obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
I mean, I could start shipping the Akizuki's if you want. Their appearance and mannerisms certainly are on the older edge of the destroyer appearance-and-mannerism spectrum and thus fall into the shippable category as far as I'm concerned. Still not old enough for lewding of course, which is what bulling would imply, but then I can't think of a destroyer who is.
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
you do realize the 20 knot speed for a container ship is when its unloaded right, fully loaded their only a knot faster at best.
Another one of Ari's boys is coming home.
USS Arizona survivor Clarendon 'Clare' Hetrick dies
USS Arizona survivor Clarendon 'Clare' Hetrick dies
Old Iron produces FEELS
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Not intended to be canon, but perhaps a little memoriam at least. It didn't feel quite right to use his name in this, so I left it out...
* * * * *
The hour was late and a rare moment of peace had settled over the household.
It was not to last however.
The door to Admiral Richardson's room was nearly torn from its hinges as a figure wrapped in a nightgown all but charged through it.
Richardson had barely enough time to awaken before he found himself slammed against the mattress and backboard by a wailing redhead. He bit back a bark of pain as he was further pressed against far less pliable surfaces. It was only the anguished cries that stayed his tongue from demanding answers.
For the sight of Battleship Arizona wailing in naked grief was a sight that would transfix anyone.
He caught sight of the other residents making their way towards them and he carefully motioned for them to leave. They did so without hesitation or question, only motioning that they would be standing by if needed.
Even Jane obeyed with a teary salute as she clutched her stuffed ship tightly.
"H-He's dead, s-sir." Arizona's voice was raw and pained as he had ever heard it.
"Who is?"
"A-A member of m-m-my c-crew. H-His name w-was..." She buried her face against Richardson's chest as she said the sailor's name. She could not bring herself to say it to Richardson's face. Simply imagining that young man's face, forever stilled brought forth another sob. His name was beyond painful.
It was the first crewman she had lost since she had returned.
And it felt as though she was losing each and every one of them all over again...
It didn't matter how she knew, only that she knew he had passed. Perhaps it was because she lived as a grave to the fallen? Or perhaps it was the manner in which she was remembered. All that mattered was that she knew. And the pain was unlike anything she had felt since that wretched December morn.
Richardson could not find the words. What could he say? Empty condolences? A prayer? How did someone offer comfort and solace to someone stricken in such a unique and personal way? All he could do was embrace the weeping battleship and rock her back and forth.
He would not need to think beyond that.
For the clicking of boots drew his attention to the now empty surface of his desk. Upon it stood eight diminutive figures. Each dressed sharply in the garb of United States Navy Color Guard. It might have looked silly had the situation been anything less dire.
They stood in two columns, their colors displayed proudly and brilliantly unlike anything he had ever seen before.
Arizona turned to see the scene at Richardson's motioning and she slowly released her iron grasp upon him. With slow, almost shuddering movements, she stood to face the guard. Her tear stained face was a mess, marred with sleep and snot. The very image of loss.
Then, upon the floor of the room, dozens. Nay. Hundreds of small figures appeared. Each dressed in their finest.
And in that moment, no one was in that room anymore.
They were in port.
And standing atop the deck of USS Arizona.
Fairies no more, but rather the crews they once were, now filled the deck to bursting. Every soul who had been laid to rest in Arizona's ruin now stood before her once more. And there were sad smiles gracing each and every one of them.
Arizona herself could not move, so stricken with emotion as she was.
Before anyone could say or do anything, one member of the guard brought a bugle to his lips and began playing. It was a song known to all, and so all paid proper respects to the haunting tune. As the bugler played, the guard stood aside to reveal a gangplank.
At the foot of the plank was a single man. A young man. One who had made the number remaining seven and then six with his passing.
Arizona was ushered forward, somehow attired in full officer's dress in the moment.
The young man raised his hand to his brow in salute.
"Permission to come aboard ma'am."
Arizona returned the salute as she wept.
"Permission granted, sailor. Welcome aboard."
And then the moment was over and all returned to the home of Admiral Richardson. Standing at his desk, holding a tiny saluting fairy, was Battleship Arizona.
"Welcome aboard..."
* * * * *
- Location
- france
Excellent.
The spiritual aspect of the shipgirls is one that is heavily debated around authors and readers.
What is a ship?
What is a shipgirl?
Is it the crew who give a ship her spirit? Is it the inverse? Is it both and neither?
Once again excellent.
Perfect man.
and also a grim reminder that they won't be around much longer. ya know a WW2 vet get all the stories you can, while you can and salute them proper when they go.
- Location
- State of Denial
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
You literally made me cry, I am not being hyperbolic here. A+ job.
When I read that, I can't help but remember:Excellent.
The spiritual aspect of the shipgirls is one that is heavily debated around authors and readers.
What is a ship?
What is a shipgirl?
Is it the crew who give a ship her spirit? Is it the inverse? Is it both and neither?
Once again excellent.
~Part of the ship, Part of the crew...~
esseresse
R'lyth Power Make-up
- Location
- divorceville, state of depression
- Pronouns
- They/Her
was thinking Kant-o-celle quest but that too.
Extra! Deleted Scene!
- Location
- 'Murica
Whelp, I'm not feeling so hot, so instead of writing something useful, Imma post some bonus content. (I found my draft of the original way the last chapter went.)
There were precious few things battleship New Jersey enjoyed more than eating. Most of those things involved crushing her enemies with her rifles, driving them before her bow wake, and/or hearing the lamentations of their women. But one of those things was makingfood, especially for someone she loved. Someone who deserved it. It took all of three seconds for the battleship to volunteer to man the kitchen for the day's breakfast.
Plus, after her little midnight snack—if you can call utterly devouring six family-sized bottles of peanut butter a 'snack'—the Battleship wasn't quite hungry enough to eat breakfast with the other girls. She was hungry of course, she almost always was to some extent or another. But her quartermaster's complains were little more than muffled grumbles echoing in the back of her bridge. A little annoyance to be tuned out, not a primal need to be satisfied.
Even if the mountain of eggs she was grilling were singing her name in that sweet, buttery accent. Eeeeeeet usssssss they cooed to her, eeeeeeet ussss.
"Fuck you, eggs," Jersey smacked at the enormous pile of scrambled egg with her spatula. The uppity eggs promptly ceased their savory temptation, but a few morsels managed to make their way onto the stainless steel spatula.
"Dess?" Kongou pulled a tray heaping with strawberry scones out of the oven, her brow hovering a few fractions higher than it normally would. Like Jersey, the battleship was still in her cute little swimsuit, though she at least wore a baker's apron over it.
"Uh…" Jersey bit the corner of her lip. In hindsight, there wasn't really any way she could explain her little outburst. Not without a very long-winded explanation that'd make the poor Japanese girl even more confused.
"Uh, New Jersey-san?" Krishima gently nudged her elbow against Jersey's bare stomach.
"Yeah, wha-" Jersey felt something sticking to her chest, a little rivulet of wet running down the shallow between her breasts and slipping under the flag print of her Freedomkini. Shit. She'd just drooled on herself… "Fuck."
"It's okay," said Kisishima with a conspiratorial wink, "You're not the only one who finds Onee-sama attractive."
Jersey blinked.
"Yes!" Kongou somehow managed a proper curtsy. With a heaping pile of scones in her hands. And while wearing precious little more than a skimpy red-on-white bikini and frilly pink apron. "I finished baking the scones, Dess!"
Somewhere out in the dining room, the distinctive sound of a hand slapping against a Nagato-class battleship's conning tower armor echoed though the kitchen.
"You should know," Kirishima tugged at Jersey's baggy trunks to pull her closer for a bit of conspiratorial gossip, "She doesn't have eyes for anyone but her Teitoku."
As if on cue, Kongou let out a happy sigh and swooned against the counter.
It took Jersey almost a minute to process the bizarre sequence of events that'd just transpired. "Scones," she muttered.
Kongou and Kirishima tilted their heads in perfect unison. Both girls raised their index finger to their chins, and Kongou's little tuft curled into a question mark. "What?"
"Scones!" Jersey wiped the drool of her chin. "I was drooling over the scones!" The American turned back to her egg-covered workstation. "First the traffic cone, now this?" Jersey was about to make a comment along the lines of 'we nuked you to hard that one time', but Kongou bottled it up by shoving a piping hot scone into the American's mouth.
"Enjoy, dess!"
Jersey shrugged. "Than yuh."
"No problem, dess!"
Kirishima smiled. "Isn't she the greatest?"
Before Jersey could respond, a corseted destroyer walked up to the kitchen with a little plate in her gloved hands. One of the… uh… the AA-destroyers Jersey couldn't ever keep straight.
Jersey gulped down her scone. "Sup… uh… kiddo?"
"Can I have some eggs, please?" the little destroyer offered her plate with the kind of timid half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She almost looked like she expected to be turned down.
(This is where it links back up with the actual writing)
Plus, after her little midnight snack—if you can call utterly devouring six family-sized bottles of peanut butter a 'snack'—the Battleship wasn't quite hungry enough to eat breakfast with the other girls. She was hungry of course, she almost always was to some extent or another. But her quartermaster's complains were little more than muffled grumbles echoing in the back of her bridge. A little annoyance to be tuned out, not a primal need to be satisfied.
Even if the mountain of eggs she was grilling were singing her name in that sweet, buttery accent. Eeeeeeet usssssss they cooed to her, eeeeeeet ussss.
"Fuck you, eggs," Jersey smacked at the enormous pile of scrambled egg with her spatula. The uppity eggs promptly ceased their savory temptation, but a few morsels managed to make their way onto the stainless steel spatula.
"Dess?" Kongou pulled a tray heaping with strawberry scones out of the oven, her brow hovering a few fractions higher than it normally would. Like Jersey, the battleship was still in her cute little swimsuit, though she at least wore a baker's apron over it.
"Uh…" Jersey bit the corner of her lip. In hindsight, there wasn't really any way she could explain her little outburst. Not without a very long-winded explanation that'd make the poor Japanese girl even more confused.
"Uh, New Jersey-san?" Krishima gently nudged her elbow against Jersey's bare stomach.
"Yeah, wha-" Jersey felt something sticking to her chest, a little rivulet of wet running down the shallow between her breasts and slipping under the flag print of her Freedomkini. Shit. She'd just drooled on herself… "Fuck."
"It's okay," said Kisishima with a conspiratorial wink, "You're not the only one who finds Onee-sama attractive."
Jersey blinked.
"Yes!" Kongou somehow managed a proper curtsy. With a heaping pile of scones in her hands. And while wearing precious little more than a skimpy red-on-white bikini and frilly pink apron. "I finished baking the scones, Dess!"
Somewhere out in the dining room, the distinctive sound of a hand slapping against a Nagato-class battleship's conning tower armor echoed though the kitchen.
"You should know," Kirishima tugged at Jersey's baggy trunks to pull her closer for a bit of conspiratorial gossip, "She doesn't have eyes for anyone but her Teitoku."
As if on cue, Kongou let out a happy sigh and swooned against the counter.
It took Jersey almost a minute to process the bizarre sequence of events that'd just transpired. "Scones," she muttered.
Kongou and Kirishima tilted their heads in perfect unison. Both girls raised their index finger to their chins, and Kongou's little tuft curled into a question mark. "What?"
"Scones!" Jersey wiped the drool of her chin. "I was drooling over the scones!" The American turned back to her egg-covered workstation. "First the traffic cone, now this?" Jersey was about to make a comment along the lines of 'we nuked you to hard that one time', but Kongou bottled it up by shoving a piping hot scone into the American's mouth.
"Enjoy, dess!"
Jersey shrugged. "Than yuh."
"No problem, dess!"
Kirishima smiled. "Isn't she the greatest?"
Before Jersey could respond, a corseted destroyer walked up to the kitchen with a little plate in her gloved hands. One of the… uh… the AA-destroyers Jersey couldn't ever keep straight.
Jersey gulped down her scone. "Sup… uh… kiddo?"
"Can I have some eggs, please?" the little destroyer offered her plate with the kind of timid half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She almost looked like she expected to be turned down.
(This is where it links back up with the actual writing)
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Nicholas
No longer teaching battlethings on a battleship
- Location
- Ashore again
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Just because they made VT fuses for the 16 inchers doesn't mean they were ever used that way. Swiveling the turret to bring them to bear would throw off the aim of the AA guns bolted on top of the turrets, and depending on the angle the danger of overpressure would mean that several AA positions would have to be abandoned for the guns to fire safely. Better to just keep the main battery in place to maximize dakka.
The guns can only elevate up to 45 degrees which isn't high enough to be used as AA guns in any degrees.
Plus during them WILL screw up her other AA gun firing cyclics.
Plus during them WILL screw up her other AA gun firing cyclics.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
This isn't the IJN, bucko. This is the United States Navy. They aren't that stupid, desperate, or lagging in the AA department to be strapping Anti-aircraft guns to the top of the main battery turrets. Since, you know, even moving/firing them at surface targets would achieve that same disruption/danger.Well...
Anti-Aircraft Range
.
Notes:
1) The above information is from OP 1091 "A.A. Range Table for 16-inch 50-caliber Gun" for a 1,900 lbs. (861.8 kg) HC round at a muzzle velocity of 2,615 fps (797 mps).
2) Time of flight is in seconds. The time of flight in the range tables in OP 1091 go to the surface impact point, which is up to over a minute for elevations above 25 degrees, but I believe that the figures given in the table above would represent practical use against aircraft during World War II.
3) Time fuzes were probably set by hand on the loading tray. VT fuzes were issued late in the war, but these may have been intended as being more useful for shore bombardment purposes.
.
| Elevation | Time of Flight | Horizontal Range | Altitude | Slant Range |
| 10 degrees | 2 | 1,653 yards (1,512 m) | 271 yards (248 m) | 1,705 yards (1,559 m) |
| 10 degrees | 4 | 3,299 yards (3,017 m) | 489 yards (447 m) | 3,335 yards (3,050 m) |
| 10 degrees | 10 | 7,785 yards (7,119 m) | 847 yards (774 m) | 7,831 yards (7,161 m) |
| 20 degrees | 2 | 1,608 yards (1,470 m) | 559 yards (511 m) | 1,702 yards (1,556 m) |
| 20 degrees | 4 | 3,153 yards (2,883 m) | 1,054 yards (964 m) | 3,324 yards (3,039 m) |
| 20 degrees | 10 | 7,469 yards (6,830 m) | 2,188 yards (2,001 m) | 7,778 yards (7,112 m) |
| 30 degrees | 2 | 1,483 yards (1,356 m) | 829 yards (758 m) | 1,699 yards (1,554 m) |
| 30 degrees | 4 | 2,910 yards (2,661 m) | 1,584 yards (1,448 m) | 3,313 yards (3,029 m) |
| 30 degrees | 10 | 6,909 yards (6,318 m) | 3,457 yards (3,161 m) | 7,726 yards (7,065 m) |
| 40 degrees | 2 | 1,313 yards (1,201 m) | 1,074 yards (982 m) | 1,696 yards (1,551 m) |
| 40 degrees | 4 | 2,577 yards (2,356 m) | 2,066 yards (1,889 m) | 3,303 yards (3,020 m) |
| 40 degrees | 10 | 6,135 yards (5,610 m) | 4,611 yards (4,216 m) | 7,675 yards (7,018 m) |
| 45 degrees | 2 | 1,211 yards (1,107 m) | 1,185 yards (1,084 m) | 1,695 yards (1,550 m) |
| 45 degrees | 4 | 2,380 yards (2,176 m) | 2,284 yards (2,088 m) | 3,299 yards (3,017 m) |
| 45 degrees | 10 | 5,673 yards (5,187 m) | 5,133 yards (4,694 m) | 7,651 yards (6,996 m) |
1) The above information is from OP 1091 "A.A. Range Table for 16-inch 50-caliber Gun" for a 1,900 lbs. (861.8 kg) HC round at a muzzle velocity of 2,615 fps (797 mps).
2) Time of flight is in seconds. The time of flight in the range tables in OP 1091 go to the surface impact point, which is up to over a minute for elevations above 25 degrees, but I believe that the figures given in the table above would represent practical use against aircraft during World War II.
3) Time fuzes were probably set by hand on the loading tray. VT fuzes were issued late in the war, but these may have been intended as being more useful for shore bombardment purposes.
So can the 5"/39 Mark 12. Try something else.
Citation requested.
Last edited:
Stahor
BookWorm
- Location
- Russia, Moscow
You were saying?
In late-war US decided that surface combat and AA defense are not generally not happens at the same time.
The Missouri says hello.
All but two moderns went to 85 degrees.
The mod 22 was a Single Purpose mount while the mod 30 was for escort carriers and was put basically under the flight deck. So out side of the White Plains lucky hits they were basically useless.
On phone right now but I believe it either in Navweaps or one of the source links for the guns. Add in the fact it's generally a good idea NOT to be around those things when they fire...
Nicholas
No longer teaching battlethings on a battleship
- Location
- Ashore again
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Even with generally more accurate/better AA guns, the Americans believed in putting as much metal into the sky as possible, so they bolted Bofors mounts to any surface large enough to take them, and then filled any space that remained in-between them with Oerlikons. Just about every late-war US battleship had AA mounts atop the number 2 and 3 turrets (usually quad Bofors, though Iowa mounted Oerlikons atop her number 2 turret).
@theJMPer First: I have to say that I absolutely love this fic. Since finding it on fanfiction.net, I must have re-read it 2 or 3 times by now, and am always looking forward to the next main story post. Am very much looking forward to Jersey's battlegroup meeting with Wash's for the first time.
However, I do need to ask -- are we ever going to see CB-1 Alaska? She was mentioned in passing as being summoned in Texas in Chapter 34, but we haven't heard anything else... even when Williams wanted a CRUDIV, we hadn't heard anything. I'm looking forward to see any details about her, as being a "Large Cruiser" only slightly smaller than the IJN/SDF battleships, she'd be an interesting introduction.
However, I do need to ask -- are we ever going to see CB-1 Alaska? She was mentioned in passing as being summoned in Texas in Chapter 34, but we haven't heard anything else... even when Williams wanted a CRUDIV, we hadn't heard anything. I'm looking forward to see any details about her, as being a "Large Cruiser" only slightly smaller than the IJN/SDF battleships, she'd be an interesting introduction.