Arduous Devotion, Grim Peril: A Silent Victory Fiction/AAR

[BanzaiCat]

Of all the branches of men in the forces, there is none which shows more devotion and faces grimmer perils than the submariners.
- Sir Winston Churchill


This AAR is yet another I am writing, in the wake of many others on these very boards that are still awaiting my attention. I am doing so because this was the first time I was devoted to trying my hand at a fictional story wrapper around the mechanics of the game system as well as gameplay itself, much like what Airborne Rifles did in his excellent series of AARs.

The difference between this one and the others is, I decided many months ago to commit to completing a majority of it to paper, including the selection and creation of graphics to illustrate the story, well before actually starting it here. As of this writing, I have several 'chapters' already written out. The real challenge with this work was more finding the right images rather than actually creating them from scratch in Photoshop.

For the images, I 'raided' the Silent Victory VASSAL module for a few things; it saved me a step or two and therefore valuable time, so my thanks to whomever built that module in the first place. I also took a lot of screenshots from the movie, Run Silent, Run Deep, which I'd never seen before. I try to refrain from using too many images of the actors themselves (I don't intend to try to put in your mind that any of my characters are Clark Gable, Burt Lancaster, or Don Rickles – among others. But, I will use it occasionally to try to illustrate the mood of the scene I'm trying to describe. If it does not work, I'll stop doing it, but will likely use a lot of images from that movie that don't have known actors in them, regardless.

I'm not sure of the class of boat used in that movie, either. So, I take dramatic license not just with that, but with anything else in this story. I make no attempt to claim to be ANY kind of expert on U.S. Navy or IJN procedures or lingo, uniforms or rank, thought processes or environments. I did do some research on settings and vessels, but again, when I do get into detail, a lot of it tends to be guesswork rather than me intending to be the 'voice of the WW2 American submariner.'

If I get anything wrong...and I know I will...I have no problem with anyone reading this to correct me. I will make adjustments for it, if it is a big deal, or just a really dumb mistake on my part. Overall, though, I just intend to present a story around a rather excellent game system. 

Another thing. This is going to be an alternate history romp. A few things will happen that change the course of major events as they did historically, so I'm going to do my best to extrapolate what I think would happen.

One thing I've struggled with, is whether or not to include real-life historical figures. Originally I wanted to use the names of real crew that went down with their boats during World War 2, as a way of recognizing their heroism – as odd as it may be to do it in a gaming AAR. It seems more fitting since July 4 is right around the corner, and the Independence Day sequel sure as hell isn't going to fit THAT bill. So, I might still go with pictures of historical figures, alive or passed, to add some dimension to this story. I hope nobody gets upset, because that's not the intent at all, here.

And, I'm going to do my best to refrain from naming any of the characters/crew in this piece, as opposed to the main protagonist himself, as well as a few others related to the storyline. I've taken the liberty of using one or two of you already as inspiration for naming, but I won't name any more just yet. Anyone that replies in this thread, though, will be fair game for future officer or crew positions. Silent Victory allows for, from what I can tell, a Captain (already named), an Exec (XO), a Chief Engineer, a Pharmacist's Mate, a 3rd Officer, and up to four crew, as well as a 'Passenger.' The latter is usually for Special Missions, such as infiltration, rescue...that sort of thing. However, just because you reply to this thread, doesn't mean I'll automatically include you. It really depends on the turns this story takes. So, if you say something like "make me the XO," don't be surprised if you end up being Crew #4 instead. It will just depend on what happens in the future. This one is going to be a little different than the ones I normally do, obviously!

I'll also just say that I am attempting to re-write a novel series that I've been working on for the better part of 20 years. This will give me a lot of practice to that end, and any critique really is welcome – not just that related to me flubbing how things are done.

And, finally: I am my own biggest critic when it comes to my fiction writing. Everything I commit to paper seems to just be lame and terrible to me, even though I've been told I do it well enough. I can't quite wrap my head around that. This is probably why, too, it's taken me 20-some years to work on my trilogy of novels. In any case, if you find this lame, then yes, I might be so inclined to agree with you. That's just the way I'm wired.

Thanks for reading. I hope you get as much enjoyment out of reading this, as I get out of putting it all together!

[BanzaiCat]

Chapter 1: Introduction

The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
- Alexander Smith

December 12, 1941
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
0758 Local Time

The naval staff car pulled up to the front of 29 Makalapa Drive, just a few blocks from CINCPAC Headquarters, itself on the very edge of Pearl Harbor. The trees swayed in a breeze that still carried the stink of death and fire from the Japanese attack earlier in the week; it seemed to permeate everything. A pall of smoke clung to the shores of Pearl Harbor, fed by a seemingly never-ending smoldering stench that still poured from the few remaining ships that still, days later, refused to die.


29 Makalapa Drive. The front door faces in the opposite direction from Pearl Harbor.

Lieutenant Radley F. Kadoe, USN, stepped out of the small BOQ (Bachelor Officer's Quarters) bungalow that he shared with three other low-ranking Navy officers. He wore very few ribbons or decorations on his khaki uniform, but his six-foot frame filled it well enough. He did his best to stay in shape, because it was hard enough navigating the cramped confines of a submarine when you're tall, let alone wide in the hips. His gray eyes were almost white, set in a ruddy face that came from years at sea as opposed to heavy drinking (with some Naval officers, it was from both). His jet-black hair was from his brunette Irish mother, whereas his 'good looks' (as his father reminded him) came from his side of the family, from Norway. (His father didn't know whether to be proud, or disturbed, that his son had Norwegian blood in him and failed to find a taste for liquor.)


Lieutenant Radley F. Kedoe, USN
Taken shortly before leaving San Diego for Pearl Harbor

Stepping out into the air of Pearl, Kadoe reflexively took in a deep lungful of air through a relatively narrow nose. Breathing deeply once he was outside, anywhere. was a habit he'd slowly developed after nearly ten years of submarine service. The smell of sea air, and the stink of the harbor, as well as the stench of war, all assaulted his sense of smell at once. Still, it was far better than the smoky mess of 3/4 of the bungalow he shared; his fellow USN officers smoked endlessly.

Another habit was his now-automatic 'go to hell' reaction whenever anyone had a comment to make about his engagement to a Nisei woman, which despite only happening two weeks ago, was now well-known to many throughout the base. This might have raised eyebrows back then, a lifetime ago now, or at most rankled the nerves of the less tolerant in the Fleet. But now, after the surprise attack, whispers and pointing usually followed in his wake. Some went so far as to suggest he had spied for the Japanese and helped set up the attack. That particular nasty rumor had earned a fellow Lieutenant, unlucky enough to bring this revelation to Kadoe's attention at the O-club late Monday night, a nice shiny black eye.

His fiancé was living near Los Angeles, back in California, with her mother, father, and four older brothers. Her father had bought a small plot back in 1919 when they first emigrated here, and it had a good amount of success with growing oranges and other fruit, enough to turn one acre into twenty and a good living for his family.



Since he'd met Sachiko on that very farm, his car breaking down nearby and her father putting him to work to pay for the phone call he had to make, it was love at first sight. By the time he'd put in a few hours of back-breaking work digging up a few dead trees to make room for new seedlings, she made a lot of excuses up to be back in that part of the orchard, something Radley had picked up on despite him being a squid. Her father had picked up on it too, a few weeks later, when Radley just happened to 'break down' again nearby. He had a few weeks off from an assignment in San Diego, and spent most of it helping out in the Top Orchard business. Sachiko's father might have been miserly and not happy with an Anglo taking a romantic interest in his daughter – and vice-versa – but Kadoe was a hard worker, didn't expect to be paid (even better), and was there every day he was off on leave. His learning of a few Japanese phrases impressed his sons, whom took it upon themselves to teach him the dirtier phrases of the ancient language.

Her father was also perturbed that his youngest daughter had not yet married, whereas all of her sisters and brothers had found good Japanese mates. It was good she was interested in someone, he would think to himself and himself alone, but he wished it was someone other than an Anglo man.

Because Kadoe spent whatever time he could out there, he had dealt with more than enough Asian-hating, chair-warming assholes over the last year, and especially in the last few months after he'd politely inquired into making her a dependent, as his wife. Now, he thought with equal measures of anger, grief, and fear, it was highly doubtful that marriage would happen. Hell, he thought, the shit now had really hit the fan, and he doubted tolerance of Japanese Americans would be at an all-time high; his own insistence in pursuing the matter with his commanders, in fact, hadn't exactly endeared him with them, and over the last few days he'd had to endure more than his share of slurs, evil looks, and even fists.



The posters that began going up everywhere in record time, didn't help matters at all. In fact, it drew even more attention to him. He had had his first actual thoughts of quitting the Navy for the first time in his life, as distasteful as it was, the idea of working as a civilian...

Shaking his head and taking another breath to clear his head, he stepped down the sidewalk. He wore his khaki uniform, a more casual-than-normal  outfit for meeting with a Captain, but Radley was at a point beyond caring. He figured the Lieutenant rank, one solid black board on each shoulder holding two thick gold stripes denoting his rank. He'd held that rank for nearly six months now, though he was nearly thirty years old and having spent nearly ten years in the Navy. Promotions were not exactly fast these days, but the war would probably change that. Not that it mattered, now. Even though he'd graduated from the Naval Academy in '31, that distinction was pretty much the only thing keeping his career hanging by a thread as opposed to plummeting into the deep, dark civilian job market abyss.



He was, in fact, pretty damned surprised he still seemed to have the executive officer (XO) post on the USS Groghead, one of a handful of boats that the Japanese fortunately missed on December 7th. He was only one of eight officers aboard her...well, seven, he had to correct himself, as his skipper was no longer counted among the crew. And several enlisted men were wounded, one pretty seriously; Kadoe remembered the man's horrific gut wound as he lay on the dock by the submarine, explosions and fire raging everywhere, the red of his entrails poking out like hellish snakes...


A Zero fighter ready to take off from the deck of the Akagi in the early morning of December 7.


Battleship Row, burning fiercely, shortly after the first wave's attack.

He blinked a few times, both to remove the image from his minds' eye and to defend against the glare of the sun off of the dark-colored staff car, an innocuous "USN" and some forgettable number stenciled in chipped yellow paint on the side. It was but the first roll of the snowball, which would gather speed and obliterate everything in its path...especially his career.

Lieutenant Kadoe was pretty certain that by the end of the day, he'd be Lieutenant Desk-Rider, in charge of shuffling papers from one box to another. Today's meeting with the sub division's commander, he thought ruefully, was going to follow a certain path, which included (a) he was not going to receive command of the USS Groghead as tradition usually allowed, (b) that his Nisei-loving ass could screw right off to that desk job and possibly even (c) be introduced to the Marine Corps, or worse, (d) be transferred to the nearest Army latrine-cleaning unit.

Admittedly, the torrent of negative thoughts tended to build up on themselves, but Radley was enough of a realist to recognize that (a) was about 100% likely, given the circumstances, and the remainder didn't really matter at that point. Captain Brantski, the commander over the handful of subs at Pearl, was notoriously difficult to read.

And, ultimately, he knew he only had himself to blame. He's the one that sought out the advice; he's the one that asked around; he's the one that pushed it when the establishment tried to gently talk him out of it, or at least drop it for the time being. However, Radley had dreams of moving her here to Oahu, where the Pacific Islander population would likely make her feel more comfortable than southern California. At the very least, she'd be closer to him. But he hadn't broached the subject with Sachiko. Which is hilarious, he thought, since he'd more than broached it with the Navy. In fact he'd pretty much broadsided the whole goddamn thing.

Trying to push all of that from his mind, he stepped down towards the street. The staff car's door opened and a kid with sharp Italianesque features in a rumpled, well-used dungaree work uniform hurriedly stepped out of the car. Despite his appearance he walked ramrod-straight to the curb, facing Kadoe, stood at attention, and gave a crisp salute.

"Fireman Third Class Melvin Walter, sir," he said, with a thick New Jersey accent.


Fireman Third Class Melvin Hillary Walter. Lost with the USS Grunion, July 20, 1942

Kadoe returned the salute, and then nodded to his uniform. "Someone pull you off of a more important job to pick up an officer that can't be bothered to walk a few hundred feet to the base?"

The enlisted man blinked, his brain trying to process what the Lieutenant said and what reaction he was looking for. After a few heartbeats, Walter suddenly looked very nervous, his cheeks flushing. "I'm sorry, sir. I only just got transferred and they put me right to work. Then the Chief was told to come pick you up, so he looked around and..."

"And he selected you," said Kadoe. The officer looked off, towards the harbor, nodding slightly. Probably Chief Bates. Not the most tolerant of men. When he'd heard of Kadoe's current romantic life, his personality went from its normal cool to absolute zero.

This is going to be fun, thought Kadoe.

He also wondered if he could ask Captain Brantski for a transfer. But then, he thought f*ck it, if the Navy is going to screw me out of a command, and pretty much my career, there's not much point in being an officer anymore, is there?

"Understood, Walter. I don't stand much on formalities when there's work to be done. It gets in the way and takes up too much valuable time." Before Walter could agree, Kadoe started for the passenger door. Walter tried to step in front of him to open the door but Kadoe waved him off brusquely, doing it himself. Walter got the message and quickly stepped around to the driver's side. Kadoe already was thinking, not without a bit of mirth, what officer pigeonhole this man was trying to place him in.

"Captain Smith sends his compliments too, sir. He requested that you report to him as soon as possible at headquarters."

"Captain Smith?" replied Kadoe, a measure of surprise seeping into his voice. Smith was the last name of the navigator on the Groghead. Surely he wasn't her captain, now...? It wasn't like there was a lot of Navy officers named "Smith," either...yeah, right.

Well, dummy, you had to go and ask your commander about marrying a Nisei, and his aide had overheard it, and by the end of the day it was all over the base that you're a "Nip-lover." Some were more tolerant than others, but those men were few and far between, especially after planes with red meatballs on their wings put more than 2,000 men and women into an early grave, and most of the United States Pacific Fleet at the bottom of Pearl Harbor.

"John Smith, sir," said Walter, starting up the car and looking over his shoulder before pulling the Navy Chevrolet onto the street, heading north. "He's from the Pouncer, served as her XO, sir."

Okay, that was new, thought Kadoe. "Never heard of him. Not too many 'John Smiths' in the Navy," he said, completely deadpan.

Walter risked a glance at his XO, and slightly grinned, an almost shy upturning of the right side of his mouth. "Neither had any of us, sir, until yesterday."

Great, thought Kadoe. Guess they're not giving the Groghead to a 'Nip-lover.' The thought enraged him, even though he'd been expecting it. He'd talked about it at length when he was stateside with Sachiko, whom was much more pragmatic about Kadoe's career and, while she wanted nothing more than to marry him, she very much was aware of what such a bonding would bring to Radley and his Naval career. Sachiko's family was less supportive; their daughter had been born in Japan shortly before they moved to the United States, and even though they lived with relatives whom had been in the States for two generations, it was difficult for them to shed their traditions and outlooks. Kadoe and Sachiko had worked for nearly a year and a half to thaw the ice, and had just started making a breakthrough, when he was ordered to report to the Groghead in San Diego. He'd only been back twice in that time on leave, but carried on an almost daily correspondence with Sachiko, and after she recommended it, started writing her father and mother once every couple of weeks. It took six letters before they sent a short, curt reply – but the fact that they did was rather meaningful.

Shaking himself from his reverie, and knowing he hadn't written Sachiko yet, he moved his thoughts to something else. "Where are you from, Walter?"

"Uh...sir, I'm from Wyckoff, New Jersey, sir."

"Formal naval regulations may require two 'sirs' per sentence, Walter, but one is fine with me, unless we're around other officers, understood?"

Walter hesitated as he made a U-turn to go south towards CINCPAC Headquarters' main entrance, but also because he wasn't sure if his XO was messing with him. "Uh...yes, sir."

"We'll get along fine, then. How are things in Groghead's engine room?"

"S...fine, sir," Walter corrected himself. "We'll be ready in a couple of days. Had some major overhauling to do but it's coming along quickly, sir."

He recalled that when Groghead pulled into Pearl, she had been having problems with her engines ever since they got about halfway from San Diego.

"Good."



The remainder of the drive, a whole four minutes, went by in silence as Walter pulled the Chevrolet into the front gate. The normal solitary MP was now a squad of heavily-armed Marines with two equally-heavily-armed Navy MPs. One stopped the car, scrutinized both their IDs, snapped a salute, and let the car pass.

Walter let out a loud sigh through his nose.

"Different world now, Walter."

"Yes, sir," the enlisted man simply replied, not entirely happy with it all.

The Chevrolet was soon in front of the two-story, veranda-wrapped building that constituted the headquarters of U.S. Naval Forces, Pacific. The submarines were a few hundred yards away, opposite the front. The submarine wharf was crawling with vehicles, men, and supplies; the rest of Pearl Harbor was crawling with repair and clean-up crews.

"Captain Smith is in here, and not on the boat?" asked Kadoe as they came to a stop.

"Yes sir," said Walter. "Captain Brantski told me just before I left, sir, to bring you here since he was bringing Captain Smith here too, sir."

That was odd. Walter hurriedly opened the car door, but Kadoe beat him to it, stepping out of the solidly-built, dark-colored American car as Walter came around the corner of the vehicle, looking sheepish.

"Sorry, sir. Old habits."

"No problem, Walter. Why don't you go return the car and get back to work."

"Sir, Captain Brantski told me to wait and take you over-"

"To the wharf?" Kadoe interrupted. He looked off over the roof of the Chevrolet, towards the subs, letting his gaze linger for a heartbeat, then looked back at Walter.

"It's only a hundred yards, Walter. I think I can manage it."



"Yes sir," said Walter, with a hint of respect, clearly not comfortable with hanging around here in a dirty uniform. He snapped off another sharp salute, which Kadoe returned, and then hurried back to the driver's side, eager to get back to real work instead of chauffeuring officers around – especially officers that had no use for chauffeuring.

Kadoe took a moment to take in the wide, low-slung building in front of him. There'd been way too much to do and too little time. He, as well as the rest of the crew and officers aboard the Groghead had been chomping at the bit to get orders to go on patrol, especially after their skipper's brains had been splattered all over the conning tower as he directed the boat's .50-caliber machine guns to try to swat the hyper-nimble Jap planes from the sky.

Today, there were no funerals, no distractions; this meeting called for the submarine officers present at Pearl was the long-anticipated moment when Kadoe figured they'd get their orders, meet replacement officers, and start the business of preparing for war. Something they'd all trained for, but hoped would never happen.

At least, that's what Kadoe thought was going to happen. But now, thanks to the well-veiled tip from Walter, it sounded like he and his new Captain were having a meeting with their submarine division commander.

It was also odd, he thought, that Walter was a new guy, one he hadn't seen before on the Groghead. He further wondered if this meant they shifted a lot of men around on these boats, making for all-new crews. He wasn't certain that was a smart move to do before everyone's first real war patrols, but what did he know – he was just a lowly Lieutenant, one that wanted to marry a "foreigner" that was of a country that the United States was at war with.

If life wasn't interesting, he thought, it might be positively dull.



With a final sigh, he stepped up on the curb and down the sidewalk, towards the front door of headquarters.

[besilarius]

Very nicely done, Banzai.
As an aside, if you need more background, John Prados' book Combined Fleet, Decoded has some very neat details on Station Hypo, Joe Rochefort, Jasper Holmes, et al.
And I'd highly recommend taking as much inspiration as you want from Run Silent, Run Deep.  The author's widow, Ingrid Beach, is still alive in Washington, Dc, and gets residuals every time it is played. 

[Staggerwing]

Great read so far! More! More!

Only question: Is the name of the boat the Grognard, with 'Groghead' being a nickname? The two seem to swap back and forth a bit.

[besilarius]

Stagger, remember that the head on a ship is the bathroom.
Sailors like to play on names and be irreverent.  Grognard is the official name, Groghead refers to the crew's feelings and their pet name for the ship.

[Airborne Rifles]

I'm in!

[Staggerwing]

Stagger, remember that the head on a ship is the bathroom.
Sailors like to play on names and be irreverent.  Grognard is the official name, Groghead refers to the crew's feelings and their pet name for the ship.

OK, I'll buy that.

[Staggerwing]

(NM: Weird Double post.)

[BanzaiCat]

Admittedly I wrote and re-wrote that Intro piece many times, and it suffered for it. I missed some consistency, there. The boat's name should indeed be Groghead; thanks for attempting to put logic, though, where there is apparently not much, Bes! 

I tried to fix some of the time references so hopefully it makes a bit more sense. I must admit to not being very aware of what the exact consequences would be for a US Navy officer at the outbreak of World War 2 for having a relationship with a woman that was technically born in Japan. I imagine it would fall into the "not good for your career" category. I imagine Captain Brantski as being a little less tolerant of the BS and recognizing that Kadoe is a decent if not outright good officer and they're damned short of those these days, that he needs to be put on patrol. If he comes back a success, it would be a LOT harder for the brass in the Navy to get him pulled off the boat, especially if he has a fantastic first patrol. At least, that's my logic - as I said in the first post I could very easily be way, way off base. But that's how I'm interpreting it, and how I'm writing it.

[BanzaiCat]

Chapter 2: The Submarine

There is a touch of the pirate about every man who wears the dolphins badge.
- Commander Jeff Tall, RN

December 12, 1941
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

The Groghead is a Narwhal-class submarine, laid down at the Portsmouth Navy Yard in Kittery, Maine in May of 1927. The V-5, later named Narwhal, was her sister boat, laid down at roughly the same time, but likely first as her name was designated to be the class of these submarines. Originally named V-6, the Groghead was launched in an official ceremony on December 18, 1929, christened by Mrs. Charles F. Adams, wife of the Secretary of the Navy at the time.

The V-series of boats were originally designed as minelayers, but with Narwhal, the minelaying system was eliminated to free up more space, and this was done on the following Narwhal-class submarines (Groghead, Argonaut, and Nautilus, in that order). Overall, she displaced 2,780 tons surfaced, and just a fraction over 4,000 tons when submerged, with 371 feet overall of length and 33 feet, 3 ¼ inches abeam.


Narwhal (nearest dock), next to Groghead, shortly before their August departure to the West Indies.

She began her career by accompanying the Narwhal on August 11, 1930, for a first cruise to the West Indies; the Narwhal returned to Portsmouth a month later, on September 11, while Groghead returned on September 15. She trained in New England waters for a brief time before transiting the Panama Canal and arriving at San Diego on April 15, 1931. She officially received her name Groghead upon arrival in San Diego.

With four torpedo tubes fore and two aft when built, her offensive capabilities were on par with other submarines of the era...but this would change tremendously over her lifespan. More interesting were her two 6-inch Mark XII Mod. 2 deck guns, which were the same type used as secondary batteries on Lexington-class battlecruisers and South Dakota-class battleships. Clearly, she was meant to hold her own when facing ships on the surface, although she wasn't intended to go toe-to-toe with much heavier warships on a regular basis.


While this may be an older picture, it gives a good look at one of this submarine class's 6-inch guns.


Another view of the Groghead, this time during a brief posting to Mare Island, near San Francisco.

Over the next ten years, the Groghead patrolled the waters of the eastern Pacific, transiting as far north as the waters outside of Anchorage, Alaska, as far south as Johnston Atoll, and as far west as Midway Island, but mostly stuck to the West Coast of the United States. In mid-1941, with fears mounting of possible Japanese aggression, the Groghead was transferred to Pearl Harbor and stationed with the four other boats assigned there; several other submarines were still basing out of San Diego at the time of the Pearl Harbor attack.


The USS Groghead, during the Pearl Harbor attack. The other subs are docked just to the left, outside of the frame of this picture.

Groghead, as well as the other four subs, had most of their crews ashore at the time of the attack; the skeleton crew about the Groghead, including her skipper, immediately took up their .50-caliber machineguns and were credited with downing a low-flying B5N "Kate" carrier torpedo bomber, as it lined itself up to attack Battleship Row. Unfortunately for Groghead, an accompanying Zero witnessed the downing and strafed Groghead and her sister ships in retaliation; the captain of Groghead was killed instantly, with several other crew seriously wounded (including two Machinist Mates, one Gunner's Mate, and several others). The attack resulted in casualties among the other boats, but the Groghead's commander was the only officer death from the submarines present.

Lieutenant Kadoe was ashore, having a very rare day off; having slept in to the very late hour (for him) of 0700, he decided to ignore his day off and report for duty. Otherwise, he would have been bored to tears. Days off in the Navy were precious for a lot of the enlisted men and most officers, but Kadoe himself had little to do in Oahu, had no special friends or girlfriends (only one mattered to him, and she was thousands of miles away to the east), and was otherwise devoted to his job as XO of the Groghead. He'd only recently received the new thick gold stripe that replaced the thinner one, now making him a Navy Lieutenant (equivalent to a Captain in the other branches), and it felt subsequently heavier on his shoulders. Being in the submarine force was something of a give-and-take with Kadoe; it gave him a thrill to be a part of something so small, so elite, and so important, but it quietly scared the piss out of him every time the narrow metal hull dived underneath the water. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic; on the contrary. He had a deathly fear of drowning. Not that any other normal person was thrilled with the prospect of that either, but Kadoe had had some genuine nightmares over the last six months over it.

Lieutenant Kadoe had been assigned to various submarines over the years, and joined the Groghead in 1938 as it conducted a refit in the San Diego Navy Yard. By then, the Groghead's crew had been shuffled around, so he was somewhat fortunate to come on board with a new group of enlisted men and officers. It would be late 1939, as war clouds broke over Europe, that Kadoe would meet Sachiko as he restlessly explored Southern California, alone.

His thoughts of the past weren't doing much to comfort him as he strode purposefully to the front door of the headquarters building. The entrance, normally vacant, was now flanked on both sides by Navy MP guards that snapped to attention at his approach. Their rifles were moved to the 'present arms' position in salute, and Kadoe returned it; before the officer's fingertips came up to the brim of his cap, though, the guard on the right smartly moved to open the door for him. Kadoe hated formalities like that while a lot of his peers reveled in it, like Roman Senators. It just embarrassed him, more than anything.

He stepped into the relatively cooler inside air, not breaking stride as he headed down towards Captain Brantski's offices. "Offices" sounded rather formal, where in reality the Captain had two rooms - one for his staff, including his aide, and one for him, which was much smaller than the staff room. It would be easy to find - Kadoe had been there before, but he reflected that were he new, all he would have to do is follow the sounds of cursing.

[Silent Disapproval Robot]

Nicely done, Banzai. I've been thinking of picking this game up.  It'll be your fault if I do.

[BanzaiCat]

Nicely done, Banzai. I've been thinking of picking this game up.  It'll be your fault if I do.

Considering you helped fuel my acquirement of X-Wing Minis for months, you're welcome!

[BanzaiCat]

December 12, 1941
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
0807 Local Time

Kadoe was stunned speechless.

"Sir?" he asked, barely hearing his own voice.

He sat in the small but relatively comfortable office of Captain B. R. Brantski, Commander, SUBDIV1, a shore post for the immediate commander of the boats moored barely 300 feet beyond where they now sat. Brantski was a good commander, even if his beltline pushed the edge of the desk more than it should have. Still, he'd spent his time and earned a great deal of respect as a submarine commander, himself.

"I'll read it more slowly for the Navy Officers in the room," he said, while grinning. He glanced down at the fresh page in front of him, orders typed up by his aide and signed by the Captain himself. "'Lieutenant Commander Radley F. Kadoe is hereby ordered to take command of the USS Groghead, effective 12 December 1941.' There's more, but it's the usual gobbledy-gook nonsense." He tossed the paper casually across his battered oak desk, and it fluttered to a stop in front of Kadoe.

Commander Smith (Captain Smith, Kadoe had to remind himself, but then remind himself again this was no longer the case, apparently) was not present, apparently choosing to vacate the office after having command given to him and subsequently taken away within a two-day span of time. Captain Brantski and told him to return to San Diego, where he'd command the next boat that came online, and that was that.

"Sir, I..." he started, then a flare went off in his skull. "Sir...'Lieutenant Commander?'"

"What?" Brantski said loudly, gruffly, impatiently. The older man sighed loudly. "That's why the Navy gets such a hard time. Did the Groghead leak diesel fumes? Were you dropped on your head as a baby?"

"No, sir," said Kadoe after each question, trying to suppress a laugh. Captain Brantski, once you got to know him, liked to joke. Those that didn't know him were doomed to stew in the mess of obscenities that he liked to lay down.

"Oh, I get it," said the Captain. He sat back in his chair, which creaked loudly in protest. A knowing look slowly bloomed on his face. "You thought I wouldn't trust your 'nip-loving' ass?"

Kadoe blinked, but seeing Brantski's rueful grin begin to spread across his face, offset the automatic "f*ck you" that almost passed his lips in defense. Kadoe grudgingly dared a smile in return.

"Something like that, sir."

Brantski waved a hand dismissively. "Stop worrying about that shit, Kadoe. You're a good officer and the men like you." The Captain stood up, adjusting his beltline to ensure his uniform shirt was tucked in, which had come out slightly as he was sitting down. He walked over to the window, which looked out the front of Headquarters towards the subs.

"I suppose, sir, not everyone else feels that way."

"You have three focuses now, Lieutenant Commander, and none of them are Navy pricks whose opinions don't matter," said Brantski, his gaze fixed on something outside of the window. The Captain raised his right hand, still looking out the window, and ticked off three fingers: "Your boat. Your crew. Your mission."

"Sir?" said Kadoe, feeling his stomach finishing its excited flip-flops from having not just his command, but not coming to a sudden stop as reality set in – a mission. In wartime. This wasn't training anymore; the next time they saw a Japanese ship, they'd do their utmost to destroy it and kill as many of them as they could.

The Japanese will do their best to return the favor, too, said a thought at the back of Kadoe's mind. But, the realization that he'd now command the Groghead – his boat, he reminded himself! – more than overweighed that. Now, he'd have a chance to prove himself. He wanted more than anything to impress Captain Brantski, whom he knew had to have put his ass out on a limb for Kadoe in order to push this assignment through.

"Each of the boats out there," said Brantski, jerking a thumb towards the window and turning towards Kadoe, "are all heading out within the next few days...including Groghead. Your boat is to leave in two days, on the fourteenth, at dawn. 0600. The engine overhaul, I've heard, is half a day from being done. She's then going to be outfitted, which should take half a day – if her commander keeps the men focused. Then, he might give them a half-day pass to Honolulu to enjoy some R&R before the big day."

Kadoe's mind raced now, not just with the fear of submerging. That fear was now being crowded out as Kadoe's Navy-trained mind began to create checklists and things to do out of thin air, to prepare his boat for the coming patrol.

"Yes sir," Kadoe replied immediately, his voice much more confident now.

Captain Brantski slammed an open palm on his desk, making his pen set jump. "Damn right, 'yes sir.' Look, I'll be honest with you, Commander Kadoe. There's a lot of eyes on you for this one. Not just for the business with the Nisei woman, but because this is the first real move that we can make against the Japanese. We need a victory. Don't come back empty-handed." Brantski handed him a thick manila envelope, sealed, filled with the specifics of his mission.

"Yes sir," said Kadoe, standing up, accepting the large, thick envelope, standing at attention, and saluting.

Brantski returned the salute and said, "Dismissed. Get moving."

"Yes sir," replied Kadoe, smartly doing an about face and stepping to the door.

"Another thing, Lieutenant Commander. Wipe that goddamned grin off your face, just in case Smith is still hanging around. He's not pleased he has to go stateside to get his boat."

[BanzaiCat]

December 14, 1941
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
0551 Local Time

The first war patrol of the Groghead was clear: transit the central Pacific, with the destination being the Marshall Islands. At the Captain's discretion, follow the route indicated and search for Japanese shipping and warships. Sink same. Return to Pearl Harbor.

Return to Pearl Harbor. One could only hope, thought Kadoe.

But such thoughts were pushed far from his mind, as he supervised the wrap-up of the Groghead's provisioning and watched as she was made ready for sea. It would only be a few more minutes now; he stood on the bridge of the submarine, with his XO – Lieutenant Thomas A. Ryfels, a boyish but very capable officer that had barely made the Groghead's sailing.

Two other lookouts rounded out the watch on the bridge, waiting with the two officers as the Groghead was readied. Soon, the mooring lines were cast off, and the submarine slowly purred her way out into the harbor, through the ship channel, and past the outer buoys to the open sea.

"Make your heading two-seven-zero," he said into the bridge speaking tube.

"Two seven zero, aye," came the response. The Groghead almost immediately began a right turn, heading towards the heart of the vast Pacific. Soon, Oahu faded into the distance.

As it disappeared, Kadoe had the same thought that countless other sailors have had over the last many hundreds of years: I hope I see home again.

****


The game's Campaign Map. I put it through Photoshop to clean it up a little, so it might not exactly match the one that comes with the game.

In game, there are two Transit boxes between each Port and the target areas. Each move into each Transit area requires a roll, but only on a 2 (snake eyes) or a 12 (box cars) will something happen. Furthermore, rolling a 12 causes a Random Event to occur, as well. This can be good...or bad.

In the case of the Groghead, I roll a '7' for the first Transit zone, then a '3,' so she makes it to the Marshall Islands without incident.


The Campaign Map, but with just the Marshall's patrol route shown.

Once we arrive in the Marshalls (or any other patrol area on the map), there are five 'boxes' to move through. I have to check for an encounter in each one. The middle (third) box usually requires two Encounter rolls, in most of the Patrol areas.

[mirth]

Awesome stuff, BC  O0