Charles Dewitt
A Paladin With No Self Confidence
- Location
- Middle of Nowhere Appalachia
At the moment I believe it would be khaki, though one of the Atlantic Admirals (King I think) tried to get grey uniforms to replace them it didn't catch on.
Changing Destiny (Kancolle)
- Thread starter Skywalker_T-65
- Start date
- Location
- North Carolina
Which is amusing because things like trigger discipline. Keeping the finger off trigger didn't really become a thing until the 1970s IIRC.
Nicholas
No longer teaching battlethings on a battleship
- Location
- Ashore again
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It was King, yeah, and it pretty much died after Halsey took over in SOPAC. IIRC Halsey had a sign posted outside his HQ in Noumea:
In that wonderful grey uniform,
You do look terrific!
But leave it off while you're here,
This is still South Pacific!
It is kinda funny, especially for matters of historic representation, just how different weapons were meant to be handled back then. Pistols were taught to be used one-handed as well, and anyone using a modern two-handed grip would get looked at funny.
Hell, the M1 Garand's safety literally cannot engage unless the weapon is cocked, a far cry from today where weapons are expected to be unloaded and the safety engaged as well. Troops headed towards possible combat were instructed to load their weapon and engage the safety: "load and lock".
Hollywood reversed the phrase by accident, and of course that's the version that enters popular lexicon.
- Location
- North Carolina
Agreed, something similar happened in the film 1917. But that's off track.
Regardless USS Langley looks good.
That said, there's no reason that the girls who are shown exercising trigger discipline couldn't have been just, y'know, trained to use it during their basic orientation to being a shipgirl training, based on both current expectations and the fact that it does prevent accidental discharges (to the point where "accidental" is no longer a word in firearms circles, having been replaced with "negligent").
I'll also note that someone I know recently bought a replica of the original 1966 phaser pistol from Star Trek TOS, and discovered that it seems to be excellently designed for trigger discipline in two separate ways--the frame literally has a slot in it that the trigger finger can naturally fall into when extended, and the battery pack/grip has a rim around its slot that you naturally wrap your index finger just below, meaning that either way, you naturally tend to hold it with your finger off the trigger--so it's not like the concept of trigger discipline suddenly emerged from nowhere in the 70s, just that it wasn't heavily taught until then, but some people had been designing weapons around the concept for a while before that.
I'll also note that someone I know recently bought a replica of the original 1966 phaser pistol from Star Trek TOS, and discovered that it seems to be excellently designed for trigger discipline in two separate ways--the frame literally has a slot in it that the trigger finger can naturally fall into when extended, and the battery pack/grip has a rim around its slot that you naturally wrap your index finger just below, meaning that either way, you naturally tend to hold it with your finger off the trigger--so it's not like the concept of trigger discipline suddenly emerged from nowhere in the 70s, just that it wasn't heavily taught until then, but some people had been designing weapons around the concept for a while before that.
Chapter 64
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
Chapter 64
If there was any one thing she had learned, Enterprise reflected, it was that war- real war -was hell. That had seemed self-explanatory. An easy assumption to make. Yet she had never quite understood it before. No amount of exercises or training could have prepared her for the real deal.
At least I'm in good company?
No one had been ready for it. Not her Admiral, not her pilots, not anyone. The operational tempo wore them all down. Combat saw men come back battered and bruised at the best of times. Coated in blood from shrapnel or bullets at the worst, if they came back at all. Her runners and anti-aircraft gun crews were scythed down by strafing or run ragged fending off attacks. Even her Admiral was clearly being worn out by the stresses placed on him. His skin was taking on an unhealthy pallor and he constantly scratched at his neck.
If even Bull Halsey was being worn down by the War...
"I'm lucky, I suppose," Enterprise muttered to herself, sequestered in the back corner of her bridge. She looked at her unblemished hands. Tugged a little at her long blonde hair, doing her best to ignore the odd grey strand here or there. Bit her lip and sighed before continuing, "I don't actually get tired like they do. And I haven't really been hurt yet, either. Am I lucky like Admiral Thompson said I was?"
She tried so hard to not think about what her 'future' had brought. That wasn't her. At least, that was what she told herself. The future where she fought Japan alone, where all her sisters- even little Wasp -were sunk. Where Lex was gone and only Sara and Ranger survived alongside her. That was a future that Enterprise never wanted to see. Maybe that version of her had been strong. But, well, Little E liked to think she knew herself. That kind of strength would have been brittle. Shielding a broken figure beneath it all.
It didn't stop a grey-haired figure from haunting her nightmares. Cold red eyes staring into her soul. Judging her.
That isn't luck. That's just pain and suffering---
"Enterprise. Are you listening to me?" A rumbling voice startled her out of those thoughts. Admiral Halsey, for his part, just stared and scratched at his chin when he spoke, again, "Stop drifting off like that. I need you clear and focused. Understood?"
While particularly colorful language from her crew flashed through her mind, Enterprise snapped to attention and gave a sharp nod, "Yes! Apologies, sir, I was just..."
"Lost in thought, yes." Halsey let the gruff Admiral act drop, a small smile crossing his lips. He patted Enterprise on the shoulder, and moved to stand beside her. "How have you been holding up, Enterprise? Damn war is keeping us all busy. Haven't had time to check in with you in a couple weeks at this point." Scratching his cheek this time, Halsey glared at his hand and grumbled. "And if this nonsense keeps up, they'll pull me off the line. Goddamnit."
Any other woman and even Bull Halsey would have moderated his language. Hell, if Enterprise were his blood daughter, he would have moderated his language. But she was a warship and no matter their father and daughter dynamic...well, she had heard far worse. Sailors were not exactly known for holding back on their foul language.
For her part, Enterprise just looked at him with worried red eyes, "Are you sure you're alright, Admiral? Your skin is getting worse." She looked closer and her frown deepened, "Have you lost weight, too?"
Halsey grumbled, yet made no move to deny the statement. He scratched at his hand and grunted, "Can't get any damn sleep like this. Constantly scratching. You're lucky, Enterprise. You don't have to deal with things like this."
In another time and place, Bill Halsey would have already been in Hawaii, recovering from his skin condition. Soon to be sent stateside as it reached the point where he required specialized care to treat it. In this world, having Enterprise there to help him and take some stress off of his shoulders had allowed him to stay at sea longer. Fight harder and faster. But even Bull Halsey could only push back the inevitable for so long. And, with every passing day, his skin got worse.
"You really need to get that looked at, sir. You're only making it worse!" Enterprise's reproving tone said everything she felt about her stubborn father-figure. At least I can stand up to him now. I remember when I would do anything to keep him from being mad at me.
If the short snort he produced was any indication, the Admiral well remembered those days as well. "If I ever doubted you might as well be my daughter, moments like that remind me how much I've rubbed off on you. Keep that steel in you, Enterprise. You'll need it."
While most of the bridge crew chuckled to themselves, just as aware of Enterprise as Saratoga's crew were of her...one of the men walked up to the pair with a message form in his hand. He came to attention, patiently waiting for Halsey to grumble again as he scratched at his chest. The Admiral was stiff and slow in his movements, as his irritated skin scratched against the rough cotton of his service uniform. At least his crew knew how irritable the situation was making him. So they were careful not to step on his toes.
"What is it, son?" Halsey asked, resisting the urge to roll his shoulders for some much needed relief. Enterprise was probably right, damn her, about getting his skin looked at. "That's a report from the scout group, I take it?"
The younger officer nodded, "Yes it is, sir. Captain Murray wanted you and Enterprise to take a look at it. There's something...strange?" With a helpless shrug, the officer handed over the report, "That's what the Captain said, anyway."
Halsey arched his brow and took the report. Enterprise joined him, curious red eyes gazing over his shoulder. Halsey internally chuckled at that. Who knew warships could have a growth spurt? The young teenager had grown into a tall young woman, perhaps eighteen or nineteen in physical appearance. It was a brave- or foolish -man who commented on that, though. Entirely ignoring the ribbing of the crew over 'falling for a hunk of metal', none wanted to test just how far Halsey's fatherly feelings went. Bull Halsey was terrifying to the enemy and none wanted to imagine what he would be like as a- probably -shotgun toting protective father.
As his eyes scanned the report, however, Halsey's good humor faded faster than his sleep schedule. He tilted his head, his square and pugnacious jaw setting into a hard line. That is bizarre. What are we looking at? Can't be the Japs...can it?
"This make any sense to you, Enterprise?" He didn't move or pass the paper over, quite aware that Enterprise could easily see it over his shoulder.
For her part, the carrier bit her lip and frowned. On her youthful face it looked odd. "No. That's not like anything I've ever seen before."
That was about what the Admiral had expected, as he continued to puzzle over what the scouts had seen. "So it seems we have a mystery on our hands. As if there haven't already been enough of those in this damn war. Ever since Thompson started sticking his nose into things."
That was said with a grudging sort of respect. Halsey was still distinctly displeased with Thompson keeping his origins secret, even as he understood the reason why. That the man had managed to keep such a secret so long while doing everything he could to help the nation? It was worthy of respect, at least.
"Get a message out to the scouts, then," the Admiral looked back up at the messenger. "Have them get as close as they feel safe doing. I'd rather not be surprised by anything out here. We still don't know what the damn Japs are up to, as it is, and I don't want to be caught with our pants down!"
Snapping off a quick nod, the younger officer set off to do just that. As he did so, and Halsey continued to scratch at random parts of his body, Enterprise felt her frown deepen. She stepped back and let blonde hair fall down, shielding her face and her worried red eyes. There was one thing that Thompson had refused to let anyone outside the warships know and that she still maintained as a secret, even from her father figure. Something far worse than the Japanese could ever hope to be.
It can't be...can it?
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Damn weird thing, innit?"
Winging his Dauntless over in a wide turn, Lieutenant Carl Francis frowned deeply. His observer/gunner wasn't wrong in that statement. The young pilot, already a veteran of several raids, had never seen anything quite like it. When he and his squadron had come across this while scouting for the Japanese, they had ignored it at first. It had seemed like one of many just like it and nothing to care for. Why bother with something they had all seen many, many times before?
Yet, as they came closer, it just became stranger and stranger.
I have never seen a storm like this in my life. What the fucking hell is that?
The casual blasphemy didn't even register to the man, really, as he looked at the dark and roiling mass far below. Pacific squalls were nothing new. Enterprise had hidden in them before to avoid air attack. This one was strange. Cropped up out of nowhere without any warning, short as any warning could have been. It was small and localized in a way storms normally weren't. Strangest of all, though?
It was stationary. It hadn't moved an inch since they found it. A storm that just sits in place and doesn't move?
"You got the message back to Enterprise, yeah?" Francis continued to circle the storm, the rest of his flight following along in formation. At a respectful distance, mind you. None of them wanted to be the first one trying to dive into that mess.
The chuckle that came over the line made clear the answer even before the man spoke up again. Still, formalities and all that required a proper response. "Yeah, yeah, they got it. Not that they're gonna know any better than we do, you know."
"No, they probably won't, at that." Pulling up on the stick slightly, Francis angled his Dauntless to try and get a better look at the storm. "Goddamn, but does that thing weird me out. I don't like it."
There was silence for a moment, before his observer sighed, "Yeah, I feel you. And I feel that thing, even all the way up here. You feel cold?"
Now that you mention it...
Francis shivered, just a little, when he winged a tad too close to the storm. As if he was dunked in a vat of water. His Dauntless wasn't exactly pressurized or anything, but that sudden chill was unexpected to say the least. A couple of his flight mates said as much themselves, in their own cockpits, as the wing pulled away again. The pilot frowned deeply and reached for his radio...only for the chill to fade as soon as it came.
In fact, before his disbelieving eyes, the storm rapidly began to vanish. Contracting in on itself instead of blowing away like any normal squall would. Before he could even hope to get a message to Enterprise, the storm was completely gone. An empty and calm patch of ocean sitting right where it had been. What the fu---
"...what in the fucking shit was that?" His gunner's voice was subdued and quiet, barely able to be heard over the sound of the engine and the rushing wind. Quite the contrast from his normally energetic and cocky tones.
"I don't know. That was..." For his part, Francis trailed off and did the best he could to not think about what that was. A pop up storm that vanished without a trace wasn't necessarily weird. But the way that had happened...
Shaking his head in disbelief, Francis waved a hand at his wingman. Waggled his Dauntless' wings. And swung back for home with a mutter of, "Going to need a good drink after that. And a talk with Enterprise."
It was telling, really, that 'talking with the spirit of my ship about the weird storm' was...well. Less weird than the storm had been. For beneath the dive bombers, the sea had returned to a completely flat calm, as if there had never been a storm at all.
Far away, in the South Pacific, Admiral Thompson sat down the paper he was reading and leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh. Across from him were the captains of his two carriers, staring right back at him. They had been at this meeting for some time now, planning out their next moves against the Japanese. Perhaps more importantly, attempting to figure out exactly how to counter Japanese moves. When no one, least of all Thompson himself, was entirely sure where their fleet was. Or where it would strike.
With Coral Sea, the Guadalcanal Campaign, and Midway all completely derailed, well, who even knew?
My foreknowledge is pretty much useless at this point. At least at one point I could have made an educated guess as to what the Japanese would do. That point has come and gone now. Thompson rubbed at his brow, internally wincing a little at the deep lines he felt. War really did age you far too fast. "So. Our best guess is the Japanese will try and lure us to strike Rabaul before hitting us while we're unprepared?"
Captain Ramsey, Sara's captain, nodded along, "From what you've told us of Japanese strategy, yes. Makes the most sense for them if they really do like these complicated ambushes."
"That is what Admiral Richardson says," Captain Sherman, of Lexington, raised his own finger up. A thin smile alighted upon his lips when he tilted his head back, just a tad, "Quite handy to have an Admiral like him, hmm? The man knows Japan better than any of us could ever hope for, right, Lex?"
In a break from tradition for him, Admiral Thompson had insisted upon this meeting taking place aboard Lexington instead of her sister. Lady Lex was nowhere near as familiar with him as Sara was, and perhaps more importantly, was a relatively unbiased viewpoint if he suggested something stupid. While he trusted Sara to tell him if he was doing something wrong, he also knew that she would try to do it gently. And would quite possibly miss something since they tended towards operating on the same wavelength, as it were.
Lex...not so much.
"Hmm." Tapping her chin, the old carrier smiled slightly. Her long silver hair fell in front of her face, held back by only a single hairclip and a jauntily angled cap atop her head. "It certainly does make things easier, I suppose. Though I am under the impression that Admiral Thompson knows quite a bit as well. Or so my sister says."
When she said that, and the captains weren't looking, Lex sent the Admiral a sly smirk. And a wink, damn her. Along with a wiggle of her wide hips, beneath her heavily customized officer uniform. It was probably only to avoid attention from the captains that she didn't walk forward and strut her pantyhose-clad legs at him, too.
Lex...Sara and I aren't like that, damnit.
"She's worse than Shira was, I swear..." Thompson muttered under his breath, before sighing again. Time to be serious and all that. "Well, if we don't know where their fleet is, best to act like they're right over the horizon at all times. The crews could use the practice in case of an actual attack, anyway."
Ramsey frowned, "Going to wear the men down doing that, sir. Respectfully, I have to log a protest."
"Noted," Thompson nodded, a frown on his own lips. "And for the record, I do agree with you. But I'd rather have men who know what to do than an ambush where we can't even fight back. I still remember what Pearl looked like."
All of the officers wore a troubled look at that reminder. Would drilling the men and acting as if they were at war, even if they were not yet there, have led to less losses in that attack? It was impossible to say. It was impossible even for Thompson, who now had seen the aftermath of two different attacks on Pearl Harbor. One in archival footage and one in person. He would never get the image of either out of his head, and sometimes when he was unwary, he would dream about the two mixing. Arizona burning while California sat in pieces on the harbor bottom.
For her part, Lex swayed back in forth in place, staring at the men with a contemplative expression. If you asked her, they worried too much. But, what else could you expect out of officers? Worrywarts, the lot of them.
"The men will be fine." She finally declared, placing one hand on her hip and the other in the air. When Sherman sent her a dry look, she giggled and shook her head, "No, really, they'll be fine! I've been with some of these men as long as they've been in the Navy, and that goes double for Sara. We know our crews." Letting her airborne hand fall, Lex placed it on the table and leaned over it.
All three men did an admirable job of not acknowledging how that emphasized her bust, though Lex didn't seem to notice nor care. A Lady she was, but that meant a very different thing when one was a warship. A Lady of War, not a Lady of High Society.
"My crew, Sara's crew, the others..." Trailing off, she sent a grin at Sherman before turning a serious look on Thompson. "The Admiral is right. They could use the practice! Mark my words, these men know what they got into. They won't protest...much. And that aside, we can keep an eye on them. Better than the doctors or officers ever could!"
Sherman chuckled softly with a bemused smile tugging at his lips. He had been Lex's captain for two years by this point. Even before knowing she could do...this...he had always been in tune with her. No one in the navy could maneuver one of these big girls quite like he could.
So he was quite comfortable around Lex in a way that most men weren't, when they first learned the truth of the ships.
"Well said, Lex. We do tend to think too much about how the men will grouch and moan about work," Sherman sent Ramsey a look. One that said 'I agree with you, but...'
Ramsey sighed heavily and shook his head, "I don't disagree, but I do worry. If we run the men too hard on drills, they won't respond fast enough when an actual action happens. Drills are one thing, acting as if the enemy is just over the horizon at every moment..." With a shrug and a scowl, the man finished, "I can't help but feel there is a difference between readiness and paranoia. We are always ready to fend off an attack, but acting as if the enemy is stalking our every move, even when they're nowhere near us?"
With both captains having said their piece, Thompson stepped back in. He sent an appraising look at Lex, first, who winked back again. Then he turned to his own captain. He gave Ramsey a sharp nod of appreciation, too.
"I do appreciate the extra viewpoint, for what it's worth," Thompson smiled at the man, who returned it with a slight inclination of his own head. "I get lost in my own plans too much, as it is. I want a captain who disagrees with me. I'm self-aware enough to know that Sara doesn't."
A round of chuckles went around the room. Well, chuckles from the men and giggles from the ship spirit. Lex smirked at Thompson and raised a challenging eyebrow, "Sara doesn't disagree with anything, does she?"
Electing not to rise to that bait, Thompson just coughed and continued, "I actually agree with you, at least on the subject of not wearing the men down. I want them to be ready for anything and everything, but not too tired to do anything about it." He waved a hand at the two captains. "I won't presume to step on either of your toes, in that regard. Train the men how you feel best. My only request would be a focus on damage control."
His green eyes locked onto Lex's blue. She gave him a slight, so very slight, nod. Good. Message was received loud and clear.
Sara and I made it clear to Lex how she died. She knows to watch for that and I'm sure she's told Captain Sherman as well. And he would have made sure his crew drilled to avoid the issues with fumes and the like. I can only hope that's enough. Thompson sighed, internally, and reflected that Lex had already outlived her counterpart. And because of that... CV-16 will probably stay Cabot. I will miss Lexie, but if that's what it takes to keep Lex alive and Sara from losing her sister...well, I'm sure we'll have another Lexington or Saratoga at some point.
This all assuming that Lex- or Sara, a dark part whispered -didn't get sunk by overwhelming force. That was part of why he was insisting on this.
"I'll organize more scouting parties, then," Ramsey gave a sharp nod.
Sherman did much the same, though he added a significant look at a suddenly-innocent-looking Lex, "I will do the same. Lex? You know which pilots are best for this, I'm sure."
As the captains went about their business, Thompson leaned back with a groan of discomfort. A sigh of frustration. Things had been so much simpler before. Now he was operating without any real foreknowledge and without the proper experience for something like this. Though, he supposed, it wasn't as if anyone else had that experience. Halsey or Spruance or Kinkaid. They were all learning as they went, to some extent. Training and studying could only do so much compared to proper combat experience.
"Admiral, I have a message for you," a harried looking aide rushed into the room, pressing a slip of paper towards Thompson. "From Admiral Halsey and Enterprise, sir."
Thompson raised an eyebrow, "Bull...?"
Halsey tended to do his own thing and didn't really keep in close contact with Thompson. They communicated with each other, sure, but only for formalities. Coordinating efforts with Pearl, such as it was. War didn't leave a lot of time for personal messages as it was. And while Halsey and Thompson were probably friends, they weren't abusing the systems to stay in contact. So an unscheduled message like this?
It was, if nothing else, concerning on its own merits.
"Hmm." Thompson read the message, humming along at the usual formalities. Until he started to get into the meat of it, at which point he felt his eyes widen and his skin pale. Oh. Oh that is not a good sign...
While neither of the captains quite realized what was going on, when Thompson sent a look at Lex, her own blue eyes widened in turn. She didn't mouth what she was thinking, nor say it. Settling instead of a tilt of her head.
One that Thompson returned with a slight nod, before turning to the curious captains, "Ah...Admiral Halsey says that there is no sign of the Japanese carriers near his location. He recommends that we send a couple of our submarines to scout Truk and is doing the same on his end."
"That's all?" Sherman asked, sending a look between Lex and Thompson. A contemplative look overtaking his face.
Not willing to talk about this in public, as it were, the Admiral nodded, "That and a message that he may be replaced soon. Evidently a skin condition is getting to the point he won't be able to keep serving properly."
"Ah." Ramsey nodded, "That makes sense. Bull Halsey won't let anything short of medical leave take him off the front."
It was hard to tell if either captain bought that excuse. But this was one topic, alongside his time travel, that Thompson wouldn't share with people he didn't trust with his life. Maybe not even then, as he hadn't told anyone but a handful of the warships, either. It was something that he hoped would never become necessary. That he hoped his adventure into the past- alongside that of the mysterious Schreiber -hadn't brought forward. It was, after all, why he was an Admiral in the first place.
I hope this isn't what it seems. I truly do.
Apologies. Meant to have this done sooner, but then Discord drama (on our birthday, at that) kinda killed the muse dead. We're here now, though. And things continue moving forward. Remember that this arc is entering the endgame as sparring in the Pacific continues, things are going down in Russia, Italy schemes and Schreiber gets closer to making his move. There'll still be a timeskip here or there, simply because of not wanting to do a day by day thing, but we're closer to the end than away from it. Not going to give a firm chapter count since that could (and probably would) change.
...but probably no more than 20 more. At the high end.
As for the storm, that isn't a Destroyermen reference
We want to get the next chapter up in two weeks, on the high end, maybe sooner. That'll largely depend on how subbing goes, though.
- Location
- In SPAAAAAAAAACE
...Great, it's almost certainly the Abyssals, a good 70 years early. Fun times all around.
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
That's creepy.
That's because you've grown up, Enterprise.
Oh, what could that be.
...Oh no, it is.
But did it leave anything behind?
The problem any time traveler that changes history faces eventually.
Keep telling yourself that, Sir.
Eyes up front, sailor!
Sink... Sink to the depths... Sink alongside me...
- Location
- America
OH FUCK.
OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK.
Things…..things are going to start getting dicey, aren't they?
First this, then the fact that there's a very good chance Hitlers buddies are going to try and pull some occult bullshit.
Chief, the only way this could get MORE Abyssal-y is if you start hearing what sounds like the enraged voices of the dead near a storm like that.
One of the few consistent things about Abyssals between literally all KC media is the fact that storms form around them.
...I'll try and be as optimistic as possible, and suggest that it's just CVN-68 dropping by for a brief patrol...
The Abyss stirs. A "natural" occurrence that E's airwing was lucky enough to see, or the IJN messing with concepts they have no business interacting with? Time will tell. But, I have a feeling things will go sideways sooner rather than later.
- Location
- North Carolina
Is it wrong that I want an omake where something like this occurs, except a B-17 manages to snap a picture of CVN-68 and its shown to Thompson who promptly spits coffee out over seeing it?
Plot twist - it's "future" Sara and Thompson's fleet figuring out how to make a portal to where their Admiral went. Or perhaps all of the shipgirls working together to figure out where three Admirals vanished to. Let us hope they don't figure it out for a few more subjective years so a mass of shipgirls doesn't pop up in WW2 and really derail events. ...How many shipgirls would beeline for Germany upon realizing the situation in the hopes of checking "punch out Hitler" off their wish list?
Or perhaps this is more Terminator, and the Abyssals sent an assassin back in time to deal with a threat to them before it can properly get going in the (now very alternate) future. The reason nothing was seen when the storm winked out was because it was submersible.
- Location
- USS Enterprise CV-6
I admit I was expecting the Abyssal's to show up but I was thinking it'd be late war with the German SS doing some ritual that goes wrong. At that same time though if it does show up now though how much of a threat will it actually be? Because AFAIK pretty much every ship it could get currently is going to be so obsolete that a tug boat with a couple of machine guns would be safe. Which is also why I was expecting a late war showing from it as it would have more ships it could pull from.
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
Actually, I kind of want it to be the Abyssals.
In the Pacific, the Japanese kept saying that Americans would do this, this, or that (when actually, the Japanese did it themselves). Well, have them run into a race of beings that makes any of their worst nightmares look downright TAME, and aren't 'attached' to a giant steel hull that is (relatively) easy to hit. Cue a helvalot of very hard, very harsh, questions and viewing inwards towards their own actions.
Over in the Atlantic, I'd fully expect the Kriegsmarine to haul ass back to port, or in the case of the very few in the know, run to the UK. Although having the various fascists get to see something truly terrifying (cue the Thule Society's remnants looking on in horror as EVERYTHING goes wrong) while getting brutalized, doesn't exactly make me weep too many tears. At least the U-boats, which were Nazi central iirc, are going to get massacred in short order, which is at least something. Downside though, is that Germany is likely going to throw truly epic amounts of resources into developing the V-1/Frtiz Bomb even further, which is going to be a true pain in the ass down the line for all to deal with.
The one thing that might turn this from being a true massacre on a global scale, is that this 'storm' takes place quite literally JUST before the USA's true industrial might starts hitting its real stride. Thus this is going to happen when the USA is going to be at its absolute height of power in the pre-atomic/nuclear era, before the post-War/Truman era rollbacks and budget cuts.
Here's hoping though that Thompson *deeply* stressed to Roosevelt the importance of The Bomb. That and both weeding out a shitton of the spies inflitrating the Manhattan Project, along with making it quite clear that 'smaller is better' & 'precision over AOE'.
Also, might want to talk to the French government in exile down in South America (POP QUIZ TIME! How many people (who aren't French) here know that France is the sole European power to still have direct representation/governance & sovereignty over a continental part of South America? Even to this day.) and see about getting them industrialized. On one hand, more they industrialize to help France on their own, the more the USA can divert back to its own needs. On the other, post-war, having very/extremely friendly relations with a nation who has access to very substantial land based facilities damn near sitting on the equator, will make the space race VASTLY easier.
In the Pacific, the Japanese kept saying that Americans would do this, this, or that (when actually, the Japanese did it themselves). Well, have them run into a race of beings that makes any of their worst nightmares look downright TAME, and aren't 'attached' to a giant steel hull that is (relatively) easy to hit. Cue a helvalot of very hard, very harsh, questions and viewing inwards towards their own actions.
Over in the Atlantic, I'd fully expect the Kriegsmarine to haul ass back to port, or in the case of the very few in the know, run to the UK. Although having the various fascists get to see something truly terrifying (cue the Thule Society's remnants looking on in horror as EVERYTHING goes wrong) while getting brutalized, doesn't exactly make me weep too many tears. At least the U-boats, which were Nazi central iirc, are going to get massacred in short order, which is at least something. Downside though, is that Germany is likely going to throw truly epic amounts of resources into developing the V-1/Frtiz Bomb even further, which is going to be a true pain in the ass down the line for all to deal with.
The one thing that might turn this from being a true massacre on a global scale, is that this 'storm' takes place quite literally JUST before the USA's true industrial might starts hitting its real stride. Thus this is going to happen when the USA is going to be at its absolute height of power in the pre-atomic/nuclear era, before the post-War/Truman era rollbacks and budget cuts.
Here's hoping though that Thompson *deeply* stressed to Roosevelt the importance of The Bomb. That and both weeding out a shitton of the spies inflitrating the Manhattan Project, along with making it quite clear that 'smaller is better' & 'precision over AOE'.
Also, might want to talk to the French government in exile down in South America (POP QUIZ TIME! How many people (who aren't French) here know that France is the sole European power to still have direct representation/governance & sovereignty over a continental part of South America? Even to this day.) and see about getting them industrialized. On one hand, more they industrialize to help France on their own, the more the USA can divert back to its own needs. On the other, post-war, having very/extremely friendly relations with a nation who has access to very substantial land based facilities damn near sitting on the equator, will make the space race VASTLY easier.
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The only way it'd be better is if Thompson is shown the photo because Admiral Nimitz figured it would probably be something in his time-travelling wheelhouse:
"James, what the hell kind of carrier is that?! And the airplanes?!"
"...oh god. It's, uh... kind of complicated, Chester..."
There wouldn't be much change on the yield of the Manhattan Project's results. As it turns out, without significant experimentation to develop lower-yield devices, the easiest, quickest weapons to develop with WW2 technology are all in the 15-20 kiloton range, with the highly inefficient Mark 1 "Little Boy" design at the low end and the slightly better (and easier to quickly produce enough fission fuel for) Mark 3 "Fat Man" design at the high end. (While the single most-used configuration of US nuclear weapon in testing was a Type D pit in a Mark 4 high explosive assembly, which ended up producing a reliable, reproduceable one-kiloton yield that made the math in analysis easier, this wasn't first fired until 1951.)
Nor would you particularly want a smaller device; while the USAAF always talked about "precision bombing" and claimed that the Norden bombsight allowed them to "put a bomb into a pickle barrel from 10,000 feet altitude," that level of accuracy could only be attained under laboratory conditions, with a full vertical wind profile up to bombing altitude, a highly visible target, calm air, and nobody shooting at you. The reason for the use of massed bomber formations to flatten entire neighborhoods (and, in some cases, entire cities) was due to the realities of warfare at the time; while the Norden remained the best, most precise bombsight in the world, in actual combat, you would be lucky to hit the same city block as the building you were targeting. Beyond that, early nuclear weapons were rather aerodynamically challenged, partly to slow their fall (via drag) to give the bomber time to escape, and partly because all bombs were high-drag designs at the time; during Crossroads, the first shot (Able) was an airdrop from a B-29 targeted on the battleship Nevada, which had been painted up in bright orange paint to stick out like a sore thumb and provide a good aimpoint for the bomber crew. Because of a collapsed tail fin, the bomb fell 980 feet short and 1870 feet left of target--over 2100 feet (or 0.4 miles) off-target.
Lower-yield nuclear warheads ("smaller is better" and "precision over AOE") don't really become either valuable or viable until much better delivery accuracy is available; while research into making the warhead require less fission fuel per kiloton yield is an early postwar priority, it's more directed towards being able to produce more weapons of the same yield for stockpile purposes (people forget that, at the time Truman ordered the use of the atomic bomb against Japan, the entire US nuclear stockpile was three weapons: Little Boy, Fat Man, and one additional Mark 3 bomb that was earmarked to be used against Kokura should the Japanese not surrender after the second bomb, with Operation Downfall planned to use all eight of the nuclear weapons that the US was projected to be able to produce in the next nine months). Beyond that, though, there shouldn't be much change in the focus of the Manhattan Project. This was a wartime crash project intended to produce a device that worked in the shortest time possible. A large number of the design improvements tested in the early postwar test series were actually proposed during the Manhattan Project, but were shot down at the time as being too risky or time-consuming without extensive testing that would have delayed the program as a whole.
French Guiana. It's why the European Space Agency's launch site is located in South America (taking advantage of the benefits of equatorial launch sites).
- Location
- USS Enterprise CV-6
The main issue using early A-Bombs against abyssal's is that unless its exploded underwater they're surprisingly ineffective against ships. Sure the ship is going to be mission killed via an airburst do to her crew either being dead or all injured. However unless you're getting a direct hit it's not gonna sink the shop. The reason Baker shot was so deadly was because of the tsunami effect it caused when it exploded underwater. So the most effective way of fighting the abyssal's early would be via nuclear mines until you can get nuclear torpedoes into production. Course the best way is via the shipgirls though I imagine Thompson would want to try avoiding needing to scrap the hull first.
- Location
- North Carolina
I can already see how Halsey would react to finding out about this. Its amusing, I find that Nimitz being shocked that yes, he has a CV named after him to be even funnier.
FailLord
2050 lb bombs?
- Location
- very high up
Even more funny would be Nimitz meeting Nimitz