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Post by cwemyss on Nov 14, 2022 15:56:57 GMT -6
May 21, 1905 – Nags Head, North Carolina Olive Newberry ran across the top of the nearest dune then disappeared out of sight toward the water, three other children in her wake. Rear Admiral Harold McLeod leaned back in his porch chair and smiled as one of his oldest friends watched the kids play. “Your daughter certainly has her father’s air of command,” he grinned. “The other three would follow her into battle if she asked.” Admiral Newberry laughed and shook his head. “She’s certainly a handful,” he answered. “Smart and fun, but she keeps us busy. And she knows these dunes like we know a bridge.” Captain Christopher Hendrickson came out of the house with three beers, fresh from the icebox, and handed two of them to the older men. He’d been behind them at Annapolis but had been lucky enough to escort McLeod’s family around during graduation week. He’d hit it off with Harold’s sister, they’d courted on and off for the next three years and been married after he graduated. The oldest and youngest in the pack were his. This was the first time in several years all three families had vacationed together. “So, my esteemed admirals,” he asked a bit sardonically, “How will we change the world today?” “We may not have to,” Newberry responded. “Dewey’s been inviting a lot of the Captains and Commodores who were marking time to start their post-naval careers. A couple of them have raised hell with whoever they thought could help them, but The Chairman is very difficult to outmaneuver. And by and large, their replacements aren’t based on seniority.” “Yes, I noticed that,” McLeod answered. “Most of my Squadron and Flotilla Commanders were cruiser captains a year ago. There’s new leadership at BuCons and BuEng too.” “Yes, and that solves half the problem,” answered Hendrickson. “We still lack bases in Europe, and without those we’ll run into the same problems again. If we can’t base ships close to a fight, and our opponents won’t send their ships here, we resort to raider war. And our railroad barons, commercial magnates, and the press clearly don’t have the patience for that approach.” “True enough,” answered Newberry, with a wry laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on exactly that?” Hendrickson smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Oui, monsieur, but alas. I’ve spent the last six months back and forth between Paris, Brest and Toulon. And while our French friends are tres sympathetique, and they’ve included me as an observer in a number of interesting tactical exercises, so far they haven’t been terribly interested in a basing agreement. And honestly, I think ol’ Teddy would prefer an agreement with the Brits anyway.” The three men looked seaward, distracted by a large red kite appearing over the dunes, it’s string presumably running back to Newberry’s daughter down by the water. Newberry looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked “Didn’t the Wright’s fly their machine somewhere near here?” McLeod nodded, “Yes, just a few miles up the coast,” he answered. “Nancy and I were here when they did it, the local paper ate it up. I was disappointed they didn’t come back to Kitty Hawk this year, they’re apparently flying in Ohio somewhere. I wasn’t able to see it myself, but I’m told it was the flimsiest contraption you’ve ever laid eyes on. Sticks, rags, and a bit of wire, and they barely managed to stay in the air for a full minute.” “Imagine the view, though...” said Hendrickson, thoughtfully.
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Post by prophetinreverse on Nov 14, 2022 18:24:36 GMT -6
Ouch… I suppose it makes some sense but I never liked the strategy of scrapping nearly completed ships. Even obsolete, they’re still newer than any of your existing fleet units. I always preferred scrapping an equivalent number of older ships and staggering construction pauses to get them out, then do refits across the fleet while a moratorium on new builds happens. Of course having said this now I’m expecting multiple posts from far more experienced players than I telling me this strategy is suboptimal. I do some of both... I hate giving up the 'sunk cost' of the partially built ship, but it's war budget anyway. Rochester was so newly started (~6 months), and the "new design" costs for Toledo so low, that it was an easy choice. Scrapping Indianapolis 3/4 complete was a tougher choice... basically, it was much bigger and so more expensive to maintain, 2 knots slower, with much less effective weapons and fire control than a Toledo. 22 knots and 4x9 mains on Central R/F, backed by 12 x 6 secondaries and 14x3 tertiary (both local) vs 24 knots and 10x8 mains on Central Firing backed by 12x4 secondaries. It was going to get scrapped in a couple years when BC's start coming in, and killing it now freed up $2M/month for other things.
Oh. I seem to have missed the part where you somehow did pure alchemy and fit ten 8” guns on an armored cruiser at 24 knots. Scrap the whole blessed fleet then - you’ll be fine for the next ten years with just them and a few destroyers.
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Post by cwemyss on Nov 14, 2022 19:53:07 GMT -6
Well... I'm using Seawolf's speed mod: nws-online.proboards.com/thread/3123/higher-realistic-speeds-ships-julyThat seems to be freeing up a few extra tons, though it should be univeral (ie, enemy gets the benefit too). Toledo *is* pretty light on armor, only 4.5 inch belt IIRC and a 1.5-inch deck. Just barely enough to stop current 8-inch shells, and completely inadequate in another couple months/years.
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Post by cwemyss on Nov 14, 2022 20:34:03 GMT -6
Well... I'm using Seawolf's speed mod: nws-online.proboards.com/thread/3123/higher-realistic-speeds-ships-julyThat seems to be freeing up a few extra tons, though it should be univeral (ie, enemy gets the benefit too). Toledo *is* pretty light on armor, only 4.5 inch belt IIRC and a 1.5-inch deck. Just barely enough to stop current 8-inch shells, and completely inadequate in another couple months/years. It's worse even than I thought!!! The armor's an inch too thin for it's own guns. Still, fast, and lots of 8" shells. That ought to count for something...
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Post by cwemyss on Nov 14, 2022 20:47:54 GMT -6
NORWAY HAS SECEDED DISSOLVES UNION WITH SWEDEN Storthing Declares that King Oscar No Longer Rules in Norway – Council of State to Govern Christiania, Norway, June 8 – “Norway from to-day is a fully independent and sovereign state.”
This is the text of the editorials in the Norwegian newspapers and it reflects the spirit with which the people of Norway accept yesterday’s action in the Storthing when it proclaimed King Oscar is no longer king of Norway. Following is the resolution passed by the Storthing, unanimously and without debate: “Whereas, all the members of the council of state have laid down their offices; and, “Whereas, his majesty, the King, has declared himself unable to establish a new government for the country; and,
“Whereas, the constitutional, regal power thus becomes inoperative, the Storthing authorizes the members of the council of state who retired to-day to exercise until further notice, as the Norwegian government, the power appertaining to the King in accordance with Norway’s constitution and existing laws, with those changes which are necessitated by the fact that the union with Sweden under one king is dissolved in consequence of the King having ceased to act as a Norwegian king." At its meeting last evening the Storthing addressed a proclamation to the Norwegian people in which is given the detailed account of the events preceding the passing of the resolution. The proclamation concludes as follows: “The Storthing hopes that the Norwegian people will succeed in living in peace and on good terms with all, and not the least with the Swedish people, to whom we are linked by so many natural ties.” It was arranged that the Storthing will send a deputation to convey the address adopted by it to the King. This address declares that no ill feeling is entertained against him, his dynasty or the Swedish nation and asks him to cooperate in the selection of a young prince of the house of Bernadotte to occupy the throne of Norway. It is not anticipated that King Oscar will consent to any prince of the house of Bernadotte accepting the Norwegian crown. Should the King refuse, there is a possibility that the throne may be offered to Prince Waldemar, the third son of King Christian of Denmark. The people of Denmark largely sympathise with the Norwegian demands.
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Post by cwemyss on Nov 14, 2022 20:50:37 GMT -6
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Post by cwemyss on Nov 17, 2022 8:22:25 GMT -6
Ørje, Norway, Near the border with Sweden - October 28, 1905 Oberst Jens Aahdal straightened and wiped his hands on a rag as the horses pulled the now un-stuck 7.5 cm gun along the road heading north from Ørje Festning. The squad of artillerymen followed, ready to start the gun moving again should it find another muddy pit. This whole exercise was madness, he thought, shaking his head ruefully. And made worse because it had rained most of the previous week. He began to turn back into the fort to help with the next guns when he spotted two senior officers making their way up the same road. They moved their mounts to the side of the path, letting the gun pass, before resuming their climb to the fort's entrance. Aahdal saluted as the two men reined to a stop and dismounted. Brigader Frich he'd expected, but he was very surprised to meet Generalløytnant Anders Krog, chief of the newly independent Norwegian Army. "Oberst," the general started, "very admirable of you to lend a shoulder." "It's the least I could do, General" answered Aahdal. "I don’t think the men fully understand why we're pulling back from the frontier, and the weather's making them doubly miserable. A little mud on my tunic won't hurt a thing and buys a lot of good will." Frich scowled slightly as Krog responded. "It would seem we've not communicated well enough, Oberst. The treaty required shutting down the fort, and these guns will be moved to Trøndelag to cover the central part of the country." "There's a company of the Østfold Regiment moving up to temporarily fill this gap," Frich broke in, "and another is covering at Strømsfoss. But really, there’s little chance of Sweden coming across the border." "They have just as many socialists as we do, I suppose," answered Aahdal. "Yes, and even less desire to fight," Frich agreed. "We've partially mobilized, very quietly, but there have been protests in Gothenburg and Stockholm against similar orders." "I'm more worried about the Russians," Krog added. "Their army is ten times what the Swedes can field, and thanks to that fool Bobrikov, all of Finland is ready to rise against the Tsar. If it gets worse... well there's nothing like creating an external enemy to keep the people's focus elsewhere." "I certainly hope it doesn't come to that," said Aahdal. "My brother is a captain in the Alta Regiment. It's rugged terrain up there, and I wouldn't envy anyone fighting through it." "I share your hope" agreed Krog, "it would be a cold, difficult struggle. The Russian Navy is probably the bigger concern though. They have two dozen battleships and cruisers in the Baltic, and without the Swedes we have just a handful of monitors and torpedo boats. The Russians could sail up to Kristiania and there's little we could say about it." "Well that's certainly not a perfect situation," answered Aahdal. "A little above my pay grade I suppose, but what are our options?" Krog smiled enigmatically and said "Yes, Oberst, quite a bit above. But suffice it to say our Foreign Minister has several irons in the fire."
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Post by cwemyss on Nov 30, 2022 22:09:34 GMT -6
October 28, 1905 – White House Executive Offices, Washington, DC “This is utter madness,” announced Treasury Secretary Leslie Shaw. “We’ve drained the coffers intervening throughout Latin America, we’ve barely gotten past survey work on the Panama Canal, and now you propose jumping into Europe’s squabbles with both feet?” “What they’re asking isn’t a large sum,” answered William Moody. “And what we get in return is leverage. A say in the future of Europe, and in turn a say in when, how, and against whom we get pulled into the next clash.” Secretary of State Elihu Root nodded his agreement with the Attorney General. “The French are going to provide an equal sum, twenty million, and are outwardly very pleased we’re stepping in. The Germans and British are publicly much more circumspect but they’ve both privately signaled their acquiescence. The only ones who are outraged are the Russians.” “And frankly,” broke in The President, “I don’t give one thought to what the damned Russians want, after last month’s affair off Reykjavik. The Norwegians expect the Russians to move on them next. They’ve asked for our help, and help them we will.” Navy Secretary Charles Bonaparte added “If it weren’t for Commodore Quimby’s cool head we’d already have exchanged more than warning shots with the Russians. He knew the Danes and Iceland had asked for assistance, and that the Russians had no standing to land troops. But he also understood the greater picture; we had no other forces in Europe, and most of our heavier fleet units are in some sort of refit.” “This arrangement degrades our position even more!” shot back Shaw. “We’re no stronger in Europe than we were before, the deal with Norway further thins our Navy where we need to bolster it, and we’re given a few thousand miles of indefensible coastline to look after.” “On the contrary,” answered Bonaparte, “what we’re sending them are three small cruisers and a half dozen obsolete torpedo boat destroyers, all of which we can comfortably do without. In return we get bases. And their own fleet isn’t insignificant, at least locally.” “We have also started training several mountain infantry regiments,” added Secretary of War William Howard Taft. “We’ve had to expand the facilities at Madison Barracks, in far northern New York, but the terrain and climate aren’t very different from what they’ll see when they’re stationed in Norway.” “Yes, and equipping those troops also come at a cost,” retorted the Treasury Secretary, in one last bid for fiscal sanity if not military. “Meanwhile Mister Bonaparte is burning funds to build a permanent station in the Aleutians.” “Secretary Shaw,” growled Senator William Allison, “Congress allocated the money for Dutch Harbor a year ago, that has already been debated, done and dusted. And as far as Norway goes, we can find the money if that’s a concern. I think we could even scrape together support enough to ratify a formal treaty, if it came to that.” The very senior Senator from Iowa normally leaned toward isolation and protectionism. He’d been swayed, along with a majority of the legislature, by Norwegian envoy Hjalmar Hauge. The tireless emissary had spent most of October in the halls of congress telling stories of Russian cruelty in Finland, speaking of the Norwegian people’s earnest desire for independence and a free republic, and otherwise building support for his country’s cause. Shaw’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he didn’t respond. He knew a losing argument and after all, he wasn’t insensitive to the Norwegian position himself. The President waved a hand. “In the most likely case, we get a solid European partner and a few ruffled feathers among the countries that call themselves ‘Great Powers’,” he said with a chuckle. “But if it comes to a scrape, the Russians would be my first choice in any case. They’re a bunch of brutes for starters, and the Tsar is on none too solid ground. Send the Iceland Squadron to Norway and we'll work the rest out.”
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Post by cwemyss on Dec 6, 2022 22:56:36 GMT -6
November 15, 1905 – Stavanger, Norway Rear Admiral George Quimby surveyed the Stavanger waterfront and saw his cutter heading back out to the Louisville, anchored a few hundred yards into the icy harbor. The rest of his squadron, three more cruisers and a couple destroyers, had also positioned well out of the way to allow the transports to tie up the town’s small commercial wharf. A battalion of Marines was already trooping out of one of the big ships and a battery of 5-inch guns, destined for positions overlooking the mouth of Stavanger’s twisting fjord, was coming off another. “Sir, unloading is on schedule, and we’re due to meet the mayor and the Admiral at noon,” said Lieutenant Commander David Finney. Quimby turned to look at his aide and saw a deep fatigue he hoped wasn’t as obvious in his face. “Very good,” he answered, “We still have a lot of work ahead of us to set up shop here.” “Yes, sir. The next ships in line carry construction supplies, equipment for a wireless station, and the engineers. I’ve had a look at the area the Norwegians have offered for our base. It’s pretty spartan now, but there’s plenty of space, a good quay, and a couple warehouses. They’ve put aside four thousand tons of coal for us too. I think in a month or two we’ll be as capable as any of our overseas stations.” “We’ll need to be,” Quimby responded. “And faster if we can do it. The Russian scout that shadowed us all the way in wasn’t willing to pick a fight, but I wouldn’t bet against him coming back with his larger brothers. There’s been too much tough talk out of both St Petersburg and Washington.” In September Quimby had led a pair of cruisers on a hastily conceived mission from Norfolk to Iceland. They’d had a tense standoff there with a Russian fleet, but thoroughly outgunned and absent open hostilities had back-tracked to Boston. There they’d received orders to transit at best speed with a larger, much more thoughtfully-composed squadron to Stavanger. Eight thousand miles of cruising in eight weeks, shadowed for most of the journey by potentially unfriendly warships from Britain, Germany, and of course Russia. It had been a tense, exhausting period that looked very likely in Quimby’s view to be a precursor to a war. They’d be lucky to have the new base up and running before hostilities began in earnest. “Admiral, I welcome you to Norway,” intoned Fridtjolf Wedel a little later, gesturing grandly, “And I hope you enjoy our small corner of the country.” The mayor was dressed for the occasion, in frock coat, striped trousers and even an ascot. Norwegian Vice Admiral Johan Koren extended a hand, greeting Quimby a good bit less formally. “I trust your passage wasn’t too taxing. The North Atlantic is never terribly friendly this time of year, and as I understand it you’ve crossed it three times.” “Yes,” answered Quimby. “It’s been quite a couple of months. I appreciate your hospitality, and I beg your pardon in foregoing any ceremony while we set up our base and set our captains to learning your waters.” “Certainly,” answered Koren. “I understand you have much to do. In lieu of any reception, I’d ask you and your staff to dine ashore with me tonight. Informally of course.” “That will be fine,” responded Quimby, wondering just how he’d be able to stay awake through a dinner, casual or otherwise. Koren continued, “I’ve assigned an officer to join each of your crews, as your Secretary requested, to help integrate our fleets.” Quimby considered for a moment before answering. “Admiral, I believe that will help tremendously, and I welcome them on board. But we’re still a long way from being able to truly operate together. Different signal systems, different codebooks, and different fleet practices. Might I suggest that we divide responsibilities. Your fleet is well positioned to protect your capital and patrol the Skagerrak. We can patrol from here, north toward Narvik and beyond. And we won’t be far if – “ “If the Russians come calling,” finished the Norwegian admiral. “I’ll give the orders on my side to make it so.”
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Post by zederfflinger on Dec 7, 2022 9:36:20 GMT -6
Its kind of funny to think that the Eidsvolds would be top of the line coast defense ships at this point.
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Post by vonfriedman on Dec 7, 2022 12:27:04 GMT -6
I really admire the colored ship profiles. I would like to do the same in my AARs of the "War in the Pacific" SAI campaign (SAI discussions board)
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Post by cwemyss on Dec 7, 2022 12:55:16 GMT -6
Thanks! I'm a sucker for "infographics", it seemed pretty natural.
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Post by cwemyss on Dec 17, 2022 8:56:24 GMT -6
Near Bjerkvik, Norway, 10 miles north of Narvik – December 27, 1905 All around him Lieutenant Colonel James Schumer heard the crunch of shovels biting into frozen soil as his battalion attempted to dig in. He could barely see the nearer of the Marines through the spitting snowfall and dusky late morning half-light. He pulled his jacket tight around him and turned to Sergeant Major Hubert Waddell. “Hub, this is pretty bitter work. Do we have the battalion kitchen set up yet?” “Yes, sir,” Waddell responded, his weathered face barely visible behind a heavy woolen hood. “They should be in business in an hour or two, by mid-afternoon at the latest. We’re working out a plan to rotate platoons back to Battalion HQ for hot chow at least once a day.” “Excellent. Captain Gundersen, please pass my thanks to your leadership. Without the winter gear we’d have been in a lot of trouble.” Kaptein Gustav Gundersen nodded and responded in nearly perfect English “It is the least we could do, Colonel. The kit you brought on your ships might be fine for New England or Colorado, but two hundred kilometers north of the Arctic Circle? These hills will be awfully cold during the night.” Waddell gave a gruff chuckle, asking “When is it not nighttime around here?” “July,” the young captain shot back. He’d gained a fairly American sense of humor and while studying at Boston College, part of the reason he’d been chosen for attachment to the US Marine battalion. Schumer smiled tolerantly then continued. “Food aside, we likely have a week to get sorted. The Russians were reported moving south from Bardufoss yesterday. The roads are terrible and the terrain is rough, they should have a difficult time. We’ll let them work south and come to us exhausted” “Sir,” interrupted Gundersen, “If you don’t mind my counsel, they just crossed the border four days ago and covered the hundred and fifty kilometers to Bardufoss in that time. These are Finnish troops, not men born to the comfort of St Petersburg or Odessa. They are on skis and moving quickly. I’d expect their advance elements soon, certainly by morning.” Schumer raised an eyebrow, thinking of his own experiences in the Corps rare winter maneuvers. The battalion was largely composed of veterans, men who had faced hard fighting in Cuba or the Philippines. Six months earlier most of the unit had been based at Naval Station Port Royal, in South Carolina. None were accustomed to working in these conditions. “We will see,” he finally allowed, watching the Battalion executive officer struggle through the knee-deep snow to reach the trio. Major John Myers saluted Colonel Schumer, nodded politely to the other two, and addressed the CO. “Sir, all three forward companies have started setting defensive positions and the locations look good. I shifted C Company a little to better control the eastern approaches. But the men are struggling to make any headway digging into this ground, and the guns are having a devil of a time getting up to their station. I’ve detailed a platoon from D Company to hacking out a better trail up the hill so that we have half a chance of keeping the guns supplied.” The Marines had moved from Stavanger aboard two small ships to the fishing village of Bjerkvik at the northern limit of the Ofotfjorden, then moved out of town to a series of hills overlooking the multitude of valleys approaching Narvik from the north. By dint of the trio of three-inch guns attached to the battalion, they were anchoring a line of Norwegian infantry and militia stationed across the narrowest part of the country. So far the Russians had respected Sweden’s loudly-declared neutrality but were sweeping south in strength through Norway’s lightly-defended arctic reaches. The Marines were a crucial reinforcement to the thin line of hard-pressed troops guarding Norway’s northernmost ice-free port. There was a sudden commotion as a Marine from A Company came up at a run, gasping clouds of steam from pushing through the snow. “Colonel, message from Lieutenant Roberts. There’s Norwegian troops retreating south through our positions. About half have stopped to dig in with our company, the rest have run straight through. They speak little English, but from what we’ve gathered the Russians aren’t far behind.” Schumer looked at the Lance Corporal for a solid five seconds, comprehension dawning as he heard the faint sounds of gunfire to the north. He glanced at Gundersen, the young Norwegian captain wisely keeping his expression neutral. Quickly working through his initial disbelief, Schumer swung into immediate action. “Thank you, Lance Corporal. Get back up to your company and tell them to prepare for immediate contact. Major, get another platoon from D Company to the waterfront and move as much ammunition from the ships to our gunners as we can manage. The rest of D company will serve as a reserve. Hub, get over to B and C companies, find out if they’re seeing the same thing and get them ready. Captain, I need you to start gathering your wayward countrymen here. If they’re capable of getting back in the fight, we’ll include them with D company.” “Gentlemen, I believe it’s about to get a lot hotter. Give em hell.”
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Post by cwemyss on Dec 26, 2022 23:56:07 GMT -6
March 1, 1906 – Department of the Navy, Washington, DC Rear Admiral Robert Marler straightened his uniform, barely conscious of doing so. He and The Chairman had become passing acquaintances over the past year, frequently sitting in the same briefings and discussions, and even occasionally meeting like this. But even so, coming to his office always gave Marler pause. This was their first meeting one on one since the war with Russia had started, and Marler knew the Chairman was very busy. “Send Marler in”, the Chairman’s voice rang, “and get us a fresh pot of coffee.” The Chairman’s flag aide nodded to Marler, then exited to chase down a steward. Marler rose and entered the large inner office, admiring the view past The Chairman’s large desk. It was unusually pleasant for this early in the spring, with the morning sun slanting through broken clouds promising a warm afternoon. “At ease, at ease,” the Chairman said, as Marler came to attention in front of his desk. Please, take a seat at the table, I’d like to see what you’ve brought.” “Thank you, sir. Would you like to start with the current state of construction, or the California?” “I saw that we sent the Truxtuns to Norway last month, and I believe we’re almost done with their cruisers as well? How are the rest of our refits coming along?” “Yes, sir. The Truxtuns took on Norwegian crews in Maine and are now in service with their navy as the ‘V-class’. Two of the Montgomery’s finished refits last week and will cross after their crews finish training, and the third will join this month. They’ve renamed them Bergen, Trondheim, and Christiania. All three received a deep overhaul of their powerplant, better gun-laying systems, and a few other minor modifications for arctic service.” “Excellent. How are our own refits proceeding?” the Chairman asked. “Most of our battle fleet has the latest fire control and about half the cruisers. The war caught us at a bad time. Not completely unprepared, obviously, but certainly at a disadvantage. We had a dozen cruisers in the yard when the Russians invaded Norway.” “Yes, that will require a bit better planning next time,” admonished the Chairman. “Agreed, sir,” Marler responded, somewhat abashed. “It wasn’t ideal. At least we’ll have the Toledo and the first of the Indianapolis-class commissioned by summer.” “I remember Toledo, she’s the new armored cruiser. Indianapolis is a slight growth of the St Louis?” “Yessir, more guns than St Louis, somewhat larger coal bunkers, and the central firing system, and planned for the same 24-knot speed. We did eliminate the accommodation for a Marine company though. That was considered an acceptable tradeoff.” “We hardly ever took advantage of that anyway,” the Chairman agreed. “We’ve seen what our big light cruisers can do. We don’t need them flung around the world, we need them with the fleet. There’s plenty of gunboats to show the flag.” “Just so,” agreed Marler. “We may have to delay the next Toledo-class, the Jersey City is going to be taking up a construction slip in Norfolk until late April I’d say.” “A more than even trade,” the Chairman said with a grim smile. “She got pasted, for sure, and I regret losing the Hopkins, she’d only been in commission nine months. But the exchange! A pair of twelve-thousand-ton Russian armored cruisers destroyed, and one of them run up on the beach at Port Royal. Incredible morale boost for the Marine recruits, and a pretty good intelligence haul besides.” “Certainly worth a few months in the yard, and great that our ships finally got to grips with theirs,” Marler said. “The Russians across the board haven’t been particularly keen to fight, other than their troops.” “Yes, and those were stopped cold by the Marines and the Norwegian Army. Their Navy has barely stirred from port and that’s been frustrating, though perhaps understandable if this cruiser battle is any indication of their fleet’s state of training. Admiral Quimby is keen to get at them and we’ve sent plenty of forces to Europe, but they’ve avoided almost every battle. That’s why we asked you to dust off the Sirius-class.” “Yes, and we’ll have eight of them ready to go by the end of April. At that point we’ll be ready to focus on heavy forces again,” Marler said, leaning forward expectantly. “So,” sighed the Chairman, leafing through the folder Marler had set on the table. He stopped on a beautifully rendered concept drawing. “Let’s talk about your proposed California." "There’s a lot to like about the concept. The 14-inch guns are outstanding, our 12-inchers are not going to be adequate forever. The Brits have switched over to 13-inch, and there are rumblings the new Cornwalis will be 14-inch… It’s certainly a large enough ship to carry them. So we need the biggest guns BuOrd can produce. Fitting the California with three turrets is a marvelous start, but are six guns going to be enough?” “Frankly, sir, I don’t think it is,” answered Marler. “I’d like to get eight guns on a broadside. But all of our studies point to 21 knots being the right answer. That will immediately obsolete most of the world’s cruiser fleets and will allow us to define when and how we fight. 21 knots means a large engineering suite, and with a powerplant that size we’d struggle to fit eight 12-inch guns, let alone larger.” “And that’s really the rub. Do we want speed or firepower?” the Chairman asked. “The War College says speed, but my experience says that at some point you’ll get caught in a situation where you can’t outmaneuver or outrun a fight.” “Sir, I don’t suggest that our fleet is shy,” began Marler. “No, no,” the Chairman stopped him, waving a hand. “It’s not that at all, not anymore. But the war games all assume you’ll be able to choose the best conditions for battle. Sometimes you’re going to be caught between an enemy fleet and a rocky shore, maybe in the dark or horrible weather, and at that point it’s a slugging contest.” “We’re fortunate then,” responded Marler, “this design out-fights anything we know about. And we know it’s horribly expensive, but that’s the only way to get that level of capability. We also have a similar concept in work for a very heavy cruiser, about twenty percent more expensive than the Toledo’s but it will be able to crush anything that can run with it.” “Very well,” answer the Chairman, enjoying the young Admiral’s enthusiasm. “Let’s start with the California and a couple sisters. We’ll look again at the cruisers in a few months.”
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Post by cwemyss on Dec 27, 2022 10:14:34 GMT -6
Ed note: this is a type I don't usually build, 6x mains. I like to throw a couple wing turrets on, but right now I can't build wings in main gun caliber.
But the Brits have THIRTY FOUR battleships, I have ~18. They're relatively friendly, and most of theirs are 17-19 knot, 4x12... but still. I need to get some kind of capital hulls in the water.
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