Tales From The Temp Folder

[Orca] Six Stukas

(11/30/23)
Yes, the date is correct. I held off uploading for a day on purpose.
I think this might be the end of updates for Orca, at least for the moment. I wanted to get examples of how a destroyer would engage surface and air targets as a resource for... someone. However, I couldn't find too much period information as to how the contacts were treated and relayed to the guns. To that end, I sort of mashed together what I could find, along with a lot of surface warfare doctrine against ships and submarines that may not be the most accurate. So if a SWO (or other appropriately experienced person) or a historian would mind shining some light on this, that would be greatly appreciated.
To that end.

Again, this is a continuation off of 0830, with a small time gap. Still Forenoon Watch with the Mainmast crew.
At least we get to see Baker again this time. Marshall, not the sub.

I have stated this before, the mundane is never exciting and hardly remembered, but I'll be dammed if we didn't enjoy those q- moments of less suffering than usual. There, I said it again, that cursed word. I guess it's fitting, because I was startled awake from leaning on the radio by another contact report.
"Conn, Combat. Radar has new areal contact, bearing one-nine-five, range eleven miles."
I set my coffee down so fast, a splash landed on the charts, dashing for the ICS console.
"Go Ben."
"Aircraft on Radar at one-five-nine, sir, heading straight for us, range eleven miles."
"Shit." Baker must have radioed our position. We're about to have bombers on top us. "Mr. Rackham!" I yelled.
*General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands man your battle stations. Set condition one throughout the ship.* "Another already?" Mr. Steele remarked as he made his way to his station.
"Conn, Combat. Areal contact, bearing steady at one-nine-five, range nine miles."
I sighed. "All engines ahead dead slow." "Engines ahead dead slow, aye." Mr. Gold rung the E.O.T. "Mr. Kent, bring us to the center of the convoy." "Aye Sir!"
"Conn, Combat. Areal contact, bearing steady at one-nine-five, range seven miles."
I grabbed the radiotelephone. "Orca to Commconvoy. We have aircraft contacts bearing one five nine, range seven miles. We are maneuvering to the center of the convoy."
"Commconvoy, Orca, aye."
"Report all bearings as relative." "All stations, Bridge. Report all bearings as relative."
"Weapons, load anti-aircraft, prepare to engage areal targets." Mr. Steele rang out.
"Conn, Combat. Areal contact, bearing starboard nine-one, range five miles."
"Helmsman, standby for rapid maneuvers." "Aye aye Sir."
Stinky positioned himself at the hatch to relay my orders. I braved the cold out on the wings to try and spot these damn aircraft.

***

It still surprises me how quickly things can go from an aircraft alert to General Quarters. Me and my team have pretty much agreed to treat such alerts as General Quarters, they so often follow each other.
I was below deck, in the mess, trying to finish the mashed taters I had to abandon when we went after that U-boat, only to get maybe ten bites in before the klaxons sounded again. The mess hall erupted into chaos as men scrambled out to their stations. Thankfully, Mount 42 was stationed on its own little outcrop where the torpedo launcher used to be. While that meant we didn't have to fight against other sailors running up ladders more so than those running along the icy deck, we were quite literally at the center of the ship amidships, as open as you could be on the deck, where broadside guns would be aimed against Lemoore first.
But now was not the time to trifle over such things. I beat everyone else to the ladder by four seconds, scrambling up, leaping into the layer's seat, and bringing the gun around to bear port bow. The whine of the hydraulics as we traversed. The rest of my gun crew,0 crowding around, taking their positions, and performing their readiness checks.
From what I heard, the aircraft were approaching off our starboard beam, so unless Orca turned, we wouldn't be seeing much action. Nonetheless, I still had my guns trained, watching the skies; Theo elevating the guns to sixty degrees to meet the attacking bombers, as Chase and David brushed off ice and applying last minute CLP to ensure everything was good to go. Once I felt two taps on my helmet, I quickly spoke into my headset.
"Mount 42, manned and ready."
"Target aircraft sighted bearing one-nine-five, position angle two-five."
And now began the waiting game.
In the meantime, me and the rest of the gun crews of 41 and 42 fished our gloves out of our jacket pockets. We knew we had a couple minutes before the aircraft arrived, any hypothermia would set in sooner than that. Already, our breaths were wafting little clouds of steam around our mount.
"How we looking Eli?" I shouted over my shoulder.
"The glasses are all fogged up! Dammit" I heard a clang from our gun director's station. "I couldn't help you even if I wanted to! It's not like you'll need it anyway!"
I laughed. "Switching to Local!" I flicked the switch to Local High.
My crew hooted and hollered. They knew it was the best gunner in the Navy's turn to sling lead.
"All mounts, local control. Shift to indicating."
"Alright." I re-felt my grip on the cranks, already threatening to weld against my gloves.
"Let's give them hell, Baker!" Theo cried.
"Whoo! Let's light some fireworks!" Chase exclaimed behind me.
I looked over my shoulder to starboard, where those planes would be coming from. Already, I could hear the low rumble of engines, but they were still obscured in the whiteout. I could already hear the faint whining of Jerrico sirens.
"Stukas!" I cried out! We might get a chance to take them on after all, with their steep dives and steeper pull-ups. They would have to fly over us, and their straight paths made them as predictable as ducks.
"Let's do it!" *All mounts, fire at will!*
I watched and listened as Mounts 41 and 43 lit up.  The great 5" mounts firing into the sky with continuous pointed fire, shells bursting into small clouds of flack running alongside the planes, as the six bombers turned right.
"THEY'RE COMING ACROSS OUR BOW!" I quickly trained the mount fully forward. "THEO!" "READY!"
I watched with bated breath as the planes banked around towards us, drifting across towards the starboard bow.
Turrets one, two, and Mount 41 continued to blaze away; but 43 fell silent as the planes fell out of their traverse range.
"GET READY!" I shouted, focusing through the spider sight.
Theo kept fiddling the elevation, trying to guess where the planes will appear against the conning tower. I kept it as close as comfortably possible. I've blown off their caps before if men stood on the bridge wings, but I knew the officers would forgive me for saving their lives.
But then the black silhouette of a wing appeared, drifting into the shape of a full plane bearing down on us.
"NOW!" "NOW!"
DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF
I laid it into them as they started their dive.
"HERE THEY COME!" I watched the tracers burn towards their targets.
One of my tracers hit an engine, the plane erupted into flames, a wing ripping off and the entire craft corkscrewing into a flat spin . The remaining plunged straight for us and the convoy, sirens wailing.
"BRACE!" I yelled at the last minute, sirens screaming overhead. I saw the planes loose their bombs, whistles streaking down towards us.
Pillars of water erupting around us, deafening explosions carried far and wide. But we did not falter.
Without hesitation, I swung the gun back around to port quarter against the fleeing aircraft and opening fire.
DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF, DOOF-DOOF
We chased the planes with flack and tracers as they desperately climbed for the clouds. And just as they were about to escape, one shot from our 5" guns nailed one of them, shredding it instantly in a gigantic ball of fire. The explosion powerful enough to be faintly heard over the firefight.
*Cease fire. Cease fire!* Archer promptly tugged on my string.
I immediately let off the firing push, our twin 40s fell silent. But that silence was quickly broken by the erupting roars of cheers by the gun crews. Already, the loaders were patting each other on the backs.
I looked over to meet Mr. Wright of Mount 41, nodding at me with a smug grin and squint. What else could I do but return it, with a little bird to boot.
*All hands, secure from General Quarters.*
We had chased the planes away, flapping and limping home.
And with that, I slowly traversed my gun back across the port beam, locking and securing my station. I patted my men on the backs as they turned to go about their duties, watching over Archer and Brown as they went about unloading the guns.
"Mighty fine shooting, Mr. Baker."
I turned to meet the man. "Thank you, Mr Wright. I appreciate you leaving them for me."
He chuckled. "How many craft apart are we now?"
"After this one, you're only up by one now."
"Hmm." The man grumbled. "At least I still haven't gotten called in by the Captain."
"Mr. Baker?" A seaman ran up to us. "Captain calling for a Marshall Baker!"
I lost all the wind in my sails, as the ice and cold managed to make it through my layers.
Wright sighed. "I'd say nice knowing you, but you've gotten out of these before."
I gulped. He was right, but every time it wasn't pretty. I'm not sure how proud I am to be on a first name basis with the Captain as a lowly Petty Officer.
Oh well. Guess I'm going to meet my fate.

***

"Fire control reports 5" and 40mm mounts opened fire on targets. Six hundred rounds fired. Two hits observed, sir."
"Very well. Mr. Steele, make sure our boys are trying to conserve ammunition wherever possible." We're gonna need it.
"Aye aye sir." Mr. Steele said before working his way out of the bridge.
I sighed, taking off my hat, feeling the scorched black fabric along the left side. It was one of those moments where I regret having Mount 42 positioned where it is, right behind the Bridge. And especially with those planes attacking from our starboard bow, we were quite literally in the line of fire.
"Report to the Commanding Officer." I heard Mr. Rackham say.
I turned around to see a half-frozen-over familiar face.
I sighed. "Mr. Baker."
"Sir!" Baker said in response.
I sighed again. "I know you and Mount 42 are the best gun crew on this ship." I looked over to see Stinky inspecting his cap similarly to mine. "But both me and Mr. Stinson were on the port side bridge wing this time when you opened fire, Mr. Baker."
The only thing that changed about him was his mouth. He gulped, but everything else about him remained stoic and disciplined.
"If you remember our gentleman's agreement, every time you throw off our caps, you must have shot down a plane."
"Yes sir!"
"So did you shoot down a plane, Petty Officer?" I met his distant gaze.
"Yes sir!" Baker said with a smile. "This sailor shot down a Stuka in local control on Mount 42, sir!"
The entire bridge crew laughed. I could tell Stinky was still annoyed, but quite amused.
What else could I do but smile and shake my head. "At the end of this war, I'll be suing your ass for your salary for destroying my hearing, Mr. Baker."
Now all discipline broke, as Mr. Baker barked a laugh. "Sir, I believe your life has already reimbursed you."
Now everyone laughed again, I cracked a smile.
"Good work. Now get out of here."
"Sir, yes sir." Mr. Baker disappeared down the stairs.
"All ahead standard." "All ahead standard, aye sir." "Take us back around to the front of the convoy." "Aye sir."
At least I could rely on my air defense.