few lumps into Walmingtonian throats.

A nervous Mainwaring has ordered deployment of extra vessels to the area west of the channel. Walmington's relatively small navy is becoming ever more stretched, since the departure of Naval Group Ceyloba, which has already entered the Mediterranean and is unlikely to turn back now.

The destroyers Southshire and Magical, light cruiser Brighton, and battle cruiser Eastgate are making almost thirty knots, instructed against entering the channel without a direct order form the Admiralty.

OOC: sorry haven't been on much, or i would have joined earlier

IC:

The TSS Striker and her escorts, on long range patrol had just finished the last leg of the journey, and were comign about to head back to the Rouge Nation's home waters whenan officer on the destroyer noticed a cluster of blips on the radar.

"Captain, there seems to be a cluster of ships north-east of us, about 100 miles out."

"Helm, come about, all ahead two thirds. Radio, alert the escorts, and tanker, instruct them to follow us, trailing about 10 miles."

A chorus of Yes, Sirs rag out throughout the bridge, followed by the warship slowly coming about, her engines churning to life. The destroyer escorts, and tanker TSS Hauler stayed back, preparing to trail the destroyer.

OOC- You may have said this already, but what type if vessel is the Striker?

OOC: I was kinda vague about that wasn't I :oops: its a destroyer, with a gyrocopter on the back, here are the stats:

DD-1
Length: 90m
Beam: 18m
Draught: 8m
Speed: 16kts
Range: 3,800km
Capacity: 1 TP-4
Armament: Two 70mm Twin Deck Guns, Eight 40mm Twin Deck Guns, Six 20mm AA Guns, Two 300mm Torpedo Tubes, Two Depth Charge Launchers
Crew: 60
Powerplant: Three Diesel-Electric engines driving three screws
Cost: $85 Million

TP-4 Gyrocopter
Rotor width: 25m
Wingspan: 18m
Length: 10m
Speed: 220kph
Armament: Two 500kg bombs, One 10mm Machine gun in rear-facing turret mount
Crew: Two
Cost: $8 Million

Operations Center, the Admiralty
Ianapalis, Iansisle, the Commonwealth

The always busy Operations Center was now a scene of unrelenting chaos. Captain Conroy did his best to organize the yelling officers and men, while coordinating the movements of every ship in the Iansislean Navy.

Reports from the front, thousands of miles distant in the North Atlantic, were sketchy, to say the least. He knew that Gadsan, her escorts, a British destroyer, and several Walmingtonish ships were engaging German u-boats, who supposedly sunk the cargo hauler Capable and made off with the Colt's plans and specifications.

Conroy studied the "big map" - which marked the best known positions of all ships percieved to be hostile to Iansisle, as well as all fleet positions. Most of the Empire's ships lay in harbor near Ianapalis, with the small Friendship Fleet in the North Atlantic and a few destroyers protecting the trade routes that were Iansisle's lifeline to its East Asian and Gallagan empire.

Conroy had earlier suggested the dispatch of a massive fleet to Walminton, but now, considering the large concentration of Hainan ships just north west of Iansisle's vital trade routes, he reconsidered. If the R.I.N. could not protect the route to Gallaga, it may find its position overthrown, be it by the ambitious Calarcans, or some other rising East Asian power. With somewhat of a sigh, he rewrote his reccomendation to include the dispatch of additional BAF-1s, radranger stations, MPAF-4 and -5s, and Shield-class ships to aid the overworked destroyers.

That would leave the deployment to Walminton just Undauntable, Shield, Vanguard, Tharia, Protector, Guiding Light, Oddsyus, Delton, and Thesia. He rubbed his head. The Salvador, Iansisle's most advanced ship and largest Mobile AeroFlyer Dock would be a grand addition, but they couldn't take the risk of deploying her outside the Pacific. The half-crippled, aging, decrepit Vanguard - which could carry a measly eighteen aeroflyers, would have to do the trick.

Conroy bit his lower lip and drafted the new recomendation, to be sent to Grand Admiral Tri's desk, then on to Walminton - and America. Those new ships couldn't be finished soon enough.

Admiral Franz Schneider stood on the bridge of the Bismarck, surveying his battle group. Prinz Eugen was leading the group, with her sophisticated new radar (the newest German model, it's an actual search radar). Trailing her was Bismarck herself, followed closely by the aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin. At the rear of the formation was the Emden, an aging but still capable light cruiser. Spread on either side were the 6 destroyers serving as escorts to the capital ships. No tenders or supply ships were sailing this time; the sortie was expected to last no longer than a few days. Admiral Schneider was privy to much that the average sailor was not; while the crews of the ships under his command might believe this to be a major combat mission, he knew better. Not to say that combat was not expected, but rather that the small fleet was never intended to cross onto the Atlantic. OKW and Fleet Command intended this to be a screening action for a single returning U-boat carrying an important cargo. The strategic minds at Naval HQ believed that the ships hunting her would surely break off their pursuit if they thought they might bump into a sizable battle fleet in the process. Once the fleet had reached the Channel, Schneider had been ordered to hold position untill the U-boat's escape was certain, then to steam north and see what trouble he could stir up; the Home Fleet would not let such a sizable force sail without dispaching a battlegroup of their own. If conditions were not favorable, Admiral Schneider was to return to port; by then, whatever U-155 was carrying should be safe.
The ships continued for the English Channel, keeping a sharp eye out for the forces they knew would soon move to engage them.

I can't sleep. My bed's all BUMPY.

HIMS Gadsan

"This report in from London, Commodore," said the wireless operator, his voice riddled with fatigue. Bismarck has sailed - she's heading for the Channel."

Hansfield was just as tired as his officers, but he was determined not to let it show. "And?"

"With all due respect, sir, Gadsan would be no match for her. For all the good our 8"ers would do, we may as well throw crumpets at her."

"Damn it, damn it, I know. Do you think they'd fire on us?"

"We're hunting a German submarine, aren't we?" asked Pierce from the radranger station.

"Ensign, must I remind you how valuable, er, our cargo was? We can't let the Germans - or any other party that may be hostile to Iansisle - come in to possesion of an MPAF-6!"

"Sir, a word?" asked Captain Fitzpatrick, his face as weary as the bridgecrew. Hansfield considered for a moment, then nodded.

In the plush captain's quarters on the Gadsan, Fitzpatrick brought up his concerns about the crew, not just of the heavy cruiser, but of the fleet in general. "They're tired, sir," he said. "They can't keep up a pace like this for much longer - not on a wild goose chase, at least."

Hansfield glared at the Gadsan's master - but knew he was right, of course. "Very well. I shall break off the chase, and order the fleet to Walmington. Damn the Germans! Ianapalis'll have my head for this!"

(sorry about the long response time - I lost the thread ;))

(No problem. I think everyone else did too! :wink: )

IC- A telegram arrives on the desk of Admiral Tri the morning of the sinking of U-63. The telegram is asking for a meeting between him and Admiral Raeder in a neutral location to discuss recent events affecting the relationship between Iansisle and Germany.
Two things are odd about the message. First, the fact that the meeting will be between the commanders of naval forces of the two countries, and not diplomatic envoys or ambassadors. Secondly, the message is too soon for the Germans to have discovered the U-boat's sinking unless they had advance knowlege of its attack. The message is insistant on an immediate reply.

The Admiralty
Ianapalis, Iansisle, the Commonwealth

Richard considered the request. Why in God's name would they want to talk to me? was his first thought. Oh, hell - diplomatic work, was his second. He too well remembered the events of his participation in the Golden Agate Conference. After the initial shock, another thought struck him - the wired report of the sinking of a German submersible in the North Atlantic by Hansfield's flotilla had just arrived a scarce few hours ago. How would the Germans even know they had lost a boat - or rather, how would they know what boat it was?

Still, an immediate reply was needed. He didn't know if the telegram was supposed to be private or not, but didn't take it to Lord Javial's office. The blundering fool would look too much into it, anyway.

His answer was brief. It asked why the Germans wished to talk to an 'old seadog', what 'neutral' location they had in mind, and what they wished to talk about. He reminded them that harrasment on the high seas - especially the stealing of Top Secret papers was not a thing looked upon kindly by the Commonwealth, and that Iansisle was a established sea power.

The message left as soon as it was completed.

(Thanks to my absence, due to extend a good three to five days, I think I'm going to have to order the Walmingtonian vessels back too- I can't really stop the whole RP when at the moment WoS is really a secondary participant. So yes, we've presumably returned to port, supposing that it's too dangerous to risk outright confrontation with Bismark and an aircraft carrier- outside of our own fighters' range. All hospitality extended to the Ians, of course)

OOC-Hope to see WoS back here soon.

IC- Admiral Raeder was home, packing his bag when his aide brought Admiral Tri's response to him. Raeder took the telegram into his study while the junior officer continued packing his things. Raeder had expected Tri's response to be soon in coming, and his confusion regarding his involvement in, what was at least superficially, a purely political matter. Soon enough, he will understand. Raeder sighed wearily; the days ahead would be trying indeed.
Sitting down to his desk, Raeder quickly drafted a reply. As soon as the ink had dried, he send it on with his aide.

To:Admiral Richard Tri, Commander of Iansislian Naval Forces
From: Admiral Erich Raeder, Commander of German Naval Forces

Dear Sir,
In reading your reply to my previous letter, I realize that several matters have not been sufficiently addressed. I appologise for any uncertainty this may have caused.
Firstly, my request for a meeting between you and I personally is based on a very simple fact. Specifically, a meeting between politically minded ambassadors who have little understanding in the theory and implementation of sea power could very well end in disaster. I must admit also that the current political air in Berlin is not one supportive of a peaceful negotiation. Related to this is the fact that such an ambassador would not be acting from a position of experience. If our ships were to meet from a position of animosity, they would not understand the severity of the consequences in the same way that you and I would, having served much of our lives at sea and experienced those same consequences ourselves too many times.
I very strongly hope that you will consider my request closely, which brings me to the second issue I wish to address. I can understand there may be a feeling of uncertainty on my intentions on your part. In light of this, I leave the choice of location to you, in the hopes that this will allay some of your misgivings.
Again, I must stress what I feel is a desperate need for a meeting between us, before actions are taken that cannot be taken back. A hostile engagement between our nations can only end in tragedy for both sides.

Yours most respectfully,
Erich Raeder, Grand Admiral
Die Kriegsmarine

Tri Manor
Pax Shadoran, Iansisle, the Commonwealth

Richard had already made up his mind to meet with Raeder when an aid brought the response to him. He glanced over it briefly, and nodded. An acceptable situation.

He had also made up his mind to go alone, without telling anyone he didn't have to his true destination. The Lord Javial, Minister of War, was away in Galla-China looking at the Royal Iansislean Army Corps' diggings around the Mekong river delta - leaving Sir Richard Tri, Grand Admiral of the Fleet and Lord Commander of the Admiralty as Iansisle's top military man.

It would be a simple matter - take a Bankfield to Fort Manly, supposedly to tour the fleet base there, then order the pilot on to Nusheld. Once in Gallaga, he could hop to anywhere the German would meet him. Calarcan Gallaga would be an ideal choice for him, despite the residual unfriendly rivalry between Iansisle and Calarca, but he wondered how easy - or hard, rather - it would be for Raeder to get there.

Still, he'd feel safer there than in a Balkan state or Turkey. He put through the request for Gasage (near RL Madras) to Raeder, along with his hopes that conflict between Iansisle and Germany could be avoided, with a request that all future messages be relayed to the naval base at Fort Manly.

Two hours later, all was in order, and he, a couple young marines, and a flight crew were being whisked through the air by a Bankfield Mk. III Aero-transport.

Raeder was waiting on the airstrip outside Berlin when his aide delivered the final telegram from Admiral Tri designating the location of their meeting. Raeder crawled into the Heinkel He-111; normally used as a medium bomber, the twin engine plane could also be used to transport cargo or passengers, as the case was. Raeder crawled up to the pilot's seat and gave him the destination. The bomber was traveling light on this trip; besides the three man flight crew, only Admiral Raeder and his aide were aboard. The pilot struck the aged career sailor as too young, but the Knight's Cross around his neck testified to his skill far more than any report or memo.
Within minutes, the aircraft was leaving the runway, taking its cargo to the waiting Admiral. The flight would be relatively short; the He-111 made good time when not weighed down by a heavy payload, and the only stops planned were for fuel, barring any emergency. Raeder wrapped himself in his overcoat and tried to sleep. The pilot would be flying relatively low tonight, so it wouldn't be as cold as the crews sometimes experienced, but they were wearing flight suits, while Raeder wore only his evercoat and dress uniform.
Raeder closed his eyes and dozed while he traveled to meet with Admiral Tri.

Aerodock
Gasage, Calarcan Gallaga

Tri beat Raeder there by a small margin, and had already reserved a room in the hotel when the German flyer appeared in the western sky. There had been objections to allowing his marines - all two of them - to wander around the city armed, so they protected their Admiral with nothing but their bare hands.

The He-111 rolled to a stop on the dock itself, and Tri threw a smart military salute to the exiting figure, who may have wondered why the Admiral was abroad without any support staff save two thick-looking marines.

Raeder returned Admiral Tri's salute. To be honest, the German commander had expected a larger group from Iansisle; that Admiral Tri would travel abroad with no more company than a pair of unarmed bodyguards spoke volumes to his confidence. Or could it simply be that he trusts your word? Admiral Raeder shook his head slightly; if that was the case, it was just as well that he was the one to meet with Tri, and not a less-scrupulous individual. If the Flottenkommandos were brazen enough to hijack a neutral vessel, under convoy, and bound for a neutral port......Raeder let it drop there; better not even to think about the hornet's nest that would have stirred up.
Raeder returned the salute with the old Navy salute, hand held palm-out to the brim of his cap. After a respectful pause, he returned his arm to his side and walked up to the senior officer of the Iansislian Navy, offering his hand. There was much he wished to cover, and time was indeed short. Raeder had no doubts that the Gestapo had pulled the manifest to his flight; it listed Rome as the destination, but those thugs had ways of getting past simple deceptions like mis-labeled destinations on a flight plan.
"Admiral, I cannot tell you how glad I am that you chose to accept my invitation. I know that relations between our countries have been strained of late. I sincerely hope that our meeting here will avert what I see as a very real chance for war."
Raeder's words were calculated to send two messages to Admiral Tri; firstly, Raeder hoped he would see that he truly didn't want to have to fight the Iansislian Navy. Secondly, he wanted Tri to realize that while he did not want a war with Iansisle, he would not shrink away if it came to it. Now it's in his hands..., Raeder thought.

Tri accepted Raeder's hand, his bright blue eyes - undimmed by age and wear - piercing the German Grand Admiral.

"Admiral - so nice of you to journey all the way to Gallaga. Come; I have a horseless carriage waiting. I find that sensitive discussions are best undertaken with food. Would you care to join me?"

Tri then led Raeder to a waiting Jackrabbit IV - the newest model - and let him in. One of the marines took the wheel, as Tri listened to the German's continued comments.

"'Somewhat strained' is an interesting way of putting it. To my understanding - and I hope you will forgive my rather blunt language - Germany has been the one doing all the straining. Of course, news is slow to reach Ianapalis - perhaps you have a different picture of events than the rather grim portrait that has reached the Admiralty?"

(OOC: Since you're in Gasgage, Calarcian security would be following. Any visit by an important official to fort manly would be watched, and when on the Gallaga portion, native agents kept to watch rival Iansisleans would be keeping an eye on him, even with a forged manifest and flight plan, in Gasgage Tri would be watched.

How long is this from the liberty? would the news of the Germans sinking the liner have got around? or of sinking the nuetral Iansisle ship on the way to WoS? if so that will affect Calarcian views on the war. We're nuetral but have a lot of shipping and a pretty large naval force to defend it. We also keep up with the times and have Depthchargers and Submersibles (no strange ideas about chivalrous surface slogging here, anything to win) but our aeroflyers are still biplanes, no jets for us.)

The Calarcian intelligence agent reading a paper casually in the distance watched the man dismount from the H-111, something niggled at his mind, he had seen him somewhere before. It wasn't until the two men had turned out of the gate in their car that he finally placed why the man meeting his trace was familiar, he was in the agents book of important people to memorise as the admiral in charge of german naval forces. What the hell were the top naval figures of two countries doing meeting on Calarcian soil for?!?!

Running for a payphone he digs out a few pennies and franticaly rings his section command.

later that day there were over 40 agents surrounding the two foriengers wherever they moved, with trained lipreaders scanning them through powerful telescopse from rooftops and parked cars.
Others were impersonating maids and cleaners, trying to listen through walls with a Vibration glass.

La Marina d'Ercolana has been watching this situation closely and believes that its involvement in it is inevitable. Russolini, our leader, has already begun a crash re-armament program which has yielded very successful results in our navy and air force, but little progress in our Army. We must wait for now, biding our time and seaking an ally which best correllates with the affairs of the Ercolanan affairs.

(Calarca - heh, sorry about choosing your territory for this meeting. Agrigento seems rather biased towards Germany, and Walmington's vaugely defined Cape / African colonies were out, leaving just your Gallaga. If there's any problems, don't hesitate to mention, and we can relocate.

Anyway, as for territory, I assumed you ended up with Malaysia, Java, southern Brunei, Sumatra, all of India south of Bombay (and maybe more - I just took the Ganges river basin). I took, well, the Ganges basin, a thin coastal strip stretching southwards, Burma, south Indo-China, north Brunei, parts of the Philippenes, and a few north-pacific islands. I do intend on continuing that Gallaga thread sometime, but this was rather expediant for the purposes of this thread. Again, if you have any objections, feel free to voice them, and I am sorry to use your territory without permission

I would suppose the Liberty incident has been picked up by the British press, but the Capable incident was just a day or two ago. If your agents ask Tri or Raeder, they may know, but I doubt it'll be widespread.)

Agrigento seems rather biased towards Germany...

ooc: Maybe I am, and maybe.....I AM! http://69.57.141.218/html/emoticons/ninja.gif

ooc: Maybe I am, and maybe.....I AM! http://69.57.141.218/html/emoticons/ninja.gif

(d'oh, there I go assuming again ;). Just ignore me if I say anything completly off the wall - I need more sleep and less Dr Pepper...well, more sleep anyhow. In anycase - what is Ercolana? Agrigento in the past? An Italy simulation? It's all quite confusing to me - but then, Iansisle's rather confusing to me as well ;) )

(d'oh, there I go assuming again ;). Just ignore me if I say anything completly off the wall - I need more sleep and less Dr Pepper...well, more sleep anyhow. In anycase - what is Ercolana? Agrigento in the past? An Italy simulation? It's all quite confusing to me - but then, Iansisle's rather confusing to me as well ;) )

ooc: well its all confusing to me as well. It seems that Agrigento and Iansisle & Walmington coexist with different time period techs, so I am making Ercolana like that. It exists in the same universe as Modern Tech Agrigento, but just WW2 Tech. Ercolana, I shall say is in The Eastern Azores right now....

Well thats how it is at the moment, this may change like the wind)

ooc: well its all confusing to me as well. It seems that Agrigento and Iansisle & Walmington coexist with different time period techs, so I am making Ercolana like that. It exists in the same universe as Modern Tech Agrigento, but just WW2 Tech. Ercolana, I shall say is in The Eastern Azores right now....

Well thats how it is at the moment, this may change like the wind)

(works for me. So, they do gravitate towards Germany (I'm guessing from our good friend Benito)? And do they own the Agrigentian colonies acquired in the Gallaga thread?)

(works for me. So, they do gravitate towards Germany (I'm guessing from our good friend Benito)? And do they own the Agrigentian colonies acquired in the Gallaga thread?)

(Ya, they definately lean to Germany. Also, somewhere along the Gallagan Thread 75% of Agrigentian Controlled Sind is handed over to the Ercolanans, as well as all of Punjab, save a few small forts and such)

All OOC:

I'm happy with India south of the bombay/Madras area. Sumatra, well obvious really, since I came up the south coast and you had to go way north though the singapore gap. Malasia, hmm... must be a reason I got that, I thought you already had a place there, Java too, thats part of the sumatra deal. could be a fight about the north tip by the gap tho. You took over fort trade/singapore?

Feel free to use Gasgage, but watch out for the spies.

In this RP, I'll probably favour Britain/Iansisle/WoS... As an isolated island nation with a large merchant fleet, german sinking of I merchanters on the way to WoS, while both are neutral in the UK/German war would make Calarca as a nation very unhappy and suspicious.

OOC- Too tired to think of what to do next. Look for a response soon.

(As far as I know, we still have the Fort Trade / Fort Manly standoff. I assumed you'd move into Malaysia because I was focusing most of my efforts on Indo-China Burma. If you want to let me have that, it's fine :)

As for alliances, I'm glad you're on our side. There's a couple East Asian powers - operating from Hainan and Siam - that are starting to worry me, especially in Indo-China (or Galla-China, such as it is).

D.K., take your time. I hate doing diplomacy while asleep too ;))

OOC:
I'm glad to keep the standoff, it gives a bit of a spice to operations, lol.
I need to finish up a few posts for the Gallaga thread, but that can wait til after this

OOC- Ok, I'm back. When I get tired, I get all loopy; I didn't want Raeder turning into the Linux penguin and giving your Admiral Tri the secrets of the universe in a 3-DVD box set. In advance, I want to say that this might not make this a lot of sense, but I like where it's going...

IC-Raeder waited to respond to Admiral Tri's query untill they had retired to the hotel. Once inside, he sank into a chair opposite the Iansislian officer. Food was placed before them, but neither was really concerned about eating. Finally, Raeder set his plate aside and leaned forward.
"Admiral, I wish to take this opportunity to thank you for your hospitality, because I may not get another chance. That being said, I must confess that there are forces within the Kriegsmarine driven not by devotion to duty or country, but political ideology. While I have no knowlege of an operation against your vessels, I would not be shocked if such an operation had, in fact, taken place. Attacking a neutral vessel in international waters without any warning whatsoever goes counter to everything I believe in as a naval officer and a gentleman. I understand that warfare is nothing romantic, but it should be an orderly and controled affair. Iansisle and her navy are not our enemy, and I have never viewed them as such. However, I find it highly unlikely that Berlin will seek peace with Iansisle if faced with the possibility of war. That is why I asked for this meeting with you, so that you can understand the position we are both in, and take that message to the leaders of your nation. While our armies and air forces may never meet in combat, we have already seen that our naval forces can, and will, be joined in battle now and in the future unless immediate action is taken on both our parts. Specifically, you and I need to come to an understanding about what can be done to try and avoid this, since it would be disasterous to both our forces."
Raeder stood up, and walked over to the window overlooking the harbor. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a leather booklet. Turning, he tossed it to Admiral Tri, who caught it and flipped it open. Inside were pictures of a young boy. As the admiral flipped through the booklet, watching the youth grow into a healthy looking young man, who bore a striking resemblance to........ Admiral Tri looked up. Raeder was back at the window, looking out at the harbor. Returning to the photo album, Tri came to the last photo, the young man in a Kriegsmarine uniform, bearing a junior lieutenant's rank. He was smiling into the camera, standing proudly in front of a fine looking warship; presumably, one he would soon begin serving on. Admiral Tri found that, by squinting slightly, he could make out the name of the vessel.
".....Hollandorff."
Admiral Raeder sighed again. He turned slowly, meeting Admiral Tri's gaze.
"My son, Kurt. He.......... would have been 24 in May. The Hollandorff was his first duty station after leaving the academy. I, of course, had no idea where he would be serving; we had an agreement, you see? He wanted to make his own career, not as the son of the Grand Admiral, but as his own man. He even took his mother's maiden name, so no one would show him preferrential treatment based on that."
Raeder slowly walked back to his seat opposite Admiral Tri. He sat slowly, like a much older man plagued by joint pain would have.
"I've been a sailor all my life. I served at Jutland, and saw many a young and promising life snuffed out, on both sides of the battle. And now I find myself faced with the same horrible position again, and for all my power, I can do nothing to stop the storm that's coming. Too many young men will be fed into the fire in the years to come, but I cannot refuse to send them. I would never see my country destroyed by another Treaty, no matter how many lives it cost. I must know, then, what must be done to avoid our own bloody conflict. I can promise you nothing, save my word that I will do all within my power to make this happen."

Tri continued to stare at the young man in the picture. Although he bore no resemblance to his own son, William, who was serving with Epsilon Wing of the RIFC - currently stationed not to far away in Galla-China - as a MPAF-5 pilot, his heart was moved by Raeder’s story. There had been men just like that young man - like his son - that he had lead to their deaths. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them.

“A very handsome son,” Richard forced himself to say, rising as well. “Reminds me of my own William.” He handed the photo album back. “He’s with the Flying Corps, in Galla-China. I suppose I’d be more comfortable if he were closer to home, but...” Tri shrugged.

“War is never a good thing, Admiral,” he commented, after joining Raeder in gazing out the window for a time. “I’d like to avoid it as much as you - the last thing Iansisle needs now is more death. However, the government is out of my control. Hell, at times, the Admiralty is out of my control.” Tri drew a cigar.

“I maintain a close, personal relationship with His Majesty, James III. However, there is only so much the High King can do, especially in Iansisle. I’d need to talk to the Commonwealth Combined Parliament - and they’d not listen to me. There’s only one person I know - Rear Admiral Sir Jeffery Williams of Larkinia - who can even get a word in edgewise to that bunch of loonies.

“What I can do is keep this story from the press as long as possible. However,” he continued, his voice suddenly swinging from morose to cold, “I want your personal assurance - as an officer and a gentleman - that whoever ordered this mission is punished for gross insubordination. Iansisleans have died, and I wish the perpetrator brought to justice. Make no mistake about it - I do not hold the Kriegsmarine as a whole responsible for it, but if you cannot promise justice, the R.I.N. will take it.”

(Queen Jessica reigns! (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=66527))

Raeder drew in Admiral Tri's words, knowing full well what was coming. Like the war, he was powerless to stop it.
"Admiral Tri, nothing would give me more pleasure than to see this matter brought to a swift and satisfactory conclusion, for both of us. I will do what I can, but you must understand this. If it was indeed a German U-boat that carried out this attack, it could only have been a Flottenkommandogruppe. These forces answer only to the OKW, and to the Fuhrer himself. While they may operate on the seas in U-boats, they are completely beyond my command, which brings us back to the heart of the matter. Many of those in power have been infused with confidence in the strength of Germany's military, with the surrender of Poland and our pact with Russia. They will not pay any mind to protests voiced by what they consider to be a distant threat, and they are the only ones who could have ordered such an operation."
Raeder walked to the table and retrieved his cap. Placing it on his head, he turned back to Admiral Tri, his face drawn and grim.
"I fear that this will not be finished by words, but only with blood and iron. I will take your wishes back with me, and I promise you I will do all that I can to stop what I fear is already begun. We will yet see what becomes of our meeting, but I am glad I at least had the opportunity to meet you."
Raeder saluted smartly, then turned and walked out, leaving Admiral Tri to consider the solemn message of his words.

Richard winced as Raeder walked out. Maybe I did come on a bit too strong there....drat, I should have brought Ambassador Johnson with me; he'd know what to do.

Still, I do know what Admiral Raeder must be going through. Impotancy to stop an impending disaster is a feeling I know all too well. Richard's thoughts strayed to Salvador. He thought of the protests daily outside the Admiralty, people stumping for Iansisle to intervene on the part of V+S. He had known what the communists were capable of - he had known that Commodore Gurney's little fleet stood about the same chance as a snowball in hell.

And still, he ordered them in. There was nothing else he could do.

Sometimes, his sleep was haunted by them - nearly 4,000 Iansislean sailors and soldiers, mutilated, butchered - their blood on his hands.

Grimly, Richard began packing his things for the return flight to Fort Manly, then on to Ianapalis. There would be questions, of course. He hoped he had answers.

Before Raeder had even returned from his meeting with Iansisle's top naval commander, the OKW had called a meeting with Fleet Command, asking about the possibility of deploying the Graf Spee and several Type-IX U-boats into seas controled by Iansisle. The strategists in the OKW hoped that tensions between nations in Far East would develop into opportunity for the raider, and an alliance might be offered to Iansisle's neighbor Hainan to further strain the R.I.N. Fleet Command's strategists countered this request by saying that any ship damaged so far from home would almost certainly be lost before she could be repaired, and that the logistical requirements of such an operation would be almost immeasurable. After being directly ordered to conduct a study of the operation, the meeting was ended.
When Raeder returned to Berlin, the first thing on his desk was the preliminary findings of that study. According to his analysts, a ship the size of the Graf Spee would almost have to fall back to operations akin to the pirates of the 16th Century, obtaining the majority of her supplies from the ships she captured as prizes. Besides the gross moral objection to thieving food and supplies from the crews of these vessels, it also meant that very few of these ships would be able to sail back to Germany as prizes, which left scuttling as the only option. Also, due to the distance from a friendly port, the limited support facilities, and the extreme need for secrecy the vessels would require, questions were raised about the crews of those prizes that were fundamentally disturbing. Raeder closed the report, and rested his head in his hands. They're planning for war already... This is worse than I thought.

Gasgage
Several dozen trained intelligence agents, nearly Gasgages entire complement had been drafted to watch the hotel where the meeting was being held. The fact that the admirals were frowning caused notes to be made and conjenctures made, The King would here of this.

Calarca
King Harwode VII of Calarca, emperor of the Gallagan south, Ruler of Sumatra and Borneo, Hereditary Master of Java, Lord of the Southern Oceans, studied his intelligence officers briefing with dismay.

"You mean to say that Germany sunk neutral merchanters enroute to a neutral country and escorted by neutral warships? What will happen to our ships? We have a number in german ports and more in english ports, thats the whole point of being neutral.
I want this report confirmed, if neccesary draft a wire to King James III of Iansisle and another to King (?? you're a consistutional monarchy WoS?) of Walmington on Sea, asking for a personal explaination monarch to monarch. If confirmation comes, I want plans on how war may best be entered, and on which side."

"Your will be done Majesty." Murmered the spook, fading from the room like the well trained fellow he was, the king barely realised he left, so unobtrusive he was.

OOC-If you had ships in both German and British ports, I think that would make you a prime target for BOTH sides trying to enforce naval blockade on each other. I think the mindset of the British at the onset of the war could best be described as "If you're not for us, you're against us." A good example is how the British dealt with the French Navy after they capitulated, siezing and even attacking their former allies.

OOC-If you had ships in both German and British ports, I think that would make you a prime target for BOTH sides trying to enforce naval blockade on each other. I think the mindset of the British at the onset of the war could best be described as "If you're not for us, you're against us." A good example is how the British dealt with the French Navy after they capitulated, siezing and even attacking their former allies.

OOC: America had ships trading with Germany right up til when they sunk that passenger ship. and in WW1 the southern american states had ships trading with both countries. thats what neutral means, it's better to have a few ships going past than to have a country pissed off and opening stragetic ports to the other side and closing them to you when you don't have the men or time to take the ports yourself. look at the river plate, if britain had sunk neutral SA merchant ships trading with Germany, then the pocket battleship could have stayed in port for longer than 24 hours and gotten repaired. instead it had to put out or be interned. It's politics. what happened with the Iansislian merchanters is exactly the wrong thing to do in a looming or beginning war when there uncommitted nations looking on worriedly.

I didn't sink the Capable because she was going to Britain, or any other country for that matter. I sank her to try and cover up the evidence of who I was and what I had taken. Admittedly, to make the plan work I would have to sink the crew along with her, but that's not good politics. :roll:

And what passenger ship are you referring to? The Athenia?

Tri had to pay quite a bit to keep his pilot quiet. Granted, it wasn't a perfect coverup - the flight operators in Nusheld would wonder why it took the admiral two days to fly from Batam to the Mouths of the Ganges, and why he hadn't stopped in Burma if there were flyer problems.

Still, the chance of any of that making it all the way up to Lord Michael of Javial was slim. For now, he'd just have to carry on and hope.

Iansisle's naval assets in the Bay of Bengal were rather pathetic, considering that the East Gallaga Company claimed it as "an Iansislean lake". There were a couple aging destroyers and one new Tiger-class at Nusheld itself, with a small complement of torpedo boats, patrol sloops, and mine warfare ships based all around the rim. Considering the rich traffic of Company ships that passed across the Bay on their way to Iansisle or other western ports, their stocks laiden with expensive Gallagan goods, it wasn't nearly enough. Tri realized the need to keep most of the Asian Fleet stationed in the South China Sea, but they were neglecting a vast area of vital ocean to try and keep pace with the anti-colonialist powers. A war - even a cold one - on two fronts was not something Iansisle could keep up with.

The Parliament had assured the Admiralty that it would not back down to anyone, and had funds ready for a further thirty destroyers, another two Behemoth-classes, three more Shield classes, and six of a newly designed class of light cruiser (to be announced along with the designs of my torpedo boats, minelayers/sweepers, sloops, and first naval divebomber fairly soon), but it may well be too late by the time they came online.

Graf Spee's captain had never seen seas this bad.
The German raider was passing the Cape of Good Hope, making excellent time, when she ran into the most violent storm. Waves crashed over her bow, spilling water across the deck far back enough to cause minor flooding in the forward 11" turret. Many of the crew found themselves becoming increasingly seasick; even Capt. Reinike had battled its debilitating effects. Visibility was practically zero; the only comfort the captain took was that any patrol ships in the area were suffering just as much as he.
The crew was performing admirably in spite of the horrible weather. Most were not veteran sailors, but rather new recruits who had joined the Graf Spee in recent weeks. Capt. Reinike was impressed with their performance thus far, but he knew that the worst was yet ahead. A large portion of the crew was, as of yet, untested in battle. And battle would be coming, soon enough.
Unless this storm swallows us whole, Reinike thought morosely as he felt his stomach lurch again.

Far away from the troubled waters of the Cape, in the calmer waters of the North Pacific, seven ships cut the black water. The largest was Iansisle's premire MAFD, HIMS Salvador, along with the crusiers Noropia and Laughlin, and the destroyers Gazelle, Guiding Light, Protector, and Arabian Oryx.

The Oryx, fresh off her working up, was under the command of a mere lieutenant commander. Her orders, unlike the rest of the convoy, was to continue on alone past Fort Manly and meet up with the returning ships of the Friendship Fleet - who were now about halfway down the African coast, and happy to be likely to miss the rotten weather therein - where Captain Kennith Jones, hero of the Battle of Salvador, would take command.

A MAFD and its fast escort were hardly impressive as intimidators, but it was hoped that by sending them to Port Laughlin, on the River Sarawak, they could deter any sort of anti-colonial attack on Galla-China and Iansisle's other south-east Asia holdings.

At the Admiralty, the very real possibility of naval war with Germany and its fleet were being discussed.

"I know that's what she was intended for, but the very suggestion is ludicrious!" insisted Grand Admiral Sir Richard Tri, talking about HIMS Queen Jessica, which was about a third of the way through her working up in Troobodia Bay. Gunfire practice was scheduled for today.

Captain Conroy removed his glasses and rubbed his temple. "Sir, what's the point of having a commerce raider if we don't use it to raid commerce? Besides, she'd do a good number helping the British and Walmingtonians keep their sealanes open, even if she never sees a single merchantman with the German flag!"

Tri sighed. The argument was going to be a long one.

As Ercolana:

<telegram>

Benito Russolini requests a meeting with the leaders of the German Military, especially the Navy. Please respond promptly and we will discuss arrangements and a location.

As Ercolana:

<telegram>

Benito Russolini requests a meeting with the leaders of the German Military, especially the Navy. Please respond promptly and we will discuss arrangements and a location.

The OKW is most interested in your request, and we are at your disposal. Name the time and place, and we will make every effort to attend.

(*kicks empty can*. As if I already didn't have enough troubles, Ag ;))

We would like to hold a conference in the Ercolanan Capital of Troma. We welcome any of your politicians and leaders but request that someone from the higher echelons of your military heirarchy is present. The time will be in 1 week (RL whenever you want it).

(*kicks empty can*. As if I already didn't have enough troubles, Ag ;))

(Wait until I finish this post I'm working on. It gives the specification for every major class of ships in my navy as well as Tanks, planes and rifles of my other branches :twisted: )

From: British Office of Naval Intelligence

To: Royal Iansislian Naval Office

It has come to our attention that a number of German long-range warships and U-boats have been missing from their usual theater of operations for some time. One of these ships, the pocket battleship Admiral Graf Spee, was sighted heading south toward the tip of Africa. A number of Type-IX submarines are also believed to be heading into southern waters.
Just yesterday, a Turkish passenger liner spotted what may have been the Graf Spee sailing into the Indian Ocean. We wished to bring this to your attention because, in light of the recent events surrounding the sinking of the Capable, we believe that she may en route to Iansisle's shipping lanes in the South China Sea.
Any appropriate measures to protect your convoys would be advised.

We would like to hold a conference in the Ercolanan Capital of Troma. We welcome any of your politicians and leaders but request that someone from the higher echelons of your military heirarchy is present. The time will be in 1 week (RL whenever you want it).

OOC- Is this target at any nation(s) in particular?

We would like to hold a conference in the Ercolanan Capital of Troma. We welcome any of your politicians and leaders but request that someone from the higher echelons of your military heirarchy is present. The time will be in 1 week (RL whenever you want it).

OOC- Is this target at any nation(s) in particular?

OOC: Sorry It was intended for you.

IC-Several high ranking observers from the OKW will be at your disposal for the conference, including recently promoted Fkpt. Graf Eric Von Deitzer, who has a better grasp of the Kriegsmarine's capability than most. (This officer was responsable for the revised construction plan for the Kriegsmarine, found in the Price of Power (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=62290&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0) thread.)

OOC-I'll keep an eye out for this meeting. Maybe we can avoid a war after all...

Conroy handed a dispatch to Tri. "It looks as if the game's afoot, Admiral. This is from the British."

"Game, Conroy?" asked Tri in a tired voice, taking up the paper and reading over it. His features seemed to age twenty years as he read over it. Wordlessly, he handed it back. After a minute: "What's the reading on Graf Spee?"

"Not sure, Admiral," admitted Conroy, shrugging. "We estimate her to be around fifteen to twenty thousand tons, fast, independent, and heavily armed for her size. More than a match for our Shield-class, at any rate."

"What do we have that could take her?" asked Tri. What did I do to deserve this? he wondered.

"A squadron of Shields, working with destroyers, sir. Or Undauntable, but the Spee could run circles about her. And - well, Jessica, of course."

"The Q.J.?" asked Tri, his eyes lighting up. THAT was the purpose she had been designed for! "She's finished trials already?"

"No sir," said Conroy, shaking his head. "And she's only made 33 knots in trials - much less than the nearly 35 we had planned on. Still about a month and a half to go."

Tri stood, walking about the study. "She'll have to finish the working up enroute to Fort Manly. I want Jessica in the Indian, as soon as possible."

Conroy nodded. "Er, are we at war, sir?"

Tri looked at the captain long and hard. "I don't know," was the whispered response.

(ooc: Well I sorta have a rough plan for this conference, every nation involved in this so far will send some people if they can and don't mind and we will discuss things, basically just BS, but importantly Ercolana will decide to side with Germany by the end of the conference. How does that sound?)

OOC- For those just joining us, the Admiral Graf Spee (http://www.german-navy.de/kriegsmarine/ships/panzerschiffe/admiralgrafspee/tech.html). A side note is that this is actually the second ship of this type to sail under the name Graf Spee; the first was sunk by the British south of Walmington.
Anyway....
IC-Capt. Reinike sat with his First Watch Officer in the officer's mess aboard the Graf Spee. He could barely hear the sound of the rain falling on the upper works; the storm had broken several hours before, leaving only a cold, light rain. Before them sat the last page of Reinike's orders, the one none save himself was supposed to know even existed. His First Officer sat staring mutely, almost fearfully, at the innocent looking sheet of paper.
The page bore a single typed sentence: Seek out and destroy the Iansislian battlecruiser Queen Jessica.
Reinike didn't know what his First Officer thought of that, but personally, he rather thought that one sentence was the death sentence for his crew. He had been shown the numbers for Iansisle's newest warship, the one that was percieved to be the answer to the Deutschland and ships like her. It had always been the intention of Fleet Command to conduct trials alongside the R.I.N., to determine how the two vessels would compare; those had been happier times, however. Now it looked like the OKW was going to get some numbers to look at after all...
"Well?"
Reinike looked expectantly at his second-in-command. The junior officer swallowed hard, then leaned forward. He was pale, and slightly damp at the brow; Reinike might have passed it off as lingering seasickness, but he knew better.
"I think I should have joined the Army, like Poppa wanted."
Reinike smirked. He wasn't paralyzed by fear or thoughts of home, which was good. He would need everything this young man could give. The captain picked up the page and ripped it once, twice, and again. The pieces he placed in his pocket; he would burn them in the galley stove later on.
"We'll need a plan how to make our move on the Jessica. Draft a dispach to Fleet Command, asking for everything we've got on the ship. Double code it; we don't want anyone picking this up and losing the initative."
Reinike sat alone in the mess, wondering how things could have come to this...
OOC- Everything for the conference sounds good to me, if everyone else agrees as well.

(( http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=1429782

some stats on my fleet for right now.))

((I'm going to sleep now, you guys decide if you want to attend this conference))

Captain Robert Halders sat staring at his orders as Queen Jessica motored through Troobodia Bay at an easy eight knots.

Procede to Bay of Bengal. Keep alert for enemy commerce raiders. Destroy any German vessels that do not surender to search after giving warning.

"A combat mission? Now? We're hardly a month out of the yard! The guns need calibration, the radranger is buggy, the communication..."

The Admiralty man shrugged. "We have reports of German commerce raiders in the South Gallagan. We have to assume they're hostile. Jessica was meant to defeat these sort of ships - now would be a fine time to start."

Halders nodded slowly. "I would like to register a formal complaint."

The Admiralty man sighed. "Noted. Now get under way, Captain."

IC-The howl of the battle alarm jolted Capt. Reinike from his sleep. Moments later, the door to his cabin flew open, revealing a scared looking ensign. The young man began rambling on about British warships sighted off the stern, but the captain could barely make out one word in three. Hurredly, he drew on his shoes and trousers and sprinted for the bridge.
Graf Spee's First Officer had things well in hand by the time the captain had reached the control tower. A quick scan of the stern area revealed two British destroyers screening eight merchant ships. The destroyers were already throwing down a smoke screen, so Reinike knew he had no chance to suprise them before they could send off an RRR call. The captain turned and gave his orders; within minutes, the raider had come about 90*, and opened fire with her main batteries. As usual, the gun crews were right on target, scoring a direct hit to one of the escorts on the third salvo. Reinike watched through his glasses as the destroyer shattered into a million superheated shards of metal, her ammunition and fuel feeding the explosion. Of the other ship there was no sign; her smokescreen was too dense to spot anything beyond.
Slowly, the Graf Spee came up to 20 knots, bearing directly for the convoy's path. Capt. Reinike knew better than to charge into the smoke, where the destroyer would likely be waiting to ambush the raider with the only real weapon she carried, her torpedoes. Sure enough, as the smokescreen began to pass to the stern, out came the little destroyer, too late to intercept the larger vessel. She fired her 6" guns at the German ship, but the shells were far too small to cause any real damage. The rear turret locked onto the destroyer and fired, but the shells fell short. Still, the destroyer was doused with the splinters from the 11" shells, which tore through her thin armor and upper works. After three salvos, the brave little ship was so badly mauled that she began to drift off to the raider's port side, apparently out of control. Fires raged on her deck, which the bloodied crew struggled to contain. One final shot from the rear turret plunged a shell into the ship's engine room, sending steam gushing out the stack and killing most of the survivors. A few wounded men managed to jump or crawl over the side, but most went down with the ship.
The Graf Spee then turned her attention to the fleeing convoy. The slow merchant ships, knowing they had no chance against their opponent, scattered in every direction. Graf Spee's gunners sought them out with deadly accuracy, sinking six of the ships and capturing one heavily damaged. From this vessel they took everything they could possibly use: food, water, drums of diesel fuel, medical supplies, the ammunition from the ships single 6" gun. Once the ship was stripped of all useful items, the crew were placed in the boats, and the merchant sunk by torpedos. The Graf Spee then sailed out into the open ocean, leaving the lifeboat-bound merchantmen to pull the wounded from the British destroyer's crew out of the water.
Capt. Reinike swept the debris field left by the second destroyer. Soon he spotted what he was looking for, and dispached one of the motor launches to retrieve the destroyer's battle ensign from the water. A plan was forming in the back of his mind...

OOC- Capt. Reinike is not what you would call a concerned soul regarding the crews of the ships he sinks. He views the destruction of the crews of those ships as important a part of commerce warfare as the sinking of the ships themselves, but he would never actually kill survivors. Those ships did send off a distress call before meeting their demise also, so anyone nearby (East of Madigascar) knows roughly what happened, ie. they were attacked by a surface raider. Graf Spee's heading directly due east into the open ocean, hoping to avoid anyone who checks out the result.

OOC:

Calarca is an Isolated nation, way out the far end of nowhere, relying on sea transport. As such we have only 3 BBs, most of our major ships are commerce protection, long endurance, powerfully gunned fleet cruisers. these come with either small fast torpedo boats on slings or bombers on the rear. Normal operational procedure is to drop the torpedo boats over the side before engaging under cover of smoke laid to hide the boats and distract the enemy. A number of Light cruiser classes are also in use.

Destroyers yet to come, specs on light and heavy cruisers, battlecruisers, and Battleships in the Jessica thread. page 3. (PIC WARNING)http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=66527

ooc: you chaps are doing a great job... i read this thread...but i havent' time to read abny others until to-morrow... i'll be back then.. if this it anything to go by..i've a lot to catch up on..and it'll be well worth it. heh..sorru, best i not add anything IC at the mment..i can't see the board.. but I very much enjoyed catching up on thsat. (ooh, i'm at the house of the former vice presidebnt of BT international..we have our own telegraph pole!)

(drat...no resources in that area. WoS may have something.)

The Jessica cut through the North Atlantic, two days out of the Commonwealth. She was somewhat wet in the rougher water, but the large amount of freeboard built into the design and the clipper bow helped her prove many detractors wrong. There was some concern that the armor belt may be too low in the ship - to help with stability - but Halders wasn't terribly concerned.

They were only about a week behind Salvador, but the MAFD would be staying on station in the South China Sea to keep the Chaing Mai(ens?) and Hainans from getting any funny ideas. Halders would have loved the help of the aeroflyers - mostly MPAF-5 SeaSteeds, BAF-2 Screamers and MPAF-4T Warhorses - in protecting the vast stretch of ocean tasked to him, but the Admiralty worked in mysterious ways.

At least the guns were working, Halders thought. Maybe this wasn't going to be a disaster. In front of him, Jessica's single 14" turret spun to starboard, testing the spinning mechanism. It was slow - had to be expected - but the 8" guns were quite fast to track. For once, Halders was glad of the mixed armarment.

The Admiralty had assured him that Jessica wouldn't be alone - a cruiser group, containing the two destroyers Salvador was escorting and the Nusheld, as well as a few Tiger-class destroyers - would be scouting across the south Bay of Bengal. In addition, nearly all the destroyers in the Indian Ocean squadron were being deployed to scout for any German ships, then run while also trying to keep them shadowed. However, there were no convoys. The Admiralty had asked the East Gallaga Company to start a convoy system, but the Company had refused. Their ships were scattered across the Bay and the north Pacific between Gallaga and Iansisle - and some headed for Walmingtonish colonies near the Cape and in West Africa - by themselves.

Halders read the latest dispatch from the Admiralty...

The lone survivor of the British convoy destroyed by the Graf Spee didn't get very far. Less than two hours after escaping the battle, she crossed the path of U-174, also heading into the Indian Ocean. One torpedo later, she was headed to the bottom, with most of her crew escaping to the boats. The U-boat's commander, being far more compassionate than the Spee's Capt. Reinike, supplied the crew with food, water, and a compass. He also radioed their position across the emergency band before heading off to rejoin the hunt.

(ooc: hmm...i'm trying to think of a way to get involved in this war, any ideas?)

(ooc: hmm...i'm trying to think of a way to get involved in this war, any ideas?)

I could sink some of your ships? LOL just kidding.

If you're part of the reigon, you could just wander in, beings there are ships potentially attacking each other in your back yard.

Jessica slipped silently into Nongsa Landing, outside Fort Manly, Batam. Across the strait, the big guns of Fort Trade, Singapore gazed down on the Iansislean outpost - which was not without big guns of its own.

Halders had wanted to put into Fort Manly to preform some last minute repairs and calibrations. Jessica's fire control radranger had fritzed out - it was up to the repairmen at the fort to remedy the situation. Already, there were reports of merchant sinkings from farther west in Gallagan Ocean. There wouldn't be much time, Halders thought. His ship would have to sail in three days, ready or not.

Aboard the Graf Spee the battle flag descended from the masthead. No ships were present to see the solemn ceremony, nor did they witness the raising of the flag that Capt. Reinike had ordered to replace it. Above the German raider, the ensign of the Kriegsmarine had been replaced by the Union Jack formerly flown over the British destroyer Challenger.
Graf Spee turned north into Indian Ocean and her nearing engagement with the Queen Jessica.

With few exceptions, the long-range U-boats dispached with the Graf Spee concentrated around the Cape of Good Hope, knowing that any ships looking to pass into the Atlantic would follow a very narrow path through this area. The ships saw little action their first few days on station; most of the passing merchants belonged to neutral powers, and the U-boat captains had not been ordered to stop them and make searches in any event. The 7 U-boats clustered around the southern tip of Africa had one mission; intercept any vessel bearing the flag of Iansisle, and send it to the bottom regardless of what or whom it was carrying. British and French vessels were a secondary priority; moreover, the U-boats were instructed to obey the rather stringent prize law laid down by the Submarine Accord unless they were under convoy or escorted.

(I'm not sure what you intend, but Jessica will set out soon after she arrives. The cruisers Laughlin, Nusheld, andTroobodia, along with two fast Tiger-classes are already on station in the eastern approaches to the Bay of Bengal, the Jessica set to patrol the western appproaches. Time table and weather conditions are up to you.)

OOC- I have no idea what the weather and whatnot are like in that part of the world. The Spee's is going to head for the southern tip of India untill she can make a course due east for the Phillipines (or nearly so, anyway). From there, the course will turn either north or south, depending on her condition and such. Any ship of yours that she could sink without undue risk to herself is a potential target, her main objective being the Queen Jessica, of course. I'm sure there'll be some monsoons and whatnot sooner or later in that area; if you know more about that kind of thing, then I'll leave the weather up to you.
As for U-boats, they'll be mainly hanging around the Cape area, picking off what they can (see the previous post for details on that). Two or three will be heading into the Indian Ocean to try and get any ships thinking about taking the Suez Canal and cutting through the Med.
Oh, I almost forgot. The Nordmark is positioned to resupply these ships with fuel and provisions, should the need arise. She's in the far South Atlantic, in largely un-traveled waters, since she can't do jack on her own. :wink:

(Well, I'd imagine some heavy rain could be in order - depends on the month, really, and proximity to the equator. Calarca'd probably be the one to ask for that sort of thing - he strikes me as very well-read in that area. At any rate, Iansislean shipping around the cape isn't heavy, but you'd probably find some E.G. Company ships running convoyless to Walmingtonish ports down there.

If you're making for the Strait of Malacca (by way of the Andaman Sea), the cruiser group would be more likely to run into. Advantages: Quickest route to Iansisle from the Gallaga/Indian Ocean. Disadvantages: Calarca owns both sides of the Strait, and you'd have to run past Fort Manly at the end.

Alternativly, you could run farther south, around Sumatra and Java, and break into the Pacific through the Timor and Banda Seas. Calarca probably has commitments in that area, but you're not at war with him, and Iansisle has nothing until you hit Palau or the Philippenes. Jessica would be more likely to be in that area, but it does add a considerable amount to your journey and take you close to Port Darwin.)

Hmmm... Thanks for the info. It looks like I'll also be consulting a GLOBE in the near future, since I realized I don't know where most of those places are. :roll: Go figure...

Alternativly, you could run farther south, around Sumatra and Java, and break into the Pacific through the Timor and Banda Seas. Calarca probably has commitments in that area, but you're not at war with him, and Iansisle has nothing until you hit Palau or the Philippenes. Jessica would be more likely to be in that area, but it does add a considerable amount to your journey and take you close to Port Darwin.)
if you pass north of Sumatra/Java, we'd better know more about your relations with C.M. (and Hainan) unless you plan to hug the Calarcan-owned coast....

if you pass north of Sumatra/Java, we'd better know more about your relations with C.M. (and Hainan) unless you plan to hug the Calarcan-owned coast....

(That's right...C.M. does have a Gallagan Ocean coast, doesn't it....

*scratches chin*)

[yes, that little peninsula-thingy, we don't use it much though...it's more that if he plans on passing North of Calarcan Malaysia and Gallanesia(Indonesia IRL, but since we use Gallaga for India ;)) and approachin the Gallagan Ocean from the East he must perforce enter the Gulf of Siam (unless i misread the meaning of your post :? ), and that will be heavily patrolled, what with the increase in tensions and the frequent commercial shipping from Bankgok to Hainan, since Haiphong is still undergoing modernization...]

OOC-Graf Spee's sailing under the British flag right now anyway; unless someone gets on her and checks things out, it might take a while to realize what's up, which I'm counting on in the IC weeks ahead.

IC-After a few days sailing, the Graf Spee heads due east, toward the areas controlled by Iansisle. Strangely, no ship has been sighted since the convoy encounter earlier in the week. The radio has carried reports of the U-boats around the Cape and the mouth of the Suez Canal stalking merchant ships, but the seas around the raider are oddly empty. Capt. Reinike wonders if the R.I.N. has diverted their ships out of his path, but eventually dismisses it as irrelivant. The Jessica is his target; if he never saw another ship for the entire voyage he would not be saddened by it.
OOC- If I would have any indication of where your ship is, then I'd be headed for the southerly approach, hoping to catch her in or just coming out of her berth. I guess I don't know how strict your forces are about their operational security, or if that would be the most logical path to take. It's tough to do this objectively when I know so much more than the captain would! Ah well, let me know what you think about this, but I'm done for this morning. I'll get back on this afternoon or something and see what develops.

(C.M.: Sorry for being nebulous - he's coming from the west, going between Sumatra and Malaysia.

D.K. (woo...acronym joy-land): Iansislean operation secrecy is next to non-existant. The Admiralty is so vast, something's bound to leak somewhere or another - that is, if independent news reporters don't notice the sudden deployment of HIMS Queen Jessica while still untested to south-east Asia ;)

At any rate, I'd like to see Jessica engage the Spee - the southern route is more logical anyhow. Next to Jones, I think Halders is my favorite commander.

Iansislean shipping is heaviest in our typical trade route, from Nusheld (just east of Calcutta) to southern Burma (near Rangoon) to Fort Manly (Batam, near Singapore) to Port Laughlin (Sarawak, near Kuching) to Nashua (southern Philippenes) through the Sulu Sea, then north-east to Iansisle proper. There is also some traffic from Galla-China (south Vietnam) to Port Laughlin.

And I think Gallanesia is my new favorite word ;))

<edited due to pre-emptive answer>

OOC:posting a map to make things easier upon all concerned ;)
http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/maps/id-map.gif
so he's gonna try to pass from Gallagan Ocean into the Java Sea, through the Molucca Straight? :? if you have anything like what the Brits had at Singapore IRL (they used 18" naval guns to guard the peninsula ;) ) he's taking a risk, unless he hopes that British flag will really confuse things...

OOC: i take it the Graf Spee is sailing in the southern Gallagan Ocean, southwest of Burma on a northeasterly heading?or is she in the Bay of Bengal already? or in the Arbian Sea and heading for the Western Gallagan Coast?sorry, i'm confused, there's just so many tens of millions of square miles of ocean....

(From what I gather, I'd put the Spee somewhere between Maritius and the Cocos Islands, steaming north-east. She may be farther north, nearer the Seychelles or the Maldives. She may also be heading for port in Ag's puppets colonies - which I assume to be in north-east Africa and western Gallaga - to refuel/rearm before launching herself against the R.I.N. D.K. would know for sure, but he's off to bed.

Speaking of which, I should be too...it's well after 5am here, and sleep is a good thing...even on labor day weekend ;) 'night!)

EDIT: I assume he's going to try for a route farther to the south, around Java and up the Timor and Banda Seas. At least, that's what I'd do.

OOC: 2:30pm here, but good night :wink:
EDIT: i get it, he's far to the South in the Gallagan Ocean...I assume Britain has some unspecified interests in S.E.A., so if she's spotted it would just increase tensions a notch.... :wink: and onward to WWII we march, we march, or something like that :wink:

(Yeah, and then there's Calarca, too. I know they've some interest in Java and Sumatra, but I don't know what side they're going to align with, or the specifics on their colonies.

Ok, really off to bed now!)

(Yeah, and then there's Calarca, too. I know they've some interest in Java and Sumatra, but I don't know what side they're going to align with, or the specifics on their colonies.

Ok, really off to bed now!)

After hearing of neutral shipping being sunk by German ships and subs, Calarca is looking at them suspiciously. havn't yet been given excuse to drop neutrality tho, basicly I have most of whats light tan on the map above, except Irian Jaya/Papua NG and Inda south of a line drawn Bombay on the west coast to Madras on the east. WoS has Madadaskar off the southeast coast. plus my homeland where NZ is. I'm a major naval power, but about my only armies are hordes of colonial natives with M-1 style rifles and lewis guns.

I had a big military info post, but NS ate it. and I'm not gonna re-make it at 1 in the morning.

(ooc:I'm back and sober now.. but terribly far behind and quite tired. I need to sort out what I've got where, eh?)

Walmingtonian supply vessels and troop ships have in the past few days been abundant across Africa's west coast. Trains and convoys across land assist in the reinforcement of WoS colonies in the Cape and Gold Coast.
Naval Group Ceyloba has remained close to the island (Sri Lanka) and larger native units are being raised in support of the Walmingtonian regiment (many of the native troops are armed with the previous generation of Walmingtonian weapons- hand-cranked machineguns, single shot rifles similar to the Martini/Boxer Henrys (late Victorian tech level), and with low amunition the bayonet is often their primary weapon).

The ambassador to Germany, Sir Adrian Jason, stubbornly refuses to be evacuated, and is making countless calls each day to almost every level of German government and military. Quite what he hopes to achieve is anyone's guess, but he is to say the least indignant.

A message is sent from Troma to Karachi. It was written by Grand Admiral Carlo Berlusco, head of the Marina Militare D'Ercolana. According to the message an immediate reinforcement of the naval garrision in Karachi will begin immediately. Setting sail from the Ercolanan Mainland (The Eastern Azores, basically) are the following ships:

MM Ariete
MM Longevo
MM Letale
MM Litigio
MM Vagare

200 miles west of Jakarta, Capt. Reinike weighs his options. He knows that the navies of several nearby nations will be looking for his ship, and that making a breakout into the Pacific would be next to impossible. Unsure as to where he can best hope to find and engage the Queen Jessica, he sends a radiogram to Fleet Command in Berlin, asking for any information on the Iansislian battlecruiser's position. In the meantime, the raider begins a widening patrol circle of the Indian Ocean, hunting for any ship she can find, hoping to lure the Jessica out into open waters.
In the meantime, unobserved by the Spee's lookouts, a lone aircraft flies overhead.
OOC- I'll let whoever wants it take command of this airplane. I figure she could belong to anyone in the immediate area, and to say who that is might be seen as unfair. I'll probably post some other developments later on today, so I'm anxious to see what becomes of this.

The Cant.Z 501 flying boat took off from Karachi harbor and was refueled twice by modified corvettes on its voyage east. As it approached Malaysia they changed their course to southboud and the pliot lowered the plane's altitude allowing the eyes of the observers onboard to pierce the cloud layer. The pilot soon began to see a dark dot on the distant horizon. As the plane flew closer it wsa recognized as a large military vessel. The German flag was visible flying above it. The pilot new this had to be important, and judging by the size of the ship he guessed it was a battleship or cruiser of heavy design. As he slowly angeled the ship westward to land on the smooth ocean for refueling he had the radio operators report this to Karachi. The Message was not encoded, and judging by the vast distance covered the message would be easily intercepted by other countries*.

The message was recieved a while later in Karachi and then fowarded to Ercolanan Military Command back in the capital of Troma.

(* As of right now Ercolana does not have a suitable encryption method)

Listening Station
Fort Manly, Batam

The wireless operator tore the intercept off, frowning at it. It took a minute for the realization to sink in - this was it! The Graf Spee! He ran the message to his superior.

HIMS Queen Jessica
On patrol fifty nautical miles south-west of Great Nicobar

Ensign Hill listened to the decrypted message, his eyes growing wide. He turned to Halders. "She's been spotted, sir. South of here."

Halders felt his stomach turn inside out on itself. "Make course to intercept," he whispered hoarsly.

Meanwhile, near to Ceyloba, the cruiser group also started steaming towards the vague location of the Graf Spee.

(Presumably) Co-operating with their allies, the Walmingtonians at Ceyloba are keen to get something done. In the eyes of most men, officers and enlisted alike, Walmington has sat back while her merchants and her allies have been treated terribly by the Germans, and the Asians have paraded about puffing out their chests (probably assuming they're safe to hide behind Jerry, no doubt!).

Admiral Frazer was less disdainful of his submarines than was the PM back in Great Walmington, and both the boats on station with Naval Group Ceyloba put to sea, trailing the Iansislian cruisers.


(Submarine A Class-
Propulsion:D/E
Displacement:997tons surfaced, 1,502 submerged
Length-272ft
Beam-26ft
Draught-11ft 10in
Speed-15kt surfaced, 9kt submerged
Armament-one 4in deck gun, two .303mg, eleven 21in tubes; eight forward, two amidships, one aft 17 torpedoes
Complement-59

They do have a rather high number of tubes, but they are horribly slow to re-load (and don't have enough torps to reload every tube anyway) and the boats are reportedly unusually uncomfortable and plagued by minor faults and gremlins- plus WoS has next to no idea how to deploy them, and they often end up wandering around like headless chickens, trying to decide what to engage)

Gallagan Naval Detachment XII
Karachi Military Harbor, Ercolanan Sind

The three destroyers began to steam out of the military controlled portion and into the crowded public harbor. Two of them were larger than the other, being of the Lancia class. The other Destroyer was the first ship of the Ariete class, and it's namesake. It was in the lead with MM Longevo closely behind and the MM Letale just behind that. It was also flanked by three corvettes of the Ursa Class on each side. Their destination was to the east. They would be trying to make contact with the German battleship.

None of the Graf Spee's lookouts ever noticed the aircraft overhead as the ship turned back west on the next leg of its patrol. The raider maintained a rather sedated 10 knots, in order to conserve fuel. Traffic in the East Indian Ocean had been sparce so far; only one contact had been sighted, and later identified as a Ercolanian merchant group. The Spee had relied on her own Arado floatplane to make the identification, since Capt. Reinike didn't want anyone to know he was in the area except for the Queen Jessica. Knowing she must have gotten wind of the Spee's presence from the British SOS a few days prior made him that much more confident that it was only a matter of time before the two met in battle. Untill then, he was content to continue his patrol of the area. And who knew; maybe a choice prize would wander through the area, and hasten the Jessica's approach with her own distress call.
Capt. Reinike settled back and prepared for the waiting game to end.

OOC- I know I'm not posting a lot these last few times. I'm basically waiting for someone's ships to make contact with me at this point. As soon as you want to kick the battle off, just have someone run into the Graf Spee; I'm as ready as I'll ever be. 8)

Naval Detachment XII sped its way to find, and meet up with the German battleship. All the ships were operating at 26 knots, this way no ship fell behind yet they maintained a reasonable speed. They avoided sendng messages, because no proper coding system was in place, so not even the Germans knew of their intentions. It was a dangerous gamble but if they could close with the Battleship and using either Flag or a visible sight only code they could let them know they intended to join them.

A Calarcian Merchant ship steaming slowly along from one friendly port to another with a cargo of Batshit spotted a thin plume of smoke on the far horizon but ignored it, after all, Calarca wasn't at war, and whatever the silly foriengers decided to do was there own business.

(OOC: Guano makes a good fertiliser, lol. Whoever's over the horizon will notice this ship all right, it's a smoky old coal burner.)

(ah, smokey old coal burners. I'm sure I gave D.K. enough of them with my 'Friendship Fleet' ;))

HIMS Queen Jessica continued to steam south-east towards where the intercept had located Graf Spee. In a welcome change, their surface search radranger was working like a charm. It picked up a contact, sixty nautical miles (tell me if that's not realistic - assume 1943ish British or so in radar technology) off the port bow. Captain Halders wasted little time in getting Jessica's search flyer aloft, while having the crew come to general quarters. Even if she wasn't the Spee, it would provide a welcome drill for Jessica's green crew.

(Ok, general ship statistics time - the sort of things that aren't in the statistics. Jessica's blinding fast, but her 14" main guns are a little slow in tracking. Iansislean radar guided gunfire is very accurate, but Jessica's armor belt is very low in the ship (to help with stability). A lucky small caliber hit to the equiptment could force her to rely on optical targeting, which is mediocre at best, and certainly a good step below German meathods. In a battle with a raider like Spee, she'd probably try and close to use her fast tracking 8" batteries and potent Javelin torpedoes to best effect.)

OOC- Not a bad strategy. Personally, I'd try and use the Jessica's speed advantage to keep the Graf Spee at a distance, and use the extra range on those big 15" guns to my advantage. But, to each his own.

IC- The radar aboard the Graf Spee was not nearly as powerful as that onboard the Queen Jessica, as was typically the case with German warships. In spite of the airborn scout plane, Capt. Reinike had no idea he had been found untill the Iansislian battlecruiser closed to within 20 miles, nearly within range of her larger-bore guns. (OOC- 40ish is fine for the radar) The crew wasted no time in bringing the raider to combat readiness, but Capt. Reinike held off on the order to fire the ranging salvo. Instead, the wireless operator sent a message to the Queen Jessica, identifying themselves as the British heavy cruiser Cumberland, and asking what news they had of the Spee's whereabouts. The Graf Spee also made course for the Iansislian warship; Reinike feared the secondary armament of the Queen Jessica far less than her heavy guns, against which the raider's armor would do little good.
As the two ships drew closer, the radar picked up several other signals approaching. Reinike continued on course, hoping the new ships were just merchantmen who had stumbled across their path, but knowing it was far from likely.

"She reports herself as a British heavy cruiser, sir," reported the wireless operator, turning about to face Halders. "The Cumberland."

Halders frowned. The MPAF-3F rider had reported the ship as "very similar to the Graf Spee, but flying the Royal Navy's ensign. He hoped it was just a R.N. cruiser, but something nagged at the back of his mind.

"Sir? The Cumberland wants to know if we know about the Graf Spee's location."

Halders nodded. It made sense that a British warship should be hunting the same target - the Iansislean Ministry of War had been keeping in close contact with the British and Walmintonian governments of late.

"Inform her that we are the Iansislean battlecruiser HIMS Queen Jessica. The Graf Spee was last reported to be in this area, but we have no further information." Outside the window, the Cumberland drew closer. "Helm, bring us parallel to that cruiser, but maintain your distance."

Capt. Reinike smiled; apparently the ruse had suceeded, thus far.
"They'll be unsure what to make of us, at this point. I rather think her captain would regard us with suspition, beings we have nothing but the British flag to testify to our story. Fire a salvo from both turrets, then bring us up to flank speed and steer right for her. I want to close the distance before those guns tear us apart. Once we give ourselves away, I want you to drop that Union Jack over the side as well. If the worst happens, I'd just as soon go down under the right banner."
The command staff hurried to relay the captain's orders to the duty stations. Aboard the Queen Jessica, the bridge crew saw the British flag lowering seconds before the main turrets began swinging across the boat. Moments later, the 11" guns aboard the Graf Spee roared, and the battle flag of the Kriegsmarine was raised over the German raider.

A young look-out noticed the ensign coming down, and had a precious few seconds to wonder about its implications before the Spee's guns roared. Though the aft 11" turret was off target at about 20,000 yards, two of the three 660 lb shells from the forward turret slammed into Jessica at more than thirteen hundred feet per second. One ripped straight through her thin deck armor, being just barely stopped by the below-belt barbette from tearing into the ammunition cashe for her 14 and 12 inch guns. The other clanged into the side of the forward 12" gun, stunning the gun crew and killing a few hapless sailors who happened to be out on deck.

The Jessica, the meantime, drifted slightly farther from the German ship as her crew tried to figure out what the hell was going on. It was agreed they were under attack a few seconds after a large hole appeared in the forward deck.

"All batteries, return fire," ordered Halders, his voice in a struggle to remain calm. With ponderously slow movement, the 14" and aft 12" turret swung around to bracket the Spee, their "Blindman's Bluff" radranger providing exacting targeting data.

The smaller 8" guns - six of which could see the Spee - opened fire at once. Their tiny rounds wouldn't do much good at this range, thought Halders grimly. They'd have to move closer in.

MAY I JOIN IN ON THIS RP ALONG WITH THE GERMANS? GIVE M 2 OR 3 BATTLESHIPS TO COMMAND OR THE LUFTWAFFE PLZ?THIS RP IS AWESOME...I CAN BE VERY DISCRIPTIVE AND I KNOW A SHIT LOAD ABOUT THIS STUFF,PLZ CONFIRM ME..

Capitano Travino walked around the pilot house of the MM Ariete. He looked through the open roof hatch and saw the radar array towering above him. The Ariete was the Marina Militare to be outfitted with a radar system, well first combat ship besides the dedicated heavy, and slow, Radar Ships.

"Capitano!", said Guadiamarina (ensign) Pinoci has he came running into the pilot house. "We have two radar contacts, due southeast."

"And?", asked the Capitano, tired of chasing Calarcian Merchant ships.

"Well, sir, they are in a direct line west of the last reported position of the German battleship!", replied the Guadiamarina.

Hmm..and that Ians battleship, Queen Jeesaca or whatever the name was, was reported by our submarines have just leaving port..., the capitano thought. "Whats our distance?", he asked.

"40 km's southeast, if we hurry we....", answered the guadiamarina, but was cut off by the Capitano.

"Helmsman, set a course for those radar contacts. If they change their headings I want you to adjust accordingly to meet with the German ship."

"Aye aye sir", responded the helmsman.

MAY I JOIN IN ON THIS RP ALONG WITH THE GERMANS? GIVE M 2 OR 3 BATTLESHIPS TO COMMAND OR THE LUFTWAFFE PLZ?THIS RP IS AWESOME...I CAN BE VERY DISCRIPTIVE AND I KNOW A SHIT LOAD ABOUT THIS STUFF,PLZ CONFIRM ME..

OOC-There wouldn't be anything like battleships or aircraft this far from Germany. About the only thing we'd be able to put in the Indian Ocean would be either a Deutschland, or a Type IX U-boat. You're welcome to any of those, if you want them. Right now neither Iansisle or I have anything bigger than a single battlecruiser; adding a bunch of capital ships or airpower would unbalance things too much. Like I said though, take your pick of anything in the area.

IC-Graf Spee's engines powered up, driving the raider toward attack speed as she turned. Capt. Reinike steered the ship strait on toward the Queen Jessica, presenting her guns with the smallest target possible. However, in doing so he sacrificed half his own firepower. The forward turret continued to fire, however, with mixed results; one shell bounced off the thick armor of the 15" turret, while another smashed the Queen Jessica's galley. The Iansislian battlecruiser responded with her own salvo, striking the German ship in the bow and blasting a hole down through her deck and out the bottom. Immediately, the Graf Spee began to drop her nose into the water. Realizing that he could not hope to close with the Jessica before her heavy guns tore his ship apart, Capt. Reinike ordered the raider to come about, presenting her broadside to the Iansislian battlecruiser. Both ships fired almost simultaneously, but the result of Graf Spee's salvo (if any) was lost in a massive sheet of flame that seemed to envelop the entire ship for a moment. When the smoke cleared, the extent of the horribe damage dealt by the Queen Jessica was revealed. Much of the Spee's bridge had been blown away by two 15" shells that had impacted practically on top of each other, and her upper works were in shambles. The batteries were quickly switched to local control and resumed firing, but the battle was over for the Graf Spee; she would be unable to navigate or call for help, and she was taking on water fast. The gun crews bravely continued firing, knowing that all they could hope for now was to inflict enough damage on the Queen Jessica to drive her back to port, and then hope for a rescue of some kind. An enterprising young officer also ordered the port side torpedo tubes fired, hoping for a lucky hit.

:evil:

Damn triple posting forum!

Germany is sending out it's first u-boat pack to the indian ocean to assist the Ships positioned there,the fleet will include..

U-167, U-168, U-169, U-170, U-183, U-184, U-185, U-186, U-187, U-188, U-189, U-190, U-191, U-192, U-193, U-194,
U-525, U-526, U-527, U-528, U-529, U-530, U-531, U-532, U-533, U-534, U-535, U-536, U-537, U-538, U-539, U-540, U-541, U-542, U-543, U-544, U-545, U-546, U-547, U-548, U-549, U-550,
U-801, U-802, U-803, U-804, U-805, U-806, U-841, U-842, U-843, U-844, U-845, U-846, U-853, U-854, U-855, U-856, U-857, U-858, U-865, U-866, U-867, U-868, U-869, U-870, U-877, U-878, U-879, U-880, U-881, U-889,
U-1221, U-1222, U-1223, U-1224, U-1225, U-1226, U-1227, U-1228, U-1229, U-1230, U-1231, U-1232, U-1233, U-1234, and U-1235.

all to arrive in about a week or so..half hour real life,boat types are IXC: spesifacations are...

Displacement:
(tons) 1120 (sf)
1232 (sm)
1545 (total)
Length: (m) 76,76 oa
58,75 ph
Beam: (m) 6,86 oa
4,44 ph
Draught: (draft) 4,67 m
Height: 9,60 m
Power: (hp) 4400 (sf)
1000 (sm)

Speed:
(knots) 19 (sf)
7,3 (sm)
Range:
(miles / knots) 13850/10 (sf)
63/4 (sm)
Torpedoes: 22
4/2 (bow / stern tubes)
Mines: 44 TMA
Deck gun: 105/45
110 rounds
Crew: 48-56 men
Max depth: ca. 230 m
(755 feet)

May we do our best to serve the Krigsmarine,all those u-boats will break off into smaller groups once contact with the above sea vessels has occured..

Admerial Fritz-julius lemp

Germany is sending out it's first u-boat pack to the indian ocean to assist the Ships positioned there,the fleet will include..

U-167, U-168, U-169, U-170, U-183, U-184, U-185, U-186, U-187, U-188, U-189, U-190, U-191, U-192, U-193, U-194,
U-525, U-526, U-527, U-528, U-529, U-530, U-531, U-532, U-533, U-534, U-535, U-536, U-537, U-538, U-539, U-540, U-541, U-542, U-543, U-544, U-545, U-546, U-547, U-548, U-549, U-550,
U-801, U-802, U-803, U-804, U-805, U-806, U-841, U-842, U-843, U-844, U-845, U-846, U-853, U-854, U-855, U-856, U-857, U-858, U-865, U-866, U-867, U-868, U-869, U-870, U-877, U-878, U-879, U-880, U-881, U-889,
U-1221, U-1222, U-1223, U-1224, U-1225, U-1226, U-1227, U-1228, U-1229, U-1230, U-1231, U-1232, U-1233, U-1234, and U-1235.

all to arrive in about a week or so..half hour real life,boat types are IXC: spesifacations are...

Displacement:
(tons) 1120 (sf)
1232 (sm)
1545 (total)
Length: (m) 76,76 oa
58,75 ph
Beam: (m) 6,86 oa
4,44 ph
Draught: (draft) 4,67 m
Height: 9,60 m
Power: (hp) 4400 (sf)
1000 (sm)

Speed:
(knots) 19 (sf)
7,3 (sm)
Range:
(miles / knots) 13850/10 (sf)
63/4 (sm)
Torpedoes: 22
4/2 (bow / stern tubes)
Mines: 44 TMA
Deck gun: 105/45
110 rounds
Crew: 48-56 men
Max depth: ca. 230 m
(755 feet)

May we do our best to serve the Krigsmarine,all those u-boats will break off into smaller groups once contact with the above sea vessels has occured..

Admerial Fritz-julius lemp

Germany is sending out it's first u-boat pack to the indian ocean to assist the Ships positioned there,the fleet will include..

U-167, U-168, U-169, U-170, U-183, U-184, U-185, U-186, U-187, U-188, U-189, U-190, U-191, U-192, U-193, U-194,
U-525, U-526, U-527, U-528, U-529, U-530, U-531, U-532, U-533, U-534, U-535, U-536, U-537, U-538, U-539, U-540, U-541, U-542, U-543, U-544, U-545, U-546, U-547, U-548, U-549, U-550,
U-801, U-802, U-803, U-804, U-805, U-806, U-841, U-842, U-843, U-844, U-845, U-846, U-853, U-854, U-855, U-856, U-857, U-858, U-865, U-866, U-867, U-868, U-869, U-870, U-877, U-878, U-879, U-880, U-881, U-889,
U-1221, U-1222, U-1223, U-1224, U-1225, U-1226, U-1227, U-1228, U-1229, U-1230, U-1231, U-1232, U-1233, U-1234, and U-1235.

all to arrive in about a week or so..half hour real life,boat types are IXC: spesifacations are...

Displacement:
(tons) 1120 (sf)
1232 (sm)
1545 (total)
Length: (m) 76,76 oa
58,75 ph
Beam: (m) 6,86 oa
4,44 ph
Draught: (draft) 4,67 m
Height: 9,60 m
Power: (hp) 4400 (sf)
1000 (sm)

Speed:
(knots) 19 (sf)
7,3 (sm)
Range:
(miles / knots) 13850/10 (sf)
63/4 (sm)
Torpedoes: 22
4/2 (bow / stern tubes)
Mines: 44 TMA
Deck gun: 105/45
110 rounds
Crew: 48-56 men
Max depth: ca. 230 m
(755 feet)

May we do our best to serve the Krigsmarine,all those u-boats will break off into smaller groups once contact with the above sea vessels has occured..

Admerial Fritz-julius lemp

Germany is sending out it's first u-boat pack to the indian ocean to assist the Ships positioned there,the fleet will include..

U-167, U-168, U-169, U-170, U-183, U-184, U-185, U-186, U-187, U-188, U-189, U-190, U-191, U-192, U-193, U-194,
U-525, U-526, U-527, U-528, U-529, U-530, U-531, U-532, U-533, U-534, U-535, U-536, U-537, U-538, U-539, U-540, U-541, U-542, U-543, U-544, U-545, U-546, U-547, U-548, U-549, U-550,
U-801, U-802, U-803, U-804, U-805, U-806, U-841, U-842, U-843, U-844, U-845, U-846, U-853, U-854, U-855, U-856, U-857, U-858, U-865, U-866, U-867, U-868, U-869, U-870, U-877, U-878, U-879, U-880, U-881, U-889,
U-1221, U-1222, U-1223, U-1224, U-1225, U-1226, U-1227, U-1228, U-1229, U-1230, U-1231, U-1232, U-1233, U-1234, and U-1235.

all to arrive in about a week or so..half hour real life,boat types are IXC: spesifacations are...

Displacement:
(tons) 1120 (sf)
1232 (sm)
1545 (total)
Length: (m) 76,76 oa
58,75 ph
Beam: (m) 6,86 oa
4,44 ph
Draught: (draft) 4,67 m
Height: 9,60 m
Power: (hp) 4400 (sf)
1000 (sm)

Speed:
(knots) 19 (sf)
7,3 (sm)
Range:
(miles / knots) 13850/10 (sf)
63/4 (sm)
Torpedoes: 22
4/2 (bow / stern tubes)
Mines: 44 TMA
Deck gun: 105/45
110 rounds
Crew: 48-56 men
Max depth: ca. 230 m
(755 feet)

May we do our best to serve the Krigsmarine,all those u-boats will break off into smaller groups once contact with the above sea vessels has occured..

Admerial Fritz-julius lemp

(that's a rather large deployment for what I'd imagine is a fairly minor theatre, isn't it? :?)

Graf Spee probably wouldn't know it, but her last full broadside had wreaked havoc on Queen Jessica. 11" shells had torn through her largely exposed radranger gear, thrashing most of the communication and locator gear. The conning tower was also heavily damaged, forcing Halders and the senior officers to retreat to the bridge.

Jessica accelerated, trying to get away from the accurate German gun fire until her own backup optical targeting systems could be properly calibrated. One officer could swear he saw German torpedoes passing just aft of the Jessica, but damage crews were too busy trying to contain fires in the superstructure to pay much attention.

Accurate German gun fire continued to rain on Jessica as she retreated south-west, jamming the aft 12" turret and putting several 8" guns out of action. Jessica's primary guns returned fire, but were hindered by inability to predict range properly.

Before Jessica's radranger and communication gear had been put out of action, she had the report of a new ship to the north-west, and that the Iansislean cruiser group was still several hours out at thirty knots.

(erk. Folk need to delete/shorten their accidental repeat posts! I think I'm travel sick from scanning down the page!)

I can't help worrying that this is going to get messy again. Two people controlling one nation with seemingly little co-operation on conditions at home or abroad :?
Has France fallen? If not, presumably the U-boats have a lot of British water to get through before they can even think about making the Indian ocean? And if WoS spots the great swarm of unescorted U-boats seemingly headed south to increase the threatening strangle hold on the African colonies, well British and north Atlantic waters are going to become a graveyard, I'd suppose.

Still, we'll be glad to see them go, I suppose- the supply line to Britain will be all the safer.

As the detachment arrived just north of the engagement area the battle became visible on the horizon. The MM Ariete accelerated, leaving its companion ships behind. The crew was at full battlestations and all the armaments were ready to be brought to bear. Its 5" guns were manned and fully loaded while all four torpedo troops were filled. The flag of Ercolana flew proudly above the ship and waved gingerly in the air. Normally the Fast Destroyer would be no match for such ships, but the damage already done to the dueling battleships was quite substantial.

U-167, U-168, U-169, U-170, U-183, at 150ft creeped along the bottom of the ocean,captain Hubert Lantz of U-167 the leader of the pack sat in his chair calmly reading a novel"heer kapitain! the rest of the U-boats have broken off and went to their sectors,us and 2 other groups of 5 have been ordered to the indian ocean immeaditly,Lantz stood up"ok men,onto the indian ocean we go!!raise us 25 feet,i want cheaks done on the torpedo bay along with the officers mess hall to cook me up somthing to eat..i havn't eaten all day,do we know the positions of the other groups"announced the Captain,"yes sir,we are all 1 mile apart in a line,Hq orderd that formation incase one of our groups encounters action..they will think there is only 1,then the rest of us engauge.."said the ensign,"ok,i want a all systems cheak,pipes,boilers,engine,now!"orderd lantz heading to his quarters..

ALL THEM U-BOATS AN'T GOING TO INDIAN OCEAN,AND I WILL WORK SIDE BY SIDE WITH KRIGSMARINE,I KNOW ALOT ABOUT U-BOATS AND TACTICS :),AND THE BRITTISH CONTROLLED WATERS WILL BE A GRAVE YARD...TO MY U-BOAT PACKS HAHA :) HAVE FUN

OOC- Duly noted, Walmington. I promise I won't do anything to upset the balance. If any problems develop, don't be afraid to speak up. And dude, take your caps lock off.

IC-Graf Spee's executive officer took stock of the situation aboard the badly damaged raider. Of Capt. Reinike and the bridge crew there was no sign; one could only assume they had been killed during the battle. Roughly 197 other sailors had lost their lives in the half-hour battle; a terrible price to pay for the crew of the Spee.
The severity of the damage aboard the ship was still coming in, but the reports already given to the new captain were equally grim. The bridge had been completely destroyed, along with the primary fire director, radar set, and wireless antenna. A secondary command post had been set up near the forward turret, but many of the systems aboard were still out. Both 11" batteries were still functional, however, as well as the majority of the 10.5 cm secondary guns and the torpedo tubes. The engines and steering appeared to be functional as well, but the ship was down nearly 8' at the bow, and taking on water faster than it could be pumped out. Damage control crews were busy trying to slow the flooding, but things looked grim for the Graf Spee, who could not even place a call for help. The newly appointed captain of the crippled raider, was faced with a tough decision; attempt to chase down and destroy the Queen Jessica, or try and control the damage onboard his own ship and stay afloat long enough to hope for a rescue. The extent of the damage aboard the Iansislian warship was unknown, but a large column of black smoke indicated that the Graf Spee had scored significantly as well. After only a brief hesitation, the captain ordered the raider to make her best speed after the Queen Jessica, while the damage control crews worked feverishly to stem the flooding in the bow.

OOC- The Spee's only going to be able to make about 22 knots with the damage she's taken. Also, she has to rely on visual sighting to track down the Jessica, if she can even match her speed that is! Let me know where you see this going from here. :wink: :wink: :roll:

(I had Jessica's damage as hardly controled fires in the superstructure, a very damaged conning tower, destroyed radar and communication gear, a weakened forward 12" turret, and a large hole above the forward ammunition cashe. If you think this is too much / too little / just right your opinion would be welcome. I don't think it would affect the speed of my ship any, but she'd probably turn to fight, anyway.

I think that this incident wil cause an official announcment from the Iansiselan government, and probably a declaration of war upon Germany. Depending on events in the South China Sea - I belive Chaing Mai has the invasion of Galla-China planned - a small expeditionary force, a detachment of aeroflyers, and a squadron of ships will be sent to Britain / Walmington. Iansisle, again depending on the events is S.E. Asia may even start a full scale military build up (with actual conscription / partial governmental control of industry), but that's a last ditch result in the event of war with German, Ercolana, Chaing Mai, and Hainan.)

"Sir, she's giving chase!" exclaimed a young lookout, pointing over Jessica's stern. Halders shifted uncomfortably - he didn't like conducting the battle from the bridge, but he had been lucky to escape Jessica's burning conning tower with his life. Raising his glasses to his face, Halders took in the scene.

The German raider was coming on as fast as she could, roughly thirty-five thousand yards astern. Shots from her 11" guns came down every now and then, but they obviously didn't have the range to Jessica. The Spee also looked heavy in the bow, as if she were taking on a lot of water.

"Mr. Sobitar, what is the state of our fire control?"

His gunnery officer, a young Gallagan, checked a sheet of paper. "Not good, sir. The radranger was destroyed entirely, and the optical system was heavily damaged. We'd have a rough idea where to fire - but not a good one."

Halders paced the bridge, looking out at his own ship. Men rushed to control a fire - black smoke was pouring from the superstructure where 11” shells had struck. Overall, he considered, it could be much worse - but it could be a lot better, too, if only Jessica’s belt wasn’t so low in the ship.

The German raider was chasing him - he had originally intended to retire for a short period to control damage, before reentering the fray - but now he was afraid to reengage. She may be faking the fire control problems, and be waiting to rake Jessica with a hail of bullets when she turned back.

“Sir?” said the same young lookout from forward. “A Calarcan merchantman in front of us...”

Halders suddenly had an idea. The Germans may not know there was also a cruiser group in the Gallagan Ocean...

“Get a flasher set up! Signal the merchantman, have him send a wireless to Nusheld - ‘Jessica engaged Graf Spee...turbines damaged; now running to Vollumbo.’ Do it, man!” he snapped. “Helm, change course to a new heading for Vollumbo in Walmingtonish Ceyloba. Slow to twenty three knots, but increase speed if the Spee starts gaining!”

Halders crossed his fingers and hoped the commander of that cruiser squadron would get the message, and change to the correct course heading.

OOC: If you go to the north west you'll pass within sight of my merchanter, and the captain is a gossipy gab who'll hit the morse running and spread the news all over the area.

The captain of the merchanter heard the gunfire and peered over the side int he direction of the two streaks of smoke.

"Ah do wonder what the daft buggars are up to, whats the point in scaring the fish at this time of day" he muttered before returning to his fishing line over the stern, where he was trolling for tuna.

(finished last post, including Calarca's merchantman.)

A flicker of light on the horizon captured the captains attention as he was calmly lighting his pipe while his line was wrapped around a nearby post.

"Hmmph... Its a damn warship, smoky one too, wonder what they're saying, and Why."

Peering out under shaded eyes he read the message, meanwhile from above him the dozing lookout woke and looked around.

"Eh?? Hey Cap'n Theres sommut fonny astern."

"Shuddup ya daft booby, Ah know that."

Shortly afterward, having pieced together the message the captain sat up suddenly.

"What the F***k, Graf Spee, Thats a Commerce Raider!!!"

Bellowing like a wounded bull the captain dashed panting for the engine room communication tube and screamed down it.

"FULL SPEED NOW! WE'VE A BLOODY COMMERCE RAIDER ON OUR TAIL!!!"

before dashing to the wireless room, at the door the hapless seaman on radio watch duty was emerging sleepily to see what the noise was when he was knocked right back in as the captain collided with him.
By the time he got up the captain was franticly broadcasting in fast morse.

RRR, Graf Spree located XXXlat XXXlong, RRR, Jessica engaged Graf Spee at XXXlat XXXlang, RRR Jessica enroute Vollumbo with Graf Spee, RRR help at XXXlat XXXlong RRR

Above the wireless shack the funnels belched thick black smoke as the frantic stokers shoveled in the coal, knowing that if the raider wanted them, there was no way a single .303 rifle kept to chase off sharks would keep a Capital ship away. Meanwhile on the deck the abandoned pipe smoldered slowly.