In truth I seem to remember that Disney proposed making the first three books into a single film! what were they thinking!
Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
- Thread starter fester
- Start date
- Status
Alright so here is a little doc I made. It should have every single ship mentionned in this TL and its status as of now. Feel free to let me know where I made a mistake, and if possible by giving me the threadmark I missed. Love your TL @fester , great work.
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1MFkxiyTEN_92aO9Mr8lc1G3CRiTf6UT_7iVLBUTSIso/edit?usp=sharing
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1MFkxiyTEN_92aO9Mr8lc1G3CRiTf6UT_7iVLBUTSIso/edit?usp=sharing
Remember that the Lord of the Rings movies were initially proposed as two movies which were then going to be compressed into one movie by the studio when they saw the costs. Jackson balked at this and when the project was picked up by New Line they expanded it to three movies, because the economics worked better for three movies (artistic merit be damned). Hollywood only sees the money.
Driftless
Donor
True. There's often a battle of vision vs cost. In the case of the Lord of the Rings, there was a decades long history of high interest in the books and complex stories that would be damn hard to condense into a single 100 minute movie. The story is similar for Harry Potter, just with a shorter, but more recent, lengthy string of literary popularity. Both series also had appealing demographic sets - for the marketing geniuses in the production companies. LOTR heavier in the Boomer generation, but with strong following in succeeding generations and of course, Harry Potter had the flip-side grouping.
To bad with the Hobbit, they tried to scape too little butter over too much bread....
So is this convoy something that was already planned by the Japanese at some point before the British offensive, or a reinforcements convoy as a result of the offensive, or a preplanned convoy that has been augmented?
Given the amount committed, the amount of ships already lost, and the potential for more losses, this may be a one off if the Japanese don't commit forces from outside the region.
Pre-planned convoy. The Japanese quartermaster and Intel units could all read an almanac and figure out supplies would be needed to stop an offensive sooner or later.
Story 1668
Singora, Thailand November 21, 1942
Bayonets were thrust into nooks and crannies of the shell of a ruined tea shop. Three men were already in the back room setting up an observation post. Another two men were running wire for the forward observers. As the damaged building became fully secured, most of the surviving members of an Australian infantry platoon made themselves as comfortable as possible for a few minutes. Tea was quickly brewed up, and men found biscuits and sweets to eat for a moment of peace before they resumed digging in for another counter-attack.
They had managed to split the Japanese line. The South China Sea was only seventy yards to the east. Taking the beach and the tidal range would only be pointless exposure; the men liked their officers as they had learned how not to pointless waste their lives. Dying, yes, the platoon and the company had done enough of that, but always for a purpose that made sense to the men asked to risk their lives. There were no attempts at glory; there were no attempts at rash actions that could lead to headlines, medals and promotions. There were no attempts to prove virility. Instead, they advanced when they had to and where they had to. Whenever possible, the officers made sure the artillery and air support was plentiful, on time and near the target; and when firepower was not available, the men advanced knowing all efforts to keep them alive had been made but occasionally, they had to do things the difficult way.
As night fell and the seventeen men continued to strengthen the outpost in a small fortress, more artillery rumbled. Another brigade was going up the hill with a Buddhist shrine near its peak. If they could seize that stretch of high ground, the artillery would dominate the port. Other men were advancing, hoping that their officers were doing the best to keep them alive unless there was an urgent need for some to die.
Bayonets were thrust into nooks and crannies of the shell of a ruined tea shop. Three men were already in the back room setting up an observation post. Another two men were running wire for the forward observers. As the damaged building became fully secured, most of the surviving members of an Australian infantry platoon made themselves as comfortable as possible for a few minutes. Tea was quickly brewed up, and men found biscuits and sweets to eat for a moment of peace before they resumed digging in for another counter-attack.
They had managed to split the Japanese line. The South China Sea was only seventy yards to the east. Taking the beach and the tidal range would only be pointless exposure; the men liked their officers as they had learned how not to pointless waste their lives. Dying, yes, the platoon and the company had done enough of that, but always for a purpose that made sense to the men asked to risk their lives. There were no attempts at glory; there were no attempts at rash actions that could lead to headlines, medals and promotions. There were no attempts to prove virility. Instead, they advanced when they had to and where they had to. Whenever possible, the officers made sure the artillery and air support was plentiful, on time and near the target; and when firepower was not available, the men advanced knowing all efforts to keep them alive had been made but occasionally, they had to do things the difficult way.
As night fell and the seventeen men continued to strengthen the outpost in a small fortress, more artillery rumbled. Another brigade was going up the hill with a Buddhist shrine near its peak. If they could seize that stretch of high ground, the artillery would dominate the port. Other men were advancing, hoping that their officers were doing the best to keep them alive unless there was an urgent need for some to die.
Last edited:
Story 1669
Kupang, Timor November 22, 1942
The sun beat down on the ships bouncing against the docks. Proper merchant ships were being unloaded by gangs of laborers supported by the cranes along the dock and aboard the ship. The ten fast transports that had been warships were off on the back corner of the port. Aboard USS Richmond, the skipper, three of his senior officers and a quartet of chiefs were in harried conversation. Their ship was riding high. All of her cargo was ashore. Some was destined for the Americal Division as it had been re-committed to the front earlier in the week and critical spare parts for prime movers and range finders was always appreciated. Most of the cargo was stacked along the dock.
And that was the challenge. Unloading the ship and splitting out the cargo had taken six days. Some of that time was spent re-arranging cargo as it had been administratively loaded for maximum efficiency of transport. At least two days were spent unloading cargo manually instead of by the crane that had once supported the seaplane operations. A motor had burned out and the closest spare was several thousand miles away. A Liberator had already been dispatched.
Combat loading the cargo, mainly food, boots, clothes and medicine would cut unloading time down to perhaps three days of all hands on deck, no sleep except for short shifts with a regiment of infantry helping them without the crane. A chief pointed to a burned out coaster across the harbor. A small muscle powered crane was still above the harbor’s water. An hour later, a salvage crew departed in a long boat. That would help, slightly, but the ultimate operation which justified the conversion envisioned at most an eighteen hour window. The motor had to arrive and more holes in the hull would need to be cut to guarantee the possibility of success.
The sun beat down on the ships bouncing against the docks. Proper merchant ships were being unloaded by gangs of laborers supported by the cranes along the dock and aboard the ship. The ten fast transports that had been warships were off on the back corner of the port. Aboard USS Richmond, the skipper, three of his senior officers and a quartet of chiefs were in harried conversation. Their ship was riding high. All of her cargo was ashore. Some was destined for the Americal Division as it had been re-committed to the front earlier in the week and critical spare parts for prime movers and range finders was always appreciated. Most of the cargo was stacked along the dock.
And that was the challenge. Unloading the ship and splitting out the cargo had taken six days. Some of that time was spent re-arranging cargo as it had been administratively loaded for maximum efficiency of transport. At least two days were spent unloading cargo manually instead of by the crane that had once supported the seaplane operations. A motor had burned out and the closest spare was several thousand miles away. A Liberator had already been dispatched.
Combat loading the cargo, mainly food, boots, clothes and medicine would cut unloading time down to perhaps three days of all hands on deck, no sleep except for short shifts with a regiment of infantry helping them without the crane. A chief pointed to a burned out coaster across the harbor. A small muscle powered crane was still above the harbor’s water. An hour later, a salvage crew departed in a long boat. That would help, slightly, but the ultimate operation which justified the conversion envisioned at most an eighteen hour window. The motor had to arrive and more holes in the hull would need to be cut to guarantee the possibility of success.
Story 1670
Don River Front, November 23, 1942
A quartet of P-39s strafed the forward defensive positions. The heavy 37 millimeter shells ripped open the men huddled in a sand-bagged machine gun nest while the longer string of tracers and solid shot shredded a gray painted troop carrier that was obvious and exposed in the white snowy background. The quarter filled fuel tank on that half track went up in a fiery ball, marking the defensive position even as forty T-34s advanced with white smocked infantry men pacing them.
Army level artillery was on call and soon it would begin to pound the German infantry battalion’s defensive position. It would be bypassed and masked as the Shock Army searched for the rear of the Romanian army. The few German manned reserve hardpoints would be dealt with by follow-on forces.
The factory fresh tanks crewed by a mixture of men who had defended Moscow and recruits fresh from basic tank driving school continued to advance. Regimental and then divisional guns soon ranged on the defensive position. Shells blistered the small rise in the ground and then the main guns of the tanks boomed and machine guns chattered as readily of teeth would in the cold air. A few German riflemen shot back, but they were outgunned and most of the veterans knew not to stick their head up into the maelstrom.
The Soviet attack brushed by the position and as the Soviet tanks were preparing to spread out and continue their exploitation into the Romanian rear, a dozen steel monsters emerged from the narrow tree line. Long cannons tracked their targets as they cleared their turrets from the hull down defilades. Heavy, hard capped shells penetrated the snow flurries and reached for the rear and flanks of the Soviet tanks. The first salvo was unchallenged as eight T-34s were hit at eight hundred to one thousand yards away. The second salvo was slightly less successful with six mobility or catastrophic kills. As soon as the third salvo was fired, the Tigers, driven by men who had been in tanks for years, advanced rapidly as the battery of German field guns went into rapid fire, splicing the supporting Red infantry from the surprised tanks.
The counter-attack ended eleven minutes later. One Tiger was destroyed as half a dozen shells crashed into it. Another two would require some repairs that could be done quickly enough if the tanks could be pulled under cover. Crewmen were already setting towing chains. The rest of the force was relocating to better cover where they could refuel and rearm before another Soviet tank brigade found them.
A quartet of P-39s strafed the forward defensive positions. The heavy 37 millimeter shells ripped open the men huddled in a sand-bagged machine gun nest while the longer string of tracers and solid shot shredded a gray painted troop carrier that was obvious and exposed in the white snowy background. The quarter filled fuel tank on that half track went up in a fiery ball, marking the defensive position even as forty T-34s advanced with white smocked infantry men pacing them.
Army level artillery was on call and soon it would begin to pound the German infantry battalion’s defensive position. It would be bypassed and masked as the Shock Army searched for the rear of the Romanian army. The few German manned reserve hardpoints would be dealt with by follow-on forces.
The factory fresh tanks crewed by a mixture of men who had defended Moscow and recruits fresh from basic tank driving school continued to advance. Regimental and then divisional guns soon ranged on the defensive position. Shells blistered the small rise in the ground and then the main guns of the tanks boomed and machine guns chattered as readily of teeth would in the cold air. A few German riflemen shot back, but they were outgunned and most of the veterans knew not to stick their head up into the maelstrom.
The Soviet attack brushed by the position and as the Soviet tanks were preparing to spread out and continue their exploitation into the Romanian rear, a dozen steel monsters emerged from the narrow tree line. Long cannons tracked their targets as they cleared their turrets from the hull down defilades. Heavy, hard capped shells penetrated the snow flurries and reached for the rear and flanks of the Soviet tanks. The first salvo was unchallenged as eight T-34s were hit at eight hundred to one thousand yards away. The second salvo was slightly less successful with six mobility or catastrophic kills. As soon as the third salvo was fired, the Tigers, driven by men who had been in tanks for years, advanced rapidly as the battery of German field guns went into rapid fire, splicing the supporting Red infantry from the surprised tanks.
The counter-attack ended eleven minutes later. One Tiger was destroyed as half a dozen shells crashed into it. Another two would require some repairs that could be done quickly enough if the tanks could be pulled under cover. Crewmen were already setting towing chains. The rest of the force was relocating to better cover where they could refuel and rearm before another Soviet tank brigade found them.
Last edited:
Story 1671
Kokoda, Papua New Guinea November 23, 1942
The Australian militiaman wiped away the sweat from his brow. The heat had become almost bearable at the small jungle outpost and airfield. He never would have believed that months ago when he had first walked over the Owen Stanley Range. It still was not bearable, but he was certain that it would no longer kill him. He looked up as he heard the drone of a slightly out of tune aeroplane engine in the distance. A minute later, a well-used Douglas twin engine transport was seen as it popped over the mountains on the southern edge of the verdant valley before it began its slow turning descent to the hacked out airfield that supported the 157 man garrison at this outpost on the edges of the Empire and Commonwealth.
The Australian militiaman wiped away the sweat from his brow. The heat had become almost bearable at the small jungle outpost and airfield. He never would have believed that months ago when he had first walked over the Owen Stanley Range. It still was not bearable, but he was certain that it would no longer kill him. He looked up as he heard the drone of a slightly out of tune aeroplane engine in the distance. A minute later, a well-used Douglas twin engine transport was seen as it popped over the mountains on the southern edge of the verdant valley before it began its slow turning descent to the hacked out airfield that supported the 157 man garrison at this outpost on the edges of the Empire and Commonwealth.
Even if the Japanese haven't landed on New Guinea in this timeline, it still makes sense to have some outposts and stations along the northern coastal area to act as a tripwire or to attempt to fight off the Japanese if they do attempt something.
We know of course that the Japanese can't and aren't going to do anything, but from the POV of the 1942 people, they can't rule out a Japanese attack.
The biggest advantage here is that instead of the US and Australians having to commit several divisions in New Guinea in OTL, here, I doubt the Australians would need to have more then a reinforced brigade along the northern coast.
I think Tiger units were the graduate school of the Reich's armoured forces - experienced crews only.
A 2006 movie: Kokoda aka Kokoda - 39th Battalion about a small unit in OTL's campaign is worth watching.
Errolwi
Monthly Donor
Even if there are tripwire forces on the north coast, I'd still call Kokoda an 'outpost on the edges of the Empire and Commonwealth' - nice double duty of 'Commonwealth', BTW fester. You can tell it's Australia by the militia guarding it!
- Status