#1 A bout of raving madness presented entirely without context
Posted: Sun Nov 10, 2013 2:59 am
From the journal of L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie Lt. Hans Sauerkraut:
This is a submarine?!
Above: U-53
I always knew the Germans to be insane, but this is really too much. This is what they propose to use to win their war? No Olympic standard ballroom, no orchestra pit, no redundant wine cellars, how does anyone survive a single voyage in something like this? Nowhere to tether a tyrannosaur, nowhere to bowl, no accordian storage... bah, I cannot continue or I shall go mad. Germans must truly lack all culture to put up with such conditions.
But the space is not the biggest problem. The biggest problem is the useless excuse for a deck gun they have on this terrible thing. Where my countrymen installed booming cannons capable of rending ships in half at a salvo, the Germans make do with a spitball gun, one that could only sink a ship if the ship was kind enough to collide with an iceberg while evading it. No wonder they invented these little torpedo things, if their guns were so inadequate. I admit they are useful, but they lack the artistry that cannonades offer.
Still, one makes the best of things. I have begun whipping the crew into proper military shape through a careful regimen of line-marching drill (not the easiest thing to do in a toy submarine) supplemented by lessons in fencing, wig powdering, and tricorne hat upkeep. As the ship was criminally unprovided with an orchestra, I have organized one ad-hoc from among our crew. One of our stern torpedomen has proven a fair flautist, and one of the bow ones is serviceable with the pipe organ I forced the dockyard crew to install up the side of the conning tower. Other volunteers brought bagpipes (I always thought the English called them musical instruments out of some private joke), a double bass, and one of them simply screams gibberish and beats the hull with a claw hammer. I shall signal to Lt. De Sade to see if he can compose anything with this jumble. Preferably with less sodomy than the last piece.
Our first cruise was profitable, if filled with incompetence at every level. My first officer actually outranked me for this voyage, a piece of insufferable effrontery which I was tempted to punish by firing shells through the windows of the dockyard administration. The man himself looks vaguely suspicious, and I begin to wonder if he was not sent by the SS or someone similar to watch for spies. I shall keep an eye on him...
The voyage itself was plagued with bad weather and worse mistakes. Our lookouts were distracted by the storm and discovered only too late a destroyer from perfidious Albion descending upon us. Had this been a proper submarine, we would have blasted them to matchsticks with our 8 inch cannons, but instead we were trapped in this barely-floating bathtub, and had no choice but to run and hide. Even this I might have countenanced, had one of our dive officers not made an error in calculation and CENSORED.
Above: U-53, moments before colliding with the seafloor ABSOLUTELY NOTHING SPECIAL HAPPENED.
Despite this mistake, we did manage to find prey to the north of Scotland, and paid the British back for having led us to this terrible situation. As my France has no need of erstwhile "allies" such as Chamberlain, I see nothing wrong with sending a number of their vessels to the bottom of the ocean to be picked over by CENSORED for anything valuable they might have in the way of cargo or crew. Every ton of goods or additional piece of scrap metal we acquire will better prepare us for la revanche, and given that the British are the ones who left me in this state, it is proper that they pay the price. And if such exploits convince the Germans that I am to be trusted with bigger responsibilities, then so be it.
We killed some 20,000 tons of shipping before expending our weapons, and returned to dock at length. My promotion was waiting for me on land, as the German admiralty appears to have taken my essay on the optimal firing position for a ship that purposed to discharge ordinance through the Grand Admiral's bedroom window in the spirit with which it was meant. A number of decorations were provided by the admiralty, and I distributed them to a lookout and several other crew. I insisted however that anyone who desired to receive one first prove capable of singing La Marseillaise in the original French. I think they believed my story about it being an excellent means of vocal strengthening, something vital to submarine operations. Next cruise I will insist on orchestral accompaniment, as well as see to replacing these drab Kreigsmarine uniforms with something proper for modern military use. I shall begin with red pantaloons of course.
Above: The foundation of any proper military.
I still do not understand how we are expected to wage war in iron toys such as these, but I suppose we shall see what transpires as we proceed. The admiralty offered me some form of "hydrophone", which I have rejected as typical Teutonic nonsense. Why in the world would I wish to converse with the water? We shall defeat our enemies with the guns of the ship, as men do, for I know without question that all these silly notions of "torpedoes" and "aircraft" are merely foppish fads soon to fade before the true queen of the battlefield. Within a year, I predict with confidence that we will see no more such things.
At any rate, whatever the U-53's failings (who names a ship in this way? We will need a proper name for her soon enough. I suppose "Peuple Souvrain" would be too obvious though), we have met the enemy and beaten him, and likely will do so again. I go now to see the procurements officer about the wholly inadequate escargot and wine ration provided on this ship, and ensure that next time, we are properly supplied.
They suspect nothing, these Germans, and soon, they will reap what they have sown...
This is a submarine?!
Above: U-53
I always knew the Germans to be insane, but this is really too much. This is what they propose to use to win their war? No Olympic standard ballroom, no orchestra pit, no redundant wine cellars, how does anyone survive a single voyage in something like this? Nowhere to tether a tyrannosaur, nowhere to bowl, no accordian storage... bah, I cannot continue or I shall go mad. Germans must truly lack all culture to put up with such conditions.
But the space is not the biggest problem. The biggest problem is the useless excuse for a deck gun they have on this terrible thing. Where my countrymen installed booming cannons capable of rending ships in half at a salvo, the Germans make do with a spitball gun, one that could only sink a ship if the ship was kind enough to collide with an iceberg while evading it. No wonder they invented these little torpedo things, if their guns were so inadequate. I admit they are useful, but they lack the artistry that cannonades offer.
Still, one makes the best of things. I have begun whipping the crew into proper military shape through a careful regimen of line-marching drill (not the easiest thing to do in a toy submarine) supplemented by lessons in fencing, wig powdering, and tricorne hat upkeep. As the ship was criminally unprovided with an orchestra, I have organized one ad-hoc from among our crew. One of our stern torpedomen has proven a fair flautist, and one of the bow ones is serviceable with the pipe organ I forced the dockyard crew to install up the side of the conning tower. Other volunteers brought bagpipes (I always thought the English called them musical instruments out of some private joke), a double bass, and one of them simply screams gibberish and beats the hull with a claw hammer. I shall signal to Lt. De Sade to see if he can compose anything with this jumble. Preferably with less sodomy than the last piece.
Our first cruise was profitable, if filled with incompetence at every level. My first officer actually outranked me for this voyage, a piece of insufferable effrontery which I was tempted to punish by firing shells through the windows of the dockyard administration. The man himself looks vaguely suspicious, and I begin to wonder if he was not sent by the SS or someone similar to watch for spies. I shall keep an eye on him...
The voyage itself was plagued with bad weather and worse mistakes. Our lookouts were distracted by the storm and discovered only too late a destroyer from perfidious Albion descending upon us. Had this been a proper submarine, we would have blasted them to matchsticks with our 8 inch cannons, but instead we were trapped in this barely-floating bathtub, and had no choice but to run and hide. Even this I might have countenanced, had one of our dive officers not made an error in calculation and CENSORED.
Above: U-53, moments before colliding with the seafloor ABSOLUTELY NOTHING SPECIAL HAPPENED.
Despite this mistake, we did manage to find prey to the north of Scotland, and paid the British back for having led us to this terrible situation. As my France has no need of erstwhile "allies" such as Chamberlain, I see nothing wrong with sending a number of their vessels to the bottom of the ocean to be picked over by CENSORED for anything valuable they might have in the way of cargo or crew. Every ton of goods or additional piece of scrap metal we acquire will better prepare us for la revanche, and given that the British are the ones who left me in this state, it is proper that they pay the price. And if such exploits convince the Germans that I am to be trusted with bigger responsibilities, then so be it.
We killed some 20,000 tons of shipping before expending our weapons, and returned to dock at length. My promotion was waiting for me on land, as the German admiralty appears to have taken my essay on the optimal firing position for a ship that purposed to discharge ordinance through the Grand Admiral's bedroom window in the spirit with which it was meant. A number of decorations were provided by the admiralty, and I distributed them to a lookout and several other crew. I insisted however that anyone who desired to receive one first prove capable of singing La Marseillaise in the original French. I think they believed my story about it being an excellent means of vocal strengthening, something vital to submarine operations. Next cruise I will insist on orchestral accompaniment, as well as see to replacing these drab Kreigsmarine uniforms with something proper for modern military use. I shall begin with red pantaloons of course.
Above: The foundation of any proper military.
I still do not understand how we are expected to wage war in iron toys such as these, but I suppose we shall see what transpires as we proceed. The admiralty offered me some form of "hydrophone", which I have rejected as typical Teutonic nonsense. Why in the world would I wish to converse with the water? We shall defeat our enemies with the guns of the ship, as men do, for I know without question that all these silly notions of "torpedoes" and "aircraft" are merely foppish fads soon to fade before the true queen of the battlefield. Within a year, I predict with confidence that we will see no more such things.
At any rate, whatever the U-53's failings (who names a ship in this way? We will need a proper name for her soon enough. I suppose "Peuple Souvrain" would be too obvious though), we have met the enemy and beaten him, and likely will do so again. I go now to see the procurements officer about the wholly inadequate escargot and wine ration provided on this ship, and ensure that next time, we are properly supplied.
They suspect nothing, these Germans, and soon, they will reap what they have sown...
C'EST ABSOLUMENT INSUPPORTABLE! QUELLE PUTAIN DE MERDE OSE M'INSULTER D'UN TEL MANIERE!? JE VAIS L'ECRASER AVEC MES MARINIERS MORTS-VIVANTS! QUAND J'AURAIS FINIS, IL SERA PORTIERE DES LAVABOS AUXILLIERES POUR L'ETERNITE!!!!
