Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
- Thread starter fester
- Start date
- Status
If SU doesn't invade Manchuria would the ROC not win? With a Surviving ROC would a proper investigation and prosecution of the IJAs actions in China be likely to overwhelm any post-war histories?
I suspect he was some kind of collaborator. Or possibly a Gestapo agent posing as a Dutchman.
Either way this is a better planet with him not walking around on it. Props to those two young ladies for the courage and smarts to take care of problems like this one.
Story 2368
Batan, Philippines December 26, 1943
"Landing parties to your boats"
The small assault forces aboard half a dozen transports began to waddle out of the interior of the ships. Patrick counted the men in his platoon. Everyone was accounted for. They were all veterans by now. Most were silent. A few were joking. The machine gunner stumbled and almost face planted but his assistant gunner grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up.
Half an hour later, dozens of Higgins boats were in the water. Three gunboats were close to shore and firing a short prep bombardment. Another half dozen support landing craft with heavy machine guns, mortars and rocket launchers followed the infantry behind. As Patrick looked over the landing ramp, he saw that he was 200 yards out from the small beach. So far, there was a trio of Japanese machine guns that had just started to fire at the poor bastards in the next company over. A pair of knee mortars were shooting long. Before their gunners could re-adjust their aim, the two rocket launcher carrying assault craft sent their salvoes skyward.
The boat ran aground. The ramp went down. He checked his rifle and as the ramp hit the beach, he started to run forward. Two files of men followed him. Half of the boat had emptied before the Japanese riflemen began to fire in his general direction. The third to last man off the landing craft was hit by a rifle round in the hip. The last two men dragged him forward. One began to fire in the general direction of the Japanese defenders while the other started a tourniquet and applied pressure on the wound while screaming for a medic. The platoon leader looked to his right. The rest of the platoon was ashore and in good shape. Already 1st Squad had a base of fire and the riflemen were advancing. He yelled for the 2nd Squad to head right and attack a copse of trees that should provide an overwatch and enfilade. Even as those men started to move in a crouching run, the landing barge began to back away. The .30 caliber machine guns sent heavy slugs at the Japanese trench line and then the few motor gun boats inched closer to shore and began to pump 37 and 40 millimeter rounds at targets of opportunity.
"Landing parties to your boats"
The small assault forces aboard half a dozen transports began to waddle out of the interior of the ships. Patrick counted the men in his platoon. Everyone was accounted for. They were all veterans by now. Most were silent. A few were joking. The machine gunner stumbled and almost face planted but his assistant gunner grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up.
Half an hour later, dozens of Higgins boats were in the water. Three gunboats were close to shore and firing a short prep bombardment. Another half dozen support landing craft with heavy machine guns, mortars and rocket launchers followed the infantry behind. As Patrick looked over the landing ramp, he saw that he was 200 yards out from the small beach. So far, there was a trio of Japanese machine guns that had just started to fire at the poor bastards in the next company over. A pair of knee mortars were shooting long. Before their gunners could re-adjust their aim, the two rocket launcher carrying assault craft sent their salvoes skyward.
The boat ran aground. The ramp went down. He checked his rifle and as the ramp hit the beach, he started to run forward. Two files of men followed him. Half of the boat had emptied before the Japanese riflemen began to fire in his general direction. The third to last man off the landing craft was hit by a rifle round in the hip. The last two men dragged him forward. One began to fire in the general direction of the Japanese defenders while the other started a tourniquet and applied pressure on the wound while screaming for a medic. The platoon leader looked to his right. The rest of the platoon was ashore and in good shape. Already 1st Squad had a base of fire and the riflemen were advancing. He yelled for the 2nd Squad to head right and attack a copse of trees that should provide an overwatch and enfilade. Even as those men started to move in a crouching run, the landing barge began to back away. The .30 caliber machine guns sent heavy slugs at the Japanese trench line and then the few motor gun boats inched closer to shore and began to pump 37 and 40 millimeter rounds at targets of opportunity.
Story 2370
East of Sarajevo, December 28, 1943
The gunners moved shells from storage pits to locations next to the half dozen mountain guns. Each of the gunners had served in the defeated Royal Yugoslavian Army. The guns that they were now serving had been delivered by American built and Canadian flown Dakotas over the past month. The light weight mountain howitzers were good enough for the terrain and the partisans, but grossly inadequate for true force on force battles. The partisans waited. A single gun fired. The observer could see that the shell was almost on target, short and to the right by a small amount. An adjustment was called and the guns in the battery began to fire.
Three minutes later, the prepatory bombardment ceased. The German platoon supporting the Croat company that had patrolled the region was moving to the parapets of the firebase. They were too late as over four hundred partisans with weapons that to them were quite heavy, had managed to sneak close enough to launch an assault. Heavy machine guns and PIAT teams had already started to fire. One of the three machine guns that covered the most likely avenue of advance had been suppressed when a PIAT exploded within the sandbag circle. Rifle shots started to ring out. The assault teams responded with STEN fire and then avalanches of grenades.
An hour after the attack had started, half a dozen RAF Typhoons flown by Yugoslavian exiles rolled into the valley to strafe and rocket a road that connected the the base to the German regiment's headquarters where a counter-attack was being assembled. The six fighters made a dozen combined firing passes and then circled outside the range of light flak to remind the Germans of the need to stay under cover. Even as the fighters waited for targets to expose themselves, the partisan artillery battery shifted their fire to the road junction. No shells maimed a man, but movement had stopped on that road.
The gunners moved shells from storage pits to locations next to the half dozen mountain guns. Each of the gunners had served in the defeated Royal Yugoslavian Army. The guns that they were now serving had been delivered by American built and Canadian flown Dakotas over the past month. The light weight mountain howitzers were good enough for the terrain and the partisans, but grossly inadequate for true force on force battles. The partisans waited. A single gun fired. The observer could see that the shell was almost on target, short and to the right by a small amount. An adjustment was called and the guns in the battery began to fire.
Three minutes later, the prepatory bombardment ceased. The German platoon supporting the Croat company that had patrolled the region was moving to the parapets of the firebase. They were too late as over four hundred partisans with weapons that to them were quite heavy, had managed to sneak close enough to launch an assault. Heavy machine guns and PIAT teams had already started to fire. One of the three machine guns that covered the most likely avenue of advance had been suppressed when a PIAT exploded within the sandbag circle. Rifle shots started to ring out. The assault teams responded with STEN fire and then avalanches of grenades.
An hour after the attack had started, half a dozen RAF Typhoons flown by Yugoslavian exiles rolled into the valley to strafe and rocket a road that connected the the base to the German regiment's headquarters where a counter-attack was being assembled. The six fighters made a dozen combined firing passes and then circled outside the range of light flak to remind the Germans of the need to stay under cover. Even as the fighters waited for targets to expose themselves, the partisan artillery battery shifted their fire to the road junction. No shells maimed a man, but movement had stopped on that road.
Story 2371
Corpus Christi, December 29, 1943
Pain. That was all he could feel. He could not see. He could not hear. He tried to send a signal to his toes. He tried to send a signal to his fingers. His toes did not respond. His index finger tapped his thumb. That contact led to a shooting jab of pain down his right arm.
Someone came into the room. He felt the weight of the shoes hit the floor and vibrate. Each little ripple sent needles of pain into his back. He wished for stillness.
"Robert, this is Dr. MacAllen, you're in the base hospital after your Corsair crashed this morning. We're treating you for some serious injuries and burns over a third of your body. We'll be bringing you in for another surgery soon." The twenty one year old who was lying in bed wanted to cry. He wanted to scream in something other than pain. He could do nothing as the doctor droned on.
A few feet away, Josh Jaroshek listened. The flight this morning had been going fine. They were doing 4v8 maneuvers. The young lieutenant had been on his wing and flying hard and smart. And then suddenly, the Corsair broke formation. Fire came out of the engine and the beast went into a flat spin during an 11,000 foot drop. A parachute popped 2,000 feet over the East Texas ground and the barely moving pilot landed in a clump shortly after the Vought corkscrewed into a copse of oak trees.
The older man stayed in the hospital room with his wingman until the orderlies wheeled him to the operating theatre. He finished his coffee, straightened his hat, and hopped on the base bus to head home where he would hug his daughter, kiss his son and hold his wife before he had to write a letter that he always hated writing.
Pain. That was all he could feel. He could not see. He could not hear. He tried to send a signal to his toes. He tried to send a signal to his fingers. His toes did not respond. His index finger tapped his thumb. That contact led to a shooting jab of pain down his right arm.
Someone came into the room. He felt the weight of the shoes hit the floor and vibrate. Each little ripple sent needles of pain into his back. He wished for stillness.
"Robert, this is Dr. MacAllen, you're in the base hospital after your Corsair crashed this morning. We're treating you for some serious injuries and burns over a third of your body. We'll be bringing you in for another surgery soon." The twenty one year old who was lying in bed wanted to cry. He wanted to scream in something other than pain. He could do nothing as the doctor droned on.
A few feet away, Josh Jaroshek listened. The flight this morning had been going fine. They were doing 4v8 maneuvers. The young lieutenant had been on his wing and flying hard and smart. And then suddenly, the Corsair broke formation. Fire came out of the engine and the beast went into a flat spin during an 11,000 foot drop. A parachute popped 2,000 feet over the East Texas ground and the barely moving pilot landed in a clump shortly after the Vought corkscrewed into a copse of oak trees.
The older man stayed in the hospital room with his wingman until the orderlies wheeled him to the operating theatre. He finished his coffee, straightened his hat, and hopped on the base bus to head home where he would hug his daughter, kiss his son and hold his wife before he had to write a letter that he always hated writing.
Why do you think it could be Bob Barker? Because of the name Robert? Did he crash during his training in OTL?
RamscoopRaider
Donor
Corsairs from Brewster Aeronautical Corporation were limited in speed and prohibited from acrobatics because of shit build quality, could be one of those stinkers
Not that I know of, but he flew Corsairs stateside and was in one of the squadrons scheduled to deploy in September or October of 45. He was joined the USNR in 43 and might have just transitioned to them.
Robert Barker was a 20 year-old Navy pilot at Corpus Christi in 1943, so it seems pretty likely ... though he should be an ensign, not a lieutenant.
Shadow box
Navy.Togetherweserved.com - Shadow Box Profile of LTJG Robert William Barker
navy.togetherweserved.com
Jeez, how many of their managers got fired/prosecuted for undermining the war effort through incompetence?
Fester, you're the next contestant on Knowledge is RIGHTRobert Barker was a 20 year-old Navy pilot at Corpus Christi in 1943, so it seems pretty likely ... though he should be an ensign, not a lieutenant.
Shadow box
Navy.Togetherweserved.com - Shadow Box Profile of LTJG Robert William Barker
Holy shit guys, I chose Robert as a generic as hell US white male name to show that even in training, people are bleeding and dying.
I had no idea that Bob Barker was a USN Corsair pilot.
- Status