(Story) U-104

[RustySubmarine]

Hope you make it back safely and the badly burned crew member lives to tell his story.

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 29th January 1941, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, just off the French coast.

The sea got really harsh today, waves are toying with our little boat like it doesn’t weight a thousand tons. Does it matter? No! The watchboys can just about see the coast from here, but we have to wait for an escort boat to guide us around a newly laid minefield. According to the boys up the tower, there’s no snow that they can see. Does that matter? No! We’re finally coming back to experience solid land after a month in the Atlantic.

The crew suppressed their eagerness for now, because the one that really needs to get back to the dock is the wounded Sharkfin’s lad. Hopefully they can fix him in the Lorient hospital. Hopefully they’ll take their time fixing the Lucky Halibut, none of us wants to go back to action any time soon.

Land. Alcohol. Women. Shower, bed. I can almost smell these things from here.

[MantiBrutalis]

~~~Not part of the story~~~

Coming soon:

Patrol 5 of the U-104 "Lucky Halibut", 2nd Flotilla based in Lorient.



What to expect: (Nothing set in stone, things may change)

Changes to game settings:
My last save is from 26th March 2013. My game changed in a few ways, the biggest change being the addition of SH3 Commander. I remember tweaking some config files and adding some cargo types to SH3 Commander, but it is a long time, I can't remember everything and the config changes were rather small. So I will not look up and post what changed. Deal with it.

Changes to realism:
I learned quite a bit of manual targetting, which means I will get close to 100% Realism. I will not use No Map Updates, usually when I try this, I ram ships when exiting my own port. Also, I will probably leave the Event Camera on, I just love it too much and it can help me polishing my manual targetting skills. Before, I named the Event Camera the "External Camera". Sorry for confusing you, the "Free Roam OP God Camera" was never on, I meant the camera which follows your eels around and stuff. Event Camera will probably stay. Deal with it.

Changes to crew:
To keep things "real", I will transfer out many seasoned sailors to training, their experience is needed to help greenhorns survive their first patrols. Luckily enough, the men I picked to tell this story aren't that experienced yet, and most (if not all) of the men you came to know will stay a little longer.




What may or may not come:

Experimentation in storytelling:
I have quite a few ideas on how to spice things up with telling the story from different points of view, but I will not spoil you just yet. Work in progress. I will not (at least now) picture lives of sailors while in port, I feel my knowledge of the topic is inadequate for the job.

More depth:
I spent some time studying the life and functioning of a U-boat, so I may add some more precise stuff as I learn more. I will not change (at least for now) the historical mistakes already written in the story so far.

Editing:
There has been some editing going on for some time now, and I will continue to correct misspells and spacing problems. I will not change any part of the story, I will just repair the damage my poor English has already done. I may or may not sit down with a friend to go through the entire story to check the grammar. Probably not. Who likes having their mistakes pointed out? Not me. Deal with it.

Keyboard destruction:
Hey there, let's change "shooting" to "shodni", I am a Czech computer and I don't care if you're trying to write in English or Chinese. I am going to randomly switch auto-correct to Czech, even if you disable the function million times over. Also, whenever you try to insert an apostrophe in any other style than copy-paste, I am going to underline the entire sentence with a red wave to remind you of how stupid it is to use a Czech installation of MS Office to write an English story! Yaaaay!

[RustySubmarine]

Thank you MantiBrutalis for giving us all an update for the continuation of your story. You are certainly putting a lot of effort in to it and keeping it interesting.

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by Peter Clausen, 23rd February 1941, 3 PM, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, few miles off the French coast.

Bam!

“This boat is huge,” I say to myself as we load the fourth tube with a 7 meters long torpedo.
Bam!
“Much larger than the little training boats, huh?” comes from Erwin. Just like me, he has just been transferred to the U-104 from training.
“Much more crew, too. There won’t be much more space. I reckon there will be even less, since we have to take supplies for a few months.” Saying that, I turn my head to look at the officer overseeing us. He doesn’t look happy with the fact that we talk this much while performing our duties.

Bam!
Erwin doesn’t seem to mind the expression on the officer’s face and goes on: “They are really putting in some work up there, huh? The rate of fire, wow.”
I just nod my head. I don’t want any trouble with my superiors this soon.

“Crash dive! Crash dive!” the order is chained through the ship by many mouths, bells ringing. We finish loading as the rest of the crew arrives in a hurry, trying to tip the front of the boat down as soon as possible. Nothing happens for a while, the only sounds being the water fizzing around us and engines trying to pick up speed and quickly dive the boat. Then the tilting comes. We are going down.

When we arrive at our designated depth, the officer whispers with a grin: “And now you’ll show me how you can repair this lady while making no noise.”

We have to learn how to maintain and operate this boat, if we want to survive once we go on a patrol in the Atlantic.




Note – I am sorry about my commas. I just can’t grasp them naturally. I know how they work in English in theory, but since we use commas differently and much more often in Czech, my mind is keeping me confused and makes them automatically. And probably in bad places.

[RustySubmarine]

Don't worry about your spelling or grammar, no one is going to criticize you for that. Even English speaking people make mistakes with there own language, including myself.

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 23rd February 1941, Lorient.

First sober day since we returned from the last patrol. Half of our crew had to stay sober today, we were assigned eight new sailors after the remainder of Cloverleaf’s crew left us. Only the doc stayed. There were some medals and promotions given after we came back, basically every one of us got promoted. Not that I remember much of the promotion anyway.

Back to this sober day – after the training staff returned with our boat, we took over the rookies and continued explaining how different IXBs are from the training II types. These new guys aren’t half bad, even if a bit too young. They will fit with the rest of us well. We will see how much will their first combat patrol change them.

Tomorrow there will be some additional training for part of our crew, but not for me. Nothing changed in my job. I still have to understand the rest of the boat very well, but I don’t need to know every single detail.

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 24th February 1941, Lorient.

There was an interesting argument yesterday at the pub. As usual, our crew and several others met at our favorite place, trying to drink our faces off. We were going on about our own business, getting drunk enough to forget that we will have to sail across the Atlantic in a few weeks, after the repairs of the U-104 will be finished.

We weren’t even halfway done, when our captain with a local dockmaster came in shouting at each other. We listened in on the quarrel, as did everybody else inside. The mood of our crew kept sinking lower and lower as expressions like “not critical enough”, “barely a scratch” or “waste of time and resources” were used. And after the final sentence “BdU lets me decide what to repair” was used, the dockmaster marched through the door and our thoughts went deep enough to shame the reach of any U-boat known to men. The Lucky Halibut will be sent to another patrol without any repairs, because she was deemed sea-worthy. We are going to cross the Atlantic again in a few days.

As I am writing this, a young French girl sleeps on my bed behind my back. Time to wake her up, I need to cherish every moment I can grasp, before we sail again. I promised her to show her around my U-boat. She fell for the “brave sailor” quickly. I am not taking her to the Lucky Halibut, the guard wouldn’t let her in anyway. Too many sabotages this month already.




Note - The plan at first was to just write this off with "Bollmann forgot his diary on the boat" or "Bollmann didn't want to recall patrols when on leave", but I just couldn't. I promised myself that I will skip this nonsense and continue straight with the beginning of a new patrol, so I can play my favorite career again. Well, ooooops...

[MantiBrutalis]

~~~Not part of the story~~~

After a recent virus attack on my laptop, the save of this career vanished (as did some of my other (and probably more important) personal files)

I have several back-ups of the whole game, but the save files are of different dates and show different stages of corruption and damage. I am fairly sure I can reconstruct the save back to its former glory, as the damage isn't that severe, I was actually before the start of a new patrol and I nearly managed to repair a broken save file in the past.

I don't know when (or if) I can do this, as other matters came up with this problem.

I am truly sorry, I will keep you posted on the progress...



EDIT1 - Save looks good now, wasn't as damaged as expected. Just a few changes to dates are needed, as the game keeps setting my new patrol to 10th February whatever I set in SH3Commander. I should play this evening a bit, additions to story to be expected in today's evening or morning tomorrow (European time).

[VONHARRIS]

Too bad about that virus attack to your laptop.

Looking forward to reading more of your story.

Gute Jagd Herr Kaleun

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 26th February 1941, 23:10, leaving Lorient.

We just left the base for our next patrol. All the fanfares and parting nonsense. We changed our clothes from our uniforms (as they are impractical in action) to our working clothes (which will have to suffice for a long time, starting now) as soon as we were out of the port and the escort ship left us.

It was very cold outside, much colder than during our last patrol, but we had to check that everything on the deck was ready for action. As we were fixing equipment on the tower, so it won’t come off while under water, a German destroyer not far from us towed its prize, a British merchant, back to Lorient. It seemed they had a good time on the sea. We just have to pray that the Lucky Halibut will be as lucky as that destroyer.

Right now, the crew is in a good mood. The captain is playing a game with them, its purpose is to guess the grid we are going to patrol. No luck so far, but the course we set tells us that it will be a bit more southerly than last time.




Note – Thanks to an idea from sharkbit, I am revising a dice system to implement into my gameplay. Its purpose is to let the dice decide on some occasional situations. For example if to intercept convoys based on its distance and heading, if to transfer to the Mediterranean in October 41 or the participation of the U-104 in Operation Drumbeat. The odds will be decided on the spot according to historical data (for example half of the IX boat were transferred to the Mediterranean).

Note 2 – I feel like my notes about dice rolls or game configuration are clogging the thread a bit, so I will keep these things to myself for now on. Anyone curious enough to PM me will be awarded with answers to his questions.

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by Peter Clausen, 28th February 1941, 2 PM, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, 250km northwest of Spain.

It isn’t that bad, is my first thought when I finally settle on the bed right next to the radio room. Sure, the hygiene isn’t a word I would use when describing the life on a U-boat, at least not without a “no” before it. One will get used to the cramped space after some time. Sure, I didn’t see sunlight in a few days, because we have to stay alert and ready to dive since we left friendly waters, but it’s pretty cold outside anyway. The crew seems solid and experienced, helpful and willing to provide entertainment.

As usual, there is quite a lot of talking going on in our quarters, when suddenly everybody gets quiet and listens. This is yet another quality I found amongst the crew – they have a sixth sense. They always know exactly when will our radioman report radio messages to the captain.

“Contact report, single ship, 45km east of us, medium speed, course north-northeast,” the report states.
We wait a bit in silence, as the control room is too far for us to hear clearly, then the boat tilts and turns, engines loudly presenting the strength they reserved so far. The crew cheers. I cheer with them, even if I am a bit worried about my first combat engagement. Someone on a bed below me hushes us, our radioman isn’t done yet.

“… …double-coded, sir. For your eyes only, sir.”

The captain takes the radioman’s place and starts decoding the message. Minutes pass by as we listen for the outcome. Then the captain walks back to the control room, saying: “Jürgen, do the intercept estimate again. We can’t let this one go, it’s top priority, orders of the BdU.”

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by captain Georg Braun, 28th February 1941, 19:07, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, 200km west-northwest of Vigo.

“Sir?”
“The front one is a destroyer, 1000 tons, British. The other one a passenger ship, but loaded with some crates. 2000 tons,” I answer.
“Small fry,” my first watch officer Jürgen adds.
“We are to destroy the cargo ship by any means, no warning. Order of the BdU.”
“Got to be important. Escorted by a destroyer. Only one little ship.” This man used to be impatient. U-boat service taught him how to keep calm.

I continue describing my observations: “The destroyer is only a kilometer away now, dead ahead. Darting all around the place, looking for U-boats. Looks like one from the world war.”
“V class?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“1100 tons. Torpedoes. Depth charges.”
“Nearly as old as me,” I end the observation amused. “We’ll wait for the cargo. Observe them for now.” I let him to the periscope. I need to think about this.

It’s a small one. But it is important. And the destroyer won’t let us get another chance. Two torpedoes then.
“Sir, destroyer turned around. It’s going back to the cargo ship.”
I let him watch the ships. He’s experienced, no need to man the periscope myself, unless we’re shooting. Shooting is mine.

“It’s now sailing just ahead of the cargo. Speed and heading stable. Estimating 10 knots.”
Good. “Set for magnetic pistols. All bow tubes. Depth 4.”
“What’s the plan, captain?” Jürgen asks nervously.
“All four torpedoes spread at the destroyer. It’s dark enough, they won’t notice until it’s too late. And they have nowhere to run from the spread. Afterwards, we can do anything we want with the cargo ship.”
There’s a wide grin on Jürgen’s face.

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by Garry Smith, 28th February 1941, 19:12, HMS Walpole, 200km west-northwest of Vigo.

I suddenly wake up. There was a whirling sound in my dream that woke me up. Probably just in a dream. Probably.
“Hey, did you hear anything?”
“Shut it and let me sleep, Garry.”

I am now sure of it. I heard something, and that something woke me up. I stretch myself on the bed and then I put my ear to the side of the ship. Just water going past. Or… Now! I am not sure, but there was the whirling again. Faint. Distant. Or was there?
“Did you hear that?” I ask again.
“And did you hear me? Shut it! I want to sleep finally. You and your ghost sounds.”

Well, probably wasn’t anything. Maybe I’m imagining things, I am still all drowsy.
I try to fall asleep again, but something is going on in my mind. Well, let’s get some fresh air…

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by captain Georg Braun, 28th February 1941, 19:12, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, 200km west-northwest of Vigo.

“Hard to port, ahead slow,” I whisper orders. Damn torpedoes. The destroyer was right there, the two torpedoes in the middle should have hit it. I swear if anyone tells me again that our torpedoes are working now and that they fixed every problem there was… I will have to kill them with my own hands. We left the base two days ago and still at least two of the four were broken. Dammit!

Just then I realize the tension of men behind me. I answer their worried faces: “Duds. They didn’t even notice them. Prepare to fire the bow tubes. Depth 5, impact pistols.”

Time reluctantly passed by, as slowly as we were turning to present our enemy with another pair of our torpedoes. But soon it was apparent that we weren’t turning fast enough. We lost this opportunity. Dammit.