Turn 20: Hail and farewell

1—7 May 1942

Streak breaker

Let’s get one thing out of the way right off the bat (and then never speak of it again): the wretched, incomprehensible scoreless streak that swallowed April whole is over, finally over. USS Saury (SS-189) ended it on 5 May by bringing down a 3,000 ton merchant in the Solomons. It was Saury’s second kill (but her first on purpose).

Saury’s victory was the first for the service since 24 March, 42 long days ago. (But who’s counting?) During that streak, the service conducted 80 sub-weeks worth of patrols, made a total of 71 attacks, and saw six submarines damaged and one lost. (That last point bears repeating. Number of enemy sunk in April: 0; number of subs lost: 1.) It was, to say the least, a mind-boggling experience. It showed me in a quite tangible way that incredibly unlikely is not the same as impossible.

It also might well end up costing me the game. The May career longevity milestone looms; a month ago, it looked like we’d make it in a walkover. Now...? Let’s just say that operations this month will be fraught with interest.

Turn 19: Loss

22—30 April 1942

By late April ’42 in the real world, the U.S. had lost five submarines in the Pacific. In that regard, at least, we have been very, very lucky.

The sub school Color Guard at the WWII National
Submarine Memorial East

Two of those five sub casualties were claimed in combat at sea, one was scuttled after being bombed in port, and two others were lost to mishaps that were not directly combat related. In contrast, going into the final week of April, only a single AL&SW boat had been lost—and that, all the way back in December, when the war was less than a full week old. We’ve had a few close calls, to be sure. But 60 boats have sailed in the Pacific Fleet, and after 18 weeks of sustained and intense combat operations, 59 of them remained in commission. A remarkable run. But this wretched month wasn’t finished with us just yet.

On 22 April, a land-based bomber surprised USS Thresher (SS-200) on the surface in the Marshall Islands operating area, two days after she’d embarked upon her fifth war patrol. The big American fleet boats were not quick divers, making the sudden appearance of enemy aircraft a constant worry. The Japanese plane dropped a string of bombs on the crash diving sub. One was a direct hit, or near enough: the sub’s pressure hull was fatally breached just aft of her conning tower. The sea poured through the wound as, for one last time, The Troublemaker slipped beneath the calm surface of the Pacific.

Her life and career were brief but spectacular. Thresher went down as unquestionably the service’s top performer. Just five days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, she made the first American attack on a Japanese capital ship. She (wildly) missed a heavy cruiser, but (after narrowly avoiding disaster in the ensuing counterattack) she doggedly lined up a second attack on the same target—only to miss (wildly) again. Three weeks later she scored her first kill, sinking a target by gunfire (the only sub yet to do so). That put her in an early tie atop the leader board for number of ships sunk; she would never in her life relinquish that spot. Her war ended with five enemy ships sunk, totaling 24,000 tons.

On a personal note, Thresher’s loss affected me more than anything, good or bad, that I can ever remember happening in a game. It’s silly how emotionally invested we can get in these things, isn’t it? (Or maybe that’s just me, and my sentimental streak showing through.)

Turn 1: It could have been worse...

7 − 17 December 1941

Because of the way the scenario is set up, Turn 1 is a bit of an odd duck.  It is characterized largely by the frantic deployment of the boats that start the war in port in Manila.  A few subs begin the war at sea, though, with excellent chances of seeing early combat.  And not just any combat — it’s all D-Column, Task-Force-only stuff.  That means a lot of capital ships are going to show up in the crosshairs.  A good draw can lead to juicy targets with little or no ASW presence.  One lucky shot can have a major impact on the early game and bag a significant portion of the first career longevity milestone.  One lucky shot.

Of course, that's the hope.  In practice, it's not exactly fish-in-a-barrel stuff.

USS Trout (SS-202)

Take, for example, the experience of the USS Trout.  At sea in the vicinity of Midway when the IJN struck Pearl Harbor, Trout was the first boat to make contact with the enemy upon commencement of hostilities.  Sighting warships on the horizon, she maneuvered to set up an attack—and was almost run over by an aggressive IJN destroyer before she ever even identified a target.  A vicious depth charging left her significantly damaged.  She managed to limp away—lucky to survive the encounter—but she remains underway, and in significant peril.  {In game terms, the very first target flipped in the game was a Diligent Escort.  You have got to be kidding me.  Rolled a 7, yielding a “Damaged” result.}

Things did not immediately improve much.