Changing Destiny (Kancolle)
- Thread starter Skywalker_T-65
- Start date
Well, not quite. 5 of the 9 14 in. gun Standards were equipped with 14 in./50 guns.
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
actually Thompson could fix/mitigate this... the reason we didn't have enough is because
A. FDR and his Europe first policy meant that supplies to Britian had first dibs on those ships
B. King lost a lot of them in early 42 by not implementing convoys (and cities not enacting wartime precautions) on the east coast, causing the pacific fleet to be further drained of them.
Having FDR's ear means that he could try convincing FDR to make King implement convoys/ force the east coast cities to turn their damn lights off from the get go.
CV12Hornet
Riter.
- Location
- Tacoma, Washington
Yes, but are those military oilers that are being diverted/sunk? Fleet and civilian oilers are built to very different designs.
- Location
- Pacific NW
With Richardson still on the job at this point, there is no guarantee that King will get promoted to CNO. The best place to put King is where people really need a boot up the backside, ie, BuOrd.
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
to be fair, the only reason offensive actions even started in the Pacific was because of his determination to make sure it was Europe first rather than Europe only...
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
Richardson, if anything, has more reason to push for the Pacific than King ever would. The man made it his life work to study the Japanese and how they thought/fought. He'll push for Japan over Europe anytime and anywhere.
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
Angled-decks are always useful, but only the instant everybody gets proper arrestor gear.
Cats on the other hand are pretty much going to have carrier CAGs & COs weeping in joy. You might not want to use them if you're doing a full deck launch, but for spotting 2-4 fighters only to be in the air ASAP with almost no wait time? They're valuable beyond belief then. Then its up to doctrine as to how to best use them, or ignore them. To use the aforementioned two examples, if you need to launch off a constant stream of fighters/fighter-bombers, as many as the back half of your flight deck can carry, don't bother with the cats, as you'd get them off faster just streaming them off. However if you have the dubious luxury of time to do things, rather than streaming them one-by-one, you could shoot off waves of 2-4 at a time + an initial flight speed boost. It'd also allow for less aircraft to have to be up on the deck at a time too, as they're leaving in groups of 2-4, rather than the aforementioned one-by-one-by-etc.
Personally, I'd go with streaming before combat starts and only if you're fairly confident your carrier(s) haven't been spotted yet, or you hold undisputed air supremacy over your own carriers.
If you're in the midst of combat (Midway comes to mind, for obvious reasons), then cats become downright critical. Land an aircraft, refuel/rearm it (possibly swapping pilots), move it up to the cat, and get it the hell off the ship faster than it could on its own. Considering some of the overall carrier losses at Midway were from being caught with planes/bombs/fuel on the deck, having a means to quickly launch (or in a real emergency, jettison) aircraft, would be invaluable.
Its only once the mass of aircraft start creeping higher that cats truly come into their own, and while its far FAR too late for the existing carriers, having that idea already on the table when the times comes for the Midways to be built? And the possibility of cat-launched aircraft far heavier than was seen in WW2, but were around post-war? Might get something like the A-1 Skyraider a few years early.
IIRC, one of the proposed alternatives to an angled flight deck was to stick one or more cats right in front of the island, angled inwards from it until terminating centerline at the bow, allowing a carrier to be able to pull off landing & launching, if obviously, only one or two at a time. I certainly wouldn't suggest it, and certainly wouldn't have Thompson suggest it, but likely enough, someone from the 1940s might suggest it while everyone is still in the habit of 'frantically throwing theoretical shit at the board and see what sticks' due to war breaking out.
-=-
I can't find the link for it anymore, but someone over at shipbucket's forums working on alt-ships suggested something like a cat, but below decks and in reverse, if much much slower. In that, rather than using a small car (or manpower) to wheel a plane back from the forward elevator to the rear, have a slightly recessed chain in the deck that pulls the aircraft straight back via attaching to the tail wheel (or a hook there, which might be easier). Dunno if that is even possible, but it sounds reasonable enough of a viewpoint from back then. I wouldn't do it, but I figured it might be something someone that doesn't have foreknowledge might want to throw out as a possibility. Weirder shit was tried. A lot weirder. TMK, it has never been done/tried, let alone theorized about. And if it hasn't by now, probably there is a good reason why not. But that's with foreknowledge. So again, another idea that someone from the 1940s might toss out.
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Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
B, might be possible to be dealt with.
A, on the other hand you're not going to see switched come hell, high water, or even the communists (especially the communists). And a President (nominally) beats an Admiral, when it comes to policy.
- Location
- 'Murica
So, as some of you are aware, I have my own Kancolle fic. In that fic, Changing Destiny is a published book series enjoyed by nearly all the girls. And one of those girls happens to like writing.
(By Alaska. Beta-read by Atago. And also by Cameron. I do not own Changing Destiny)
Large cruiser Alaska stood at proud attention, her immaculate dress blues hugging her svelte, distinctly-cruiserly figure in the cold late-January breeze. She couldn't say for certain just why Admiral Thompson had asked her to be here today. He seemed intent on preserving the surprise, only telling her to show up in her sunday best.
Which Alaska did, of course. She wasn't a battleship after all. She didn't get to do the kind of fancy diplomatic thing her bigger cousins—or… now the carriers—did. She spent her days in her working blues. Dungarees trimmed with bits of wolf fur to match the territory she represented—though word on the waves was Alaska would be a state soon! The cruiser didn't know what to think about that, she just knew she liked how her dress blues felt against her skin.
She liked getting to look all prim and proper next to her sister, too. Alaska was a rarity among wartime ships, she only had the one sister. She and Guam couldn't have been more different. She was pale as fresh-fallen snow, Guam's tan looked delicious, like half-melted chocolate. Her hair was white as a blizzard, and fell to the small of her back in furious, messy waves. Guam's hair was black as coal and kept in a short ponytail.
But Alaska loved her one and only sister. She might not have as many little siblings as Essex of Fletcher, but that just meant she got to love Guam even more! She hoped she'd get to spend some time with her sister after… after whatever Admiral Thompson wanted her to do was finished.
But even if that didn't happen, Alaska was happy just to see Guam again. She was happy to see Captain Fischer again. Especially since… well… she'd probably never see either of them again. It wasn't exactly a secret that Alaska and her sister were headed for the breakers. There just wasn't any place for a big-gun cruiser anymore. There hadn't been during the war, and now that the Russians had The Bomb… well…
Alaska knew her time was done. She was proud that she'd at least had some time to serve. What was it General MacArthur said? Old soldiers never die? Alaska was happy she hadn't died in battle. She hadn't done much in the war, but she'd kept her crew safe. That was something the young warship could be proud of.
"'laska, look!" Guam tugged at the cuff of Alaska's jacket and pointed furiously out into the cape.
It took a moment for the large cruiser to shake herself out of her melancholy. When she did, she almost doubled over with laughter. It was Missy! Old Mississippi was steaming out as fast as her plump little hull would carry her, and with a truly ridiculous contraption strapped to her aft like an oversized fanny pack.
"M-Missy!" Alaska giggled and waved at the plump old standard. "W-what are you wearing?"
"Oh," Mississippi chuckled and waved a hand at the two cruisers. She was getting up in years, and the war had taken its toll on her. Her hair was streaked with rust, and her outfit was a hodge-podge of her old battle-line finery and a few poorly-fitting destroyer bits. Her proud batteries were replaced with anti-aircraft guns for training, and there was that odd contraption where turret four should be. But still, the old battleship carried with her the effortless grace of a true standard. "You sweeties haven't seen nothing yet."
Alaska smiled, but her laughter stopped when he noticed Admiral Thompson looking right at her. His face was glowing and warm and she could tell he was fighting back the urge to tell her something. His wife, the sweet, soft, and impeccably stacked carrier Saratoga, held his hand in hers while struggling to clamp the other over her own mouth.
Alaska didn't know what that was about, but it made her happy. This could well be one of her last days, but at least it was a fun one. Even if she went to the breakers tomorrow, Alaska would still count this day a success. People were laughing and having fun! She was surrounded by her friends! There were even a few planes in bright orange paint flying lazy circles above. So pretty!
What a way to—
Wait…
"Missy, what are you doing?" Alaska cocked her head to the side as the strange Thing on Mississippi's aft slewed off her beam. It was like a turret, only not quite. There was no… turret part. Just a pair of rails huddled around a little shack with a pair of… were those rockets hanging underneath?
Was Mississippi going to go to the moon? Alaska would like that a lot. It would be great fun!
"Sweeties," Mississippi giggled in the thunderously loud way only a Standard could. "Welcome to the future!"
With a roar that sounded like a gunshot, only longer and dawn out over several minutes, one of the rockets tore off what Alaska now knew was a launch rail and roared into the bright blue sky. Then, like it was piloted by a very small man, the rocket stood on its fin and turned over towards one of the orange-painted airplanes.
Alaska let out a giddy yelp as she saw the rocket race toward its target. Not just at but actually toward. It was the most magical thing she'd ever seen! "Guam!" Alaska didn't dare take her eyes of the magical thing as she flailed for her little sister's arm. "GuamGuamGuam!"
"I see it!" Guam all but leaped into Alaska's arms. "It's so pretty!"
"Isn't it!" Alaska erupted in cheers as the rocket slammed home. So did the assemblage of Navy Brass watching, but none of them shared Alaska and Guam's giddy, girlish glee. Even Sister Sara restrained her mirth to the quiet dignity a married carrier with twins on the slips should.
"That was so cool!" said Alaska.
"Amazing!" said Guam.
"Missy! Missy do it again!"
"In time, girls," Mississippi chuckled and waited patiently while crewmen in long white coats rushed out to do things Alaska wasn't smart enough to understand. Alaska just fell to her aft and sat down on the gently-rolling water, contentedly watching debris spiral out of the sky. It was so pretty!
She was so enthralled with watching the pretty things she hadn't even noticed a certain Admiral walk up to the pier behind her.
"'Laska," Thompson said, shocking the cruiser out of her daydreams.
"Admiral!" Alaska snapped to attention. Or… at least the closest approximation of attention she could manage with Sister Sara right there. Alaska was too young to really suppress her girlish glee at the carrier's obviously maternal state. Babies! Wait! No! Admiral! "Um… hello, sir."
"Know what that was?" Thompson rested a hand against the crook of Sara's back. By the way she moved into it and the way he never broke eye contact, it looked like pure instinct. They were so cute together.
"No," Alaska shook her head. She was pretty sure Guam was doing the same, but her little sister had gotten very quite all of a sudden. Poor Guam didn't have as many years under her belt as Alaska did, she was still shy around the brass.
"That was a guided missile," said Thompson. "A Terrier, actually." He proceeded to give her a brief explanation, but all Alaska actually heard was "science science science science"
That is, until he mentioned one word she did understand. "S-sorry," Alaska tried to keep her glee in check. He hadn't meant that, had he? "What did you say?"
"SecNav needs ships to carry these missiles," said Thompson with a smile. "You and your sisters are to head to Newport News tomorrow for refit."
"Tell them the rest, love." Sara rested her head on the crook of her husband's shoulder and nibbled playfully at his ear.
"Well," Thompson hugged his wife close. "The two of you are the pilot program. Once we figure out what works, we'll finish Hawaii and Philippines to that configuration."
Alaska wheeled around in the water and threw her hands around her little sister. "We're gonna have sisters!"
Sky plz don't kill me.
Alaska's Omake
(By Alaska. Beta-read by Atago. And also by Cameron. I do not own Changing Destiny)
Large cruiser Alaska stood at proud attention, her immaculate dress blues hugging her svelte, distinctly-cruiserly figure in the cold late-January breeze. She couldn't say for certain just why Admiral Thompson had asked her to be here today. He seemed intent on preserving the surprise, only telling her to show up in her sunday best.
Which Alaska did, of course. She wasn't a battleship after all. She didn't get to do the kind of fancy diplomatic thing her bigger cousins—or… now the carriers—did. She spent her days in her working blues. Dungarees trimmed with bits of wolf fur to match the territory she represented—though word on the waves was Alaska would be a state soon! The cruiser didn't know what to think about that, she just knew she liked how her dress blues felt against her skin.
She liked getting to look all prim and proper next to her sister, too. Alaska was a rarity among wartime ships, she only had the one sister. She and Guam couldn't have been more different. She was pale as fresh-fallen snow, Guam's tan looked delicious, like half-melted chocolate. Her hair was white as a blizzard, and fell to the small of her back in furious, messy waves. Guam's hair was black as coal and kept in a short ponytail.
But Alaska loved her one and only sister. She might not have as many little siblings as Essex of Fletcher, but that just meant she got to love Guam even more! She hoped she'd get to spend some time with her sister after… after whatever Admiral Thompson wanted her to do was finished.
But even if that didn't happen, Alaska was happy just to see Guam again. She was happy to see Captain Fischer again. Especially since… well… she'd probably never see either of them again. It wasn't exactly a secret that Alaska and her sister were headed for the breakers. There just wasn't any place for a big-gun cruiser anymore. There hadn't been during the war, and now that the Russians had The Bomb… well…
Alaska knew her time was done. She was proud that she'd at least had some time to serve. What was it General MacArthur said? Old soldiers never die? Alaska was happy she hadn't died in battle. She hadn't done much in the war, but she'd kept her crew safe. That was something the young warship could be proud of.
"'laska, look!" Guam tugged at the cuff of Alaska's jacket and pointed furiously out into the cape.
It took a moment for the large cruiser to shake herself out of her melancholy. When she did, she almost doubled over with laughter. It was Missy! Old Mississippi was steaming out as fast as her plump little hull would carry her, and with a truly ridiculous contraption strapped to her aft like an oversized fanny pack.
"M-Missy!" Alaska giggled and waved at the plump old standard. "W-what are you wearing?"
"Oh," Mississippi chuckled and waved a hand at the two cruisers. She was getting up in years, and the war had taken its toll on her. Her hair was streaked with rust, and her outfit was a hodge-podge of her old battle-line finery and a few poorly-fitting destroyer bits. Her proud batteries were replaced with anti-aircraft guns for training, and there was that odd contraption where turret four should be. But still, the old battleship carried with her the effortless grace of a true standard. "You sweeties haven't seen nothing yet."
Alaska smiled, but her laughter stopped when he noticed Admiral Thompson looking right at her. His face was glowing and warm and she could tell he was fighting back the urge to tell her something. His wife, the sweet, soft, and impeccably stacked carrier Saratoga, held his hand in hers while struggling to clamp the other over her own mouth.
Alaska didn't know what that was about, but it made her happy. This could well be one of her last days, but at least it was a fun one. Even if she went to the breakers tomorrow, Alaska would still count this day a success. People were laughing and having fun! She was surrounded by her friends! There were even a few planes in bright orange paint flying lazy circles above. So pretty!
What a way to—
Wait…
"Missy, what are you doing?" Alaska cocked her head to the side as the strange Thing on Mississippi's aft slewed off her beam. It was like a turret, only not quite. There was no… turret part. Just a pair of rails huddled around a little shack with a pair of… were those rockets hanging underneath?
Was Mississippi going to go to the moon? Alaska would like that a lot. It would be great fun!
"Sweeties," Mississippi giggled in the thunderously loud way only a Standard could. "Welcome to the future!"
With a roar that sounded like a gunshot, only longer and dawn out over several minutes, one of the rockets tore off what Alaska now knew was a launch rail and roared into the bright blue sky. Then, like it was piloted by a very small man, the rocket stood on its fin and turned over towards one of the orange-painted airplanes.
Alaska let out a giddy yelp as she saw the rocket race toward its target. Not just at but actually toward. It was the most magical thing she'd ever seen! "Guam!" Alaska didn't dare take her eyes of the magical thing as she flailed for her little sister's arm. "GuamGuamGuam!"
"I see it!" Guam all but leaped into Alaska's arms. "It's so pretty!"
"Isn't it!" Alaska erupted in cheers as the rocket slammed home. So did the assemblage of Navy Brass watching, but none of them shared Alaska and Guam's giddy, girlish glee. Even Sister Sara restrained her mirth to the quiet dignity a married carrier with twins on the slips should.
"That was so cool!" said Alaska.
"Amazing!" said Guam.
"Missy! Missy do it again!"
"In time, girls," Mississippi chuckled and waited patiently while crewmen in long white coats rushed out to do things Alaska wasn't smart enough to understand. Alaska just fell to her aft and sat down on the gently-rolling water, contentedly watching debris spiral out of the sky. It was so pretty!
She was so enthralled with watching the pretty things she hadn't even noticed a certain Admiral walk up to the pier behind her.
"'Laska," Thompson said, shocking the cruiser out of her daydreams.
"Admiral!" Alaska snapped to attention. Or… at least the closest approximation of attention she could manage with Sister Sara right there. Alaska was too young to really suppress her girlish glee at the carrier's obviously maternal state. Babies! Wait! No! Admiral! "Um… hello, sir."
"Know what that was?" Thompson rested a hand against the crook of Sara's back. By the way she moved into it and the way he never broke eye contact, it looked like pure instinct. They were so cute together.
"No," Alaska shook her head. She was pretty sure Guam was doing the same, but her little sister had gotten very quite all of a sudden. Poor Guam didn't have as many years under her belt as Alaska did, she was still shy around the brass.
"That was a guided missile," said Thompson. "A Terrier, actually." He proceeded to give her a brief explanation, but all Alaska actually heard was "science science science science"
That is, until he mentioned one word she did understand. "S-sorry," Alaska tried to keep her glee in check. He hadn't meant that, had he? "What did you say?"
"SecNav needs ships to carry these missiles," said Thompson with a smile. "You and your sisters are to head to Newport News tomorrow for refit."
"Tell them the rest, love." Sara rested her head on the crook of her husband's shoulder and nibbled playfully at his ear.
"Well," Thompson hugged his wife close. "The two of you are the pilot program. Once we figure out what works, we'll finish Hawaii and Philippines to that configuration."
Alaska wheeled around in the water and threw her hands around her little sister. "We're gonna have sisters!"
Sky plz don't kill me.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Pretty sure the conversions we're just called CGs, but w/e. Not important. Point is, guided missile cruiser Alaska.
- Location
- United States of America
I wonder how much Fleet problem 13 is affecting either Thompsons or Richardson's thinking right now. The fleet problem in question showed that Pearl harbor was vulnerable to a carrier strike. Both Sara and Lady Lex would know this as the both took part in the exercise. The ironic part of the attack on pearl harbor ten years later was that an American admiral demonstrated the best way to attack Oahu .
- Location
- Nashville
Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean Marks 13, 14 and 15...
- Location
- Pacific NW
King suffered incompetence and complacency badly. He was very results oriented and was concerned with making sure the navy had the right kit for the job. If anything, he'll fight for the funding to have adequate testing of the torps until they're fixed.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Yes, that's why he said BuOrd needs a boot up the ass.
- Location
- Mountains of Appalachia
True, the problem is that even if we manage to identify the problems through testing up to and possibly including sinking something obsolete in a live-fire test, it takes time to fix the issues, test again to make sure that the problems are fixed and new problems didn't crop up, and then manufacture replacements and distribute them. With luck, we can cut the window of terrible US torpedo performance down, but we probably won't be able to eliminate it this close to the war.
That said, since it's 1940-41, the pursestrings for the navy are opened quite a bit compared to the 1930s and the funding to fix the torpedoes should be available.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
The Mark 13 is the easiest one to fix, because it basically needs a breakaway shroud on the nose and fins, which means it might, if they start now, be fixed by the war's start.
The Mark 14/15 have a bunch of problems that tend to mask each other, especially the magnetic influence exploder and the tendency to run deep.
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
IIRC, they could field fix the Mk14s in only a few hours by removing the magnetic detector, and the fish would work perfectly. It's only because of that Fucking Ass of an Admiral in charge of the Mk14s, kept ordering the magnetic bits'n'pieces to be put back in, is what was the major issue. He beached a sub CO who told him otherwise, AND was a decorated sub CO with several kills to his name, and did it anyways, completely ignoring that CO's reports.
Can his opinionated ass, and have them dumbed back a bit, and Mk14s work just fine in killing things.
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PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Actually, the contact pistol is built too lightly to withstand stress of impact, and would typically crumple without detonating on the preferred dead-on impact, because it's a bit of a strange design. So that's gotta be fixed. Granted, they could replace it with the Mark 8 Contact Exploder from the Mark 13, but I don't know how hard it would be to fit one of those to a Mark 14, since the Mark 13 has different dimensions from the Mark 14/15, even though I can't remember off the top of my head what the different dimensions are.
- Location
- Arizona
The Mk 13 is a very easy fix, yes.
But the Mk 14 and 15? Those had a host of issues. First, depth control (they ran too deep), fix that? Now magnetic exploders causing premature detonations. Fix that? Now *contact* exploder failing on a 90 degree perfect hit. Fix that? Reasonably successful torpedo... FINALLY.
For the 13's, just turn a bunch over to Caltech like historical, let them do their dam tests, get the pickle barrel and shrouds, and adjust the drop envelope... BEST AERIAL TORP OF THE WAR.
Ironically, a major part of that IS the expanded drop envelope. For every other aerial torpedo the envelope is 'slow down to barely above stall and low enough that the splash from the torpedo drop tickles your undercarriage.' For the Mk 13? Firewall your engine and fly at normal altitude... hot straight and normal. The Mk 13's ideal drop profile is such that a *modern jet* can drop them without having to risk stalling. Chew on that...
But the Mk 14 and 15? Those had a host of issues. First, depth control (they ran too deep), fix that? Now magnetic exploders causing premature detonations. Fix that? Now *contact* exploder failing on a 90 degree perfect hit. Fix that? Reasonably successful torpedo... FINALLY.
For the 13's, just turn a bunch over to Caltech like historical, let them do their dam tests, get the pickle barrel and shrouds, and adjust the drop envelope... BEST AERIAL TORP OF THE WAR.
Ironically, a major part of that IS the expanded drop envelope. For every other aerial torpedo the envelope is 'slow down to barely above stall and low enough that the splash from the torpedo drop tickles your undercarriage.' For the Mk 13? Firewall your engine and fly at normal altitude... hot straight and normal. The Mk 13's ideal drop profile is such that a *modern jet* can drop them without having to risk stalling. Chew on that...
Unimportant, but the conversions initially just appended the "G" to the end of their existing symbol, retaining their existing hull number. Somewhere around 1960, it was decided that ships with a primarily missile armament should just be designated "CG" (likely due to the fact that they'd switched over to "double-ender" conversions with none of the original main battery retained). Indeed, Long Beach was originally designated CLGN-160 during construction, changing over to CGN-9 somewhere around that time. (Interesting note: the early "single-ender" conversions of heavy cruisers to missile ships were retained during Vietnam for their value in shore bombardment... to the point that, once Talos was deemed obsolete and removed from the ships, they lasted a few more years as heavy cruisers, reverting to their original CA-series designations!)
So at least at the start of her conversion, 'Laska would be being referred to as CBG-1...
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
If you want King to see one of the shipgirls, have him meet Lex. He was one of her skippers, although he seems to be a major prick - both in this story and IRL - so it might not work even then.