Unfortunately sometimes air crew and smaller ships are so suddenly overwhelmed by enemy action, technical issues or the weather that they have no chance of informing anyone of their circumstances - they are Lost - Missing in Action. If it is by enemy action you may find out after the war or from PoWs in any case bodies may eventually wash ashore. Submarines may not make their next scheduled call in and all that can be reported is missing - grid square or squares - on or about dd/mm/yyyy
Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
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Heck pretty much every submarine base and sub museum in the US has that list
I'm not saying it was Aliens. but...
(Dive! Dive! Dive! Run silent, run deep and run long as the forum has a long reach....
)Randy
SsgtC
Banned
* Launches nuclear tipped ASROC and turns away whistling*I'm not saying it was Aliens. but...
(Dive! Dive! Dive! Run silent, run deep and run long as the forum has a long reach....
Randy
At the HMS Dolphin Submarine Museum at Gosport (Portsmouth) there is a very long wall full of the names of those killed in submarines or while serving in submarines
HMS Upholders crew was quite remarkable in the number of decorations they possessed between them
Story 2164
August 1, 1943 Singapore
The hatch was closed for the last time. The flag was run down the mast.
USS Nautilus' war was now over.
The frequent runs to Manila Bay had taxed her. The grounding in February had damaged her hull and temporary repairs had been enough to keep the supply lines to the now relieved siege camp open. She needed at least six months in the yards. That time would produce a boat that was too big, too slow and too vulnerable with only slightly less committment of time and materials as it would take to build out a new, modern fleet boat. Instead, she would be the squadron's dock yard queen as the repair crews that were keeping the other V-boats in operational could strip the submarine for spare parts. Her slow deterioriation would keep half a dozen other submarines working well enough for another year or more. Half of her crew including the XO were due to ship back home to man new construction and spread their lessons to new recruits. The other half would stay in the squadron's manpower pool to relieve some long service men and to backfill holes in the ranks caused by enemy action, tropical diseases and unwise decisions during liberty.
The hatch was closed for the last time. The flag was run down the mast.
USS Nautilus' war was now over.
The frequent runs to Manila Bay had taxed her. The grounding in February had damaged her hull and temporary repairs had been enough to keep the supply lines to the now relieved siege camp open. She needed at least six months in the yards. That time would produce a boat that was too big, too slow and too vulnerable with only slightly less committment of time and materials as it would take to build out a new, modern fleet boat. Instead, she would be the squadron's dock yard queen as the repair crews that were keeping the other V-boats in operational could strip the submarine for spare parts. Her slow deterioriation would keep half a dozen other submarines working well enough for another year or more. Half of her crew including the XO were due to ship back home to man new construction and spread their lessons to new recruits. The other half would stay in the squadron's manpower pool to relieve some long service men and to backfill holes in the ranks caused by enemy action, tropical diseases and unwise decisions during liberty.
I take those who made 'unwise decisions during liberty ' are primarily sufferers from an embarrassing "social " disease?
Perhaps. Syphilis is quite treatable at this point (salvorsan was just about the only antibiotic that worked on anything for a couple of decades), but gonorrhea requires penicillin, which is only just becoming available.
It could also involve run ins with pimps and other crime figures, other enthusiastic bar brawls, etc., Etc.
HMS Dasher and most of her crew are still lost but the USS Nautilus with her entire crew survives. One butterfly flaps more than the other.
There wasn't anything in TTL that forced the repair of Dashers' fuel leakage. But the far different Pacific War put the Nautilus to a somewhat less hazardous duty that she was better suited for.
I'm going to leave up my original posting. I was wrong implying that the OTL USS Nautilus was sunk. She survived the war. In my mind I had confused her with the USS Argonaut. Which was sunk near Rabual in January 1943.
There wasn't anything in TTL that forced the repair of Dashers' fuel leakage. But the far different Pacific War put the Nautilus to a somewhat less hazardous duty that she was better suited for.
I'm going to leave up my original posting. I was wrong implying that the OTL USS Nautilus was sunk. She survived the war. In my mind I had confused her with the USS Argonaut. Which was sunk near Rabual in January 1943.
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And I never mentioned the CVE's name... I love cross contaminated timelines
Story 2165
Northern Bataan Penisula, August 2, 1943
The Scout stopped. His hand was balled up in a fist and his eyes were scanning ahead even as he slowly moved his head from left to right and right to left. He heard nothing beyond the normal sounds of a war zone at 4:30 in the morning.
A few dozen yards behind him, Sergeant Donahue stopped as well. The platoon leader nodded and that was enough of a silent confirmation of his intent. The first and second squad were to take up positions to the right of the scout. The third squad and Sergeant Donahue as the platoon's old man, would be on the right. A few minutes later, every man was on their belly. The machine gunners and BAR men had their weapons ready and scanning the edges of their world that ended in only a hundred yards. A dozen men were chewing tobacco. A few more had popped gum into their mouths. They could barely move, but the act of placing comfort into their mouth calmed more than a few men. Some of the chewers were veterans of the fighting on Timor and they sought a moment of pleasure as they knew that the future was unknowable as to when they could indulge themselves in the smallest act for themselves. Most of the chewers were green men who had been training with the division since the New Year and had been called to the colors shortly after Pearl Harbor. Chewing calmed their nerves. They chewed silently as they knew that if they made noise, they would not have to worry about the Japanese killing them as the platoon sergeant would do that job first.
Up and down the line other companies of the Massachusetts and North Dakota National Guard were moving into position. Each company had half a dozen Scouts attached. These men were skinny, tired, and amazingly skilled at staying alive. The veterans of Timor had spent the past several days talking as much as they could. The information cost them cigarettes and chocolate, but the avoided blood was cheaply bought. Two miles to the northwest a firefight was breaking out as a company sized patrol from the 33rd Infantry Regiment initiated an ambush on a patrolling Japanese platoon. The veteran company that had learned how to conserve ammunition and fight without fire support abandoned those lessons as the ammunition dumps were no longer threadbare. The dumps were not full yet, but every man on that patrol left friendly lines with the amount of ammunition that they wanted to carry issued to them for the first time in over a year. And now suppressive fire was being liberally applied by the light machine gunners and BAR men even as a section of light mortars chucked shells over the atackers' heads every five or six seconds.
Sergeant Donahue waited. He was good at waiting. It beat being shot at. His ear listened to the fighting to the northeast. The artillery attached to one of the frontline divisions that had held the line since the siege began started to fire. The seventy five millimeter shells were no danger to the sergeant or his men, so he resumed ignoring them. His fingers gripped his rifle as he slowly made his way down the line. He put his hand on the shoulder of a private and stayed with him for a minute or two, eyes silently communicating their togetherness and the old man's trust in the teenager's skill. He moved on to do the same a few yards further away. The young second lieutenant was replicating the actions of his platoon sergeant with another squad as the Guardsmen waited for their first action in this campaign.
They waited for ninety minutes. And then every gun in the AmeriTim division plus additional two battalions of 155 mm guns began a bombardment. The few heavy guns of the I Corps joined in moments later. The sergeant looked down at his watch. The initial bombardment was only scheduled to last for three hundred seconds. The platoon would start moving towards taking Subic Bay in two hundred and sixty two more seconds. He breathed in deeply and clasped the shoulder of the squad leader who was entering combat for the first time in two hundred and fifty eight seconds. All would resolve itself soon enough.
The Scout stopped. His hand was balled up in a fist and his eyes were scanning ahead even as he slowly moved his head from left to right and right to left. He heard nothing beyond the normal sounds of a war zone at 4:30 in the morning.
A few dozen yards behind him, Sergeant Donahue stopped as well. The platoon leader nodded and that was enough of a silent confirmation of his intent. The first and second squad were to take up positions to the right of the scout. The third squad and Sergeant Donahue as the platoon's old man, would be on the right. A few minutes later, every man was on their belly. The machine gunners and BAR men had their weapons ready and scanning the edges of their world that ended in only a hundred yards. A dozen men were chewing tobacco. A few more had popped gum into their mouths. They could barely move, but the act of placing comfort into their mouth calmed more than a few men. Some of the chewers were veterans of the fighting on Timor and they sought a moment of pleasure as they knew that the future was unknowable as to when they could indulge themselves in the smallest act for themselves. Most of the chewers were green men who had been training with the division since the New Year and had been called to the colors shortly after Pearl Harbor. Chewing calmed their nerves. They chewed silently as they knew that if they made noise, they would not have to worry about the Japanese killing them as the platoon sergeant would do that job first.
Up and down the line other companies of the Massachusetts and North Dakota National Guard were moving into position. Each company had half a dozen Scouts attached. These men were skinny, tired, and amazingly skilled at staying alive. The veterans of Timor had spent the past several days talking as much as they could. The information cost them cigarettes and chocolate, but the avoided blood was cheaply bought. Two miles to the northwest a firefight was breaking out as a company sized patrol from the 33rd Infantry Regiment initiated an ambush on a patrolling Japanese platoon. The veteran company that had learned how to conserve ammunition and fight without fire support abandoned those lessons as the ammunition dumps were no longer threadbare. The dumps were not full yet, but every man on that patrol left friendly lines with the amount of ammunition that they wanted to carry issued to them for the first time in over a year. And now suppressive fire was being liberally applied by the light machine gunners and BAR men even as a section of light mortars chucked shells over the atackers' heads every five or six seconds.
Sergeant Donahue waited. He was good at waiting. It beat being shot at. His ear listened to the fighting to the northeast. The artillery attached to one of the frontline divisions that had held the line since the siege began started to fire. The seventy five millimeter shells were no danger to the sergeant or his men, so he resumed ignoring them. His fingers gripped his rifle as he slowly made his way down the line. He put his hand on the shoulder of a private and stayed with him for a minute or two, eyes silently communicating their togetherness and the old man's trust in the teenager's skill. He moved on to do the same a few yards further away. The young second lieutenant was replicating the actions of his platoon sergeant with another squad as the Guardsmen waited for their first action in this campaign.
They waited for ninety minutes. And then every gun in the AmeriTim division plus additional two battalions of 155 mm guns began a bombardment. The few heavy guns of the I Corps joined in moments later. The sergeant looked down at his watch. The initial bombardment was only scheduled to last for three hundred seconds. The platoon would start moving towards taking Subic Bay in two hundred and sixty two more seconds. He breathed in deeply and clasped the shoulder of the squad leader who was entering combat for the first time in two hundred and fifty eight seconds. All would resolve itself soon enough.
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Story 2166
The Russian Steppes, August 3, 1943
A dozen ground attack aircraft re-assembled. The road was now littered with dying Germans and burning trucks. Overhead a regiment of American built Aircobras patrolled looking for a fight that they had yet to find. Further to the north, the Luftwaffe had been out in force contesting the air as a trio of mechanized corps supporting an infantry army advanced into the vulnerable flank of the 9th Army. That army had been hammered over the summer's fighting. Its strength had been dulled during the battles near Rzhev while the counter-attacks destroyed one corp completely and gutted another. Three days ago, another attack, en echelon, had kicked off targeting two battered divisions holding the center of the line. They had been pushed back fourteen miles already and only fanatical resistance by encircled companies and the impromptu counter-attacks of expedient battle groups had kept the situation from going from serious to grave. The army had no more reserves left, the army group reserves had to be committed to the north to stabilize the situation.
Tomorrow another 140,000 men and 400 tanks would advance to hit the Germans in the south.
A dozen ground attack aircraft re-assembled. The road was now littered with dying Germans and burning trucks. Overhead a regiment of American built Aircobras patrolled looking for a fight that they had yet to find. Further to the north, the Luftwaffe had been out in force contesting the air as a trio of mechanized corps supporting an infantry army advanced into the vulnerable flank of the 9th Army. That army had been hammered over the summer's fighting. Its strength had been dulled during the battles near Rzhev while the counter-attacks destroyed one corp completely and gutted another. Three days ago, another attack, en echelon, had kicked off targeting two battered divisions holding the center of the line. They had been pushed back fourteen miles already and only fanatical resistance by encircled companies and the impromptu counter-attacks of expedient battle groups had kept the situation from going from serious to grave. The army had no more reserves left, the army group reserves had to be committed to the north to stabilize the situation.
Tomorrow another 140,000 men and 400 tanks would advance to hit the Germans in the south.
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