Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
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Story 2673
Behind the Water Line, Netherlands November 24, 1944
The young woman looked up. A dozen RAF Dakotas came over the tree line. Soon dozens of crates were coming to the ground slowly descending beneath large parachutes. As the first boxes hit the ground, the resistance fighters ran to break open the boxes. A few had ammunition and explosives. Most were filled with sacks of flour, cannisters of cooking oil, and bags of sugar. There even a few crates full of chocolate. Food was more valuable than gold right now, and soon the resistance controlled segment of the black market have goods to reward supproters and punish the recalitrant.
Minutes later, the bounty on the field was being loaded onto carts and a pair of trucks for distribution. The young woman was tossed a single chocolate bar as a reward for a job well done. Tomorrow would be a bit easier than today even as the Allied artillery rumbled off in the distance.
The young woman looked up. A dozen RAF Dakotas came over the tree line. Soon dozens of crates were coming to the ground slowly descending beneath large parachutes. As the first boxes hit the ground, the resistance fighters ran to break open the boxes. A few had ammunition and explosives. Most were filled with sacks of flour, cannisters of cooking oil, and bags of sugar. There even a few crates full of chocolate. Food was more valuable than gold right now, and soon the resistance controlled segment of the black market have goods to reward supproters and punish the recalitrant.
Minutes later, the bounty on the field was being loaded onto carts and a pair of trucks for distribution. The young woman was tossed a single chocolate bar as a reward for a job well done. Tomorrow would be a bit easier than today even as the Allied artillery rumbled off in the distance.
The OTL food relief operations conducted to alleviate the starvation the Dutch civilians were facing near the end of the war is worth noting.
en.wikipedia.org
Operations Manna and Chowhound - Wikipedia
Story 2674
Near Palawan, November 25, 1944
The flight of Fireflies lazily circled from east to north and then to west again. Even as the four aircraft completed their second of thirty six scheduled circuits, a dozen Barracudas roared below them heading east. The fighter pilots heard the ongoing chatter on the radio. Beneath them were over one hundred specialized landing ships and dozens of general cargo ships, all escorted, and herded by a plethora of small wooden hull wartime expedients. Slightly further out to sea was a destroyer squadron and the the gun line. Hundreds of landing craft were already in the water as two divisions rehearsed for the last time their next operation.
The flight of Fireflies lazily circled from east to north and then to west again. Even as the four aircraft completed their second of thirty six scheduled circuits, a dozen Barracudas roared below them heading east. The fighter pilots heard the ongoing chatter on the radio. Beneath them were over one hundred specialized landing ships and dozens of general cargo ships, all escorted, and herded by a plethora of small wooden hull wartime expedients. Slightly further out to sea was a destroyer squadron and the the gun line. Hundreds of landing craft were already in the water as two divisions rehearsed for the last time their next operation.
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Driftless
Donor
Where's next? With British aircraft involved, I'm assuming a British landing site following this rehersal. I may be getting different authors TLs tangled here, but Borneo? Or, South China/Hong Kong?
Yes, yes, this is a Fairey Firefly.
I still think upgunned Sherman's....
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Driftless
Donor
In other words, be patient weedhopper. All will be revealed in the fullness of time....
Story 2675
An hour before Dawn, 9 miles west of Kadena , November 26, 1944
The admiral nodded to the skipper. The skipper made a one quarter turn of his head, smiled a predatory smile and issued a highly anticipated order.
"You may fire when ready."
"Aye sir"
The chief gunnery officer of USS West Virginia quickly passed the orders. Four seconds later, the forward two turrets fired. Seconds later, the other seven battleships of the bombardment group began to fire once they saw that the flagship had started the engagement. By the time that the slowest ship had fired, West Virginia's aft batteries flung over four tons of steel at a bunker complex just north of the boundary between the Yellow and Blue beaches. By the time the fifth shell from the old battleship burrowed into the earth eighty yards short of the target, the cruisers and destroyers of the bombardment group were sending their first salvos inland.
Three miles inshore of the battle line, hundreds of landing craft were making their way to shore at a sedate walking pace. Some of the veterans were quiet. Most of the fairly green privates in the new 5th Marine Division were trying to steady their stomachs through either fear or seasicknesses. As the landing craft approached the final mile, the bombardment group ceased fire to allow hundreds of Liberators and Superfortresses to lay down a carpet of high explosives on known and estimated Japanese reserve positions. Once the bombers had cleared the restricted airspace, the battleships shifted fire to targets inland while the destroyers pressed closer to engage Japanese dug-outs and hardpoints that were revealing themselves by their machine gun tracers. One destroyer had come to a complete stop just three football fields from the beach with a foot underneath her keel while her starboard Bofors crews fired several dozen clips at an anti-boat position.
The admiral nodded to the skipper. The skipper made a one quarter turn of his head, smiled a predatory smile and issued a highly anticipated order.
"You may fire when ready."
"Aye sir"
The chief gunnery officer of USS West Virginia quickly passed the orders. Four seconds later, the forward two turrets fired. Seconds later, the other seven battleships of the bombardment group began to fire once they saw that the flagship had started the engagement. By the time that the slowest ship had fired, West Virginia's aft batteries flung over four tons of steel at a bunker complex just north of the boundary between the Yellow and Blue beaches. By the time the fifth shell from the old battleship burrowed into the earth eighty yards short of the target, the cruisers and destroyers of the bombardment group were sending their first salvos inland.
Three miles inshore of the battle line, hundreds of landing craft were making their way to shore at a sedate walking pace. Some of the veterans were quiet. Most of the fairly green privates in the new 5th Marine Division were trying to steady their stomachs through either fear or seasicknesses. As the landing craft approached the final mile, the bombardment group ceased fire to allow hundreds of Liberators and Superfortresses to lay down a carpet of high explosives on known and estimated Japanese reserve positions. Once the bombers had cleared the restricted airspace, the battleships shifted fire to targets inland while the destroyers pressed closer to engage Japanese dug-outs and hardpoints that were revealing themselves by their machine gun tracers. One destroyer had come to a complete stop just three football fields from the beach with a foot underneath her keel while her starboard Bofors crews fired several dozen clips at an anti-boat position.
Cryhavoc101
Donor
I was just about to do the same thing LOL
"All guns sir"
"No I want to make a statement not a manifesto"
Story 2676
Singapore, November 27, 1944
HMS Queen Elizabeth limped into port. A turbine had been finicky for the last two weeks limiting her speed to only fifteen knots with a favorable wind and sea. She had nearly shot her barrels to the end of her usefulness during the invasion of France. Her last duty to the Empire would come soon and then she could be placed in a cove and forgotten if need be. The workers that had spent a week touching up Malaya would soon shift their attentions to the nameship of the class for a few days while the crews loaded stores and bunkers were topped off before a fast run ashore. Three veterans of Jutland would sail forth once more but this time as a mere support force instead of as the pride of the fleet.
HMS Queen Elizabeth limped into port. A turbine had been finicky for the last two weeks limiting her speed to only fifteen knots with a favorable wind and sea. She had nearly shot her barrels to the end of her usefulness during the invasion of France. Her last duty to the Empire would come soon and then she could be placed in a cove and forgotten if need be. The workers that had spent a week touching up Malaya would soon shift their attentions to the nameship of the class for a few days while the crews loaded stores and bunkers were topped off before a fast run ashore. Three veterans of Jutland would sail forth once more but this time as a mere support force instead of as the pride of the fleet.
Story 2677
Purple Beach, Okinawa, November 28, 1944
Patrick looked over the gate of the landing barge. The beach was chaos as engineers were detonating defenses and quartermasters directed labor gangs to move an ever moving chain of supplies and shells to the correct trucks and dumps. Between all of the activity was the detritus of the first day were still on the beach. Temporary morgues were filled with bodies and burned out tanks had provided covered for terrified riflemen. The first landing companies had barely made it to the sea wall. The second and third wave had carved out a beach head that was deep enough to allow the landing of the divisional reserves and artillery to come ashore yesterday without harassing direct fire. However, a trio of Japanese mortars were still lobbing shells into the water a few hundred yards to the right. That was another battalion and someone else's problem. The 7th had pushed ashore deep enough this morning that the stars decided to push ashore one of the two infantry divisions of the second echelon. His platoon was part of the first wave of the AmeriTim division to hit the beach. Most of the men in his Higgins boat had seen combat somewhere. No one else had been in combat since 1942 on Timor but all of them men had been shot at, shelled and huddled in rain filled foxholes at three in the morning waiting for a counter-attack that never came. He had confidence in his men. They believed in him as he never asked them to be stupid with their lives. More than once he had to make the toughest decisions but his men knew that the old man at the head of the platoon was not a reckless gambler looking for glory with their blood.
He held his rifle tight and shifted his feet as the Higgins boat plowed through crashing waves. The boat ran aground and the ramp dropped.
Even as his feet started to move forward, he waved his arm and called for the men he was responsible for to follow him. A few steps down the ramp and he was in ankle deep water. He ran up the beach with a quick glance to make sure the platoon was following him. He wanted them off the waterline before the Japanese could mortar a fixed position. Three minutes later, the first Japanese shells started to explode where the laggards were still unloading. His platoon sergeant nodded to him and held a thumbs up. The platoon had arrived ashore with no losses. The sergeant would keep an eye on the platoon while Patrick jogged to meet with the captain as what had been intended to be a two hour evolution had been done in less time than it took to smoke a fresh cigarette.
Patrick looked over the gate of the landing barge. The beach was chaos as engineers were detonating defenses and quartermasters directed labor gangs to move an ever moving chain of supplies and shells to the correct trucks and dumps. Between all of the activity was the detritus of the first day were still on the beach. Temporary morgues were filled with bodies and burned out tanks had provided covered for terrified riflemen. The first landing companies had barely made it to the sea wall. The second and third wave had carved out a beach head that was deep enough to allow the landing of the divisional reserves and artillery to come ashore yesterday without harassing direct fire. However, a trio of Japanese mortars were still lobbing shells into the water a few hundred yards to the right. That was another battalion and someone else's problem. The 7th had pushed ashore deep enough this morning that the stars decided to push ashore one of the two infantry divisions of the second echelon. His platoon was part of the first wave of the AmeriTim division to hit the beach. Most of the men in his Higgins boat had seen combat somewhere. No one else had been in combat since 1942 on Timor but all of them men had been shot at, shelled and huddled in rain filled foxholes at three in the morning waiting for a counter-attack that never came. He had confidence in his men. They believed in him as he never asked them to be stupid with their lives. More than once he had to make the toughest decisions but his men knew that the old man at the head of the platoon was not a reckless gambler looking for glory with their blood.
He held his rifle tight and shifted his feet as the Higgins boat plowed through crashing waves. The boat ran aground and the ramp dropped.
Even as his feet started to move forward, he waved his arm and called for the men he was responsible for to follow him. A few steps down the ramp and he was in ankle deep water. He ran up the beach with a quick glance to make sure the platoon was following him. He wanted them off the waterline before the Japanese could mortar a fixed position. Three minutes later, the first Japanese shells started to explode where the laggards were still unloading. His platoon sergeant nodded to him and held a thumbs up. The platoon had arrived ashore with no losses. The sergeant would keep an eye on the platoon while Patrick jogged to meet with the captain as what had been intended to be a two hour evolution had been done in less time than it took to smoke a fresh cigarette.
IOTL there was relatively little opposition on the beaches. Of course, with the faster tempo of the US counter offensive here, the defenders have had less time to absorb the lessons of previous battles, some of which in any case never took place (Peleliu, Iwo Jima).
Story 2678
Antwerp, Belgium November 29, 1944
The small tramp steamer's crew let go of their breath after the shore gang secured the hawser to the bight. The journey from London to Antwerp was completed. The danger was over until the return trip. Two ships had been sunk the previous week from uncleared floating mines. The minesweepers of half a dozen nations were busy clearing and rechecking the primary shipping routes every day. Now the ship was under the cover of hundreds of fighters and almost as many anti-aircraft guns. Soon Belgian civilian dock workers were queuing up to begin unloading the palletted cargo before the truck drivers headed to the massive dumps that were keeping the Canadian 1st Army in supply in the middle of the Netherlands.
The small tramp steamer's crew let go of their breath after the shore gang secured the hawser to the bight. The journey from London to Antwerp was completed. The danger was over until the return trip. Two ships had been sunk the previous week from uncleared floating mines. The minesweepers of half a dozen nations were busy clearing and rechecking the primary shipping routes every day. Now the ship was under the cover of hundreds of fighters and almost as many anti-aircraft guns. Soon Belgian civilian dock workers were queuing up to begin unloading the palletted cargo before the truck drivers headed to the massive dumps that were keeping the Canadian 1st Army in supply in the middle of the Netherlands.
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