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Book One World War Three 1946

Book One World War Three 1946
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Saturday, September 10, 2011

The Little Ones

North Sea
September 8th, 1946
Depth 100 meters
Conning Tower
Former Kriegsmarine U3041 Type XXI U-boat
Re-Named Soviet Naval Vessel B-30

I can’t believe they’ve turned this beautiful killing machine into an oil tanker and supply ship. How stupid can they be back at headquarters? We carry many more torpedoes than those little midgets. We could do so much more damage than those two fish the midget carries.

“Did you look at the condition of those crew men after they crawled out of that little sausage? I don’t think they will ever walk again. What a joke to expect them to ever get back in those death traps again. They are not meant to be out there so far from home.”

“Be quiet Number One. We only have 6 B subs and there are hundreds of those midgets. If we can extend their range by giving relief to their crews and resupply them to double their range that is a mission worth running. The Brits will never know what hit them. So many attacks from so many places yet no subs to sink. “

“I guess your correct comrade. Imagine their consternation when they finally catch one of those midgets and they are way past their normal cruising range. They will panic and with very good reason. Are we really expected to relieve those crews on the midgets? “

“The commissar has said we should call them the Little Ones.”

“Well Capitan… Midgets or Little Ones it makes no difference. They will not fare well in this kind of sea.”

“The joint attacks are set for tomorrow” Number One and the Little ones will create quite a splash especially way out there where the NATO fools will never expect them.” Imagine their surprise when they finally get a hold of one and try and figure out how they went so far on their limited fuel. As for a incentive… the crews get to go home as heroes if they complete their mission. Heroes with money in their pocket and from what I hear some of them will gain not only their hero’s welcome but also relieve from going back to prison or even an execution. A successful mission means a lot to these men and their families who are closely tied to their valor. No Number One I do not envy them but I do understand their motivation.”

“Tomorrow they should all be in position far out in areas never imagined by the NATO sub hunters. Then whoever is left tries to meet with us and our sisters to receive new supplies trade crews and get a well deserved welcome back home. Meanwhile new Little Ones are making their way to meeting areas far away from the prying eyes of NATO”

Crenshaw Keeps at it

Crenshaw was deep in thought. According to these reports we are easily picking up their radar signals and they are primitive. Then why can we not deflect those missiles? Smith reports here that they are obviously using old 1945 German technology. We pickup the signals and match them with the jammer signal and yet nothing happens the missiles keep coming. Why are the jamming techniques not working? What have they done to change the signals?

He gets up and walks around his cluttered desk and writes something on the wall behind the map that is hanging precariously from a couple of nails. The map is actually his real job. He is supposed to be keeping track of all the Red Army squadrons and their locations. All he has to do is read the intelligence reports and place pins into the map with little flags on them. Any mindless monkey could do that. His consuming passion was what was behind the map.
The Soviet ground control is trying to paint our bombers from the ground but all of our technicians are sure that the signal is jammed almost immediately yet the dang missiles keep coming. Like a moth drawn to a flame or a falcon closing in on an unsuspecting duck. What are they using to control those missiles from the ground? I have to write that down.

Something about those missile reports had briefly jogged his memory but then he lost it when he started to cough. Too many cigarettes he guessed. I have to cut back. If I think about it too much it will never come. But how do you do that…count sheep? No that was to go to sleep. He was so engrossed in though that he failed to realize it was well past quitting time when the guard knocked on the door and asked if everything was alright.

Damn it was almost there again. If this buffoon that not interrupted my chain of thought…”yes everything is just fine Chuck. Just contemplating my navel, I’ll be out of here and upstairs in no time. I’ll see you up there.”

Damn what was it? Radar that shouldn’t work but yet is working…or is it?

Could the jammers be jammed? No that’s ridiculous. Some kind of optical system? But how would they fit it in and get a signal back to the operator? One sheep, two sheep, three sheep… Time to go home. Wait what if they were using…

The phone stated to ring. “Hello Crenshaw here. Yes sir I’ll have the map updated by 1000 hours. Don’t worry sir it will be done. Yes sir good night sir”.

He hangs up and drops back in this chair racked by a coughing fit. As he slowly recovers all he can think about is the deep down pain in his chest. I better get this checked out. It could be pneumonia or bronchitis and I’m sure these Luckys aren’t helping. Maybe I should try and quite again. Yeah right maybe I should forget to breath again. Now where was I…something about radar or was it wire guided…damn time to call it a day.