Tag: Warfare

Today’s News in: Rip – Find the Magic Key

Green swatch— Tuma attemps to outwit is his old lover, Llanka, but he reckons without her love for Sumataniki or the wisdom of the years since they last met. —

“You want me to spy for you?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. We were lovers once.”
Llanka laughed sarcastically and grinned at Tuma. She had made her mind up.
“Alright. Where’s this comfortable room you talked about?”
Tuma led her toward the servant’s chamber. On the other side of a heavy door, she heard the unmistakable growl of an Anakuna, the wolf-men that had dogged the history of Peroturnaka.
“They live here now?” she asked Tuma.
“Only one.”
“The leader? The female with the gold earrings?”
“Ha! No. She died centuries ago. A distant descendant. They’re few now and they will soon die out completely. They’re stuck here. Their flying carts – they call them space ships – constantly break down. Anyway, they still help me and soon I won’t even need them. Don’t worry. You’re safe. Here we are.”
Tuma opened a door and watched as she lay upon the luxurious bed. Indeed, her silky hair, when splayed out on the blue pillow reminded him of the Princess, whom he had felt forced to kill. He bitterly rued the day, but sought to sink its memory forever in his kisses upon Llanka’s soft skin.
As he kissed her bared breasts and forced himself into her, Tuma whispered, “Puki! Puki!”
Llanka bit her tongue and stared at the ceiling.

Rip-Find the Magic Key: 2nd longest Western novel at 1 M+ words. Subscribe bit.ly/LazloFerran | Buy Vol 1 bit.ly/ripvol1 | Understand more bit.ly/inforip

Today’s News in: Rip – Find the Magic Key

Green swatch— While Prince Sumataniki recovers in his tent, his wife, Llanka and B’katan’s wife discuss the foolishness of men. —

Llanka began leaving her tent more regularly, and one day, she encountered B’katan’s wife. The two women pulled their panaha’s tight around their shoulders against a chill wind, the first sign of coming winter.
“It’s cold, but refreshing, to feel the wind on our faces Llanka.”
“Yes. I heard that B’katan is recovering too. I’m very happy for you.”
“He has even begun to walk, with the aid of a stick. He’s a very lucky man if a bit of a fool. I told him he’s too old now to play at soldiers. He promised not to go to war again!”
“They are like little boys, aren’t they?”
“You heard what the men are saying? They want Prince Sumataniki to claim the title of King! It’s his right! Then we can go back to Peroturnakar and kick Tuma out!”
“He won’t! I have asked him myself. He says that until Tuma has gone and Peroturnakar rebuilt, he thinks of himself as only a Prince.”
“But while both he and Tuma claim the title of Prince, there will always be war!”
“I know. Such stupidity. Like little boys!”
“Yes.”
B’katan’s wife spoke truthfully. Every Exile wanted Sumataniki to proclaim himself King but he would not do so. Nevertheless, Llanka’s short conversation with another woman had lifted her spirits. She began to hope that the Prince would live, and sure enough, over the next few months, he began to grow stronger.

Rip-Find the Magic Key: 2nd longest Western novel at 1 M+ words. Subscribe bit.ly/LazloFerran | Buy Vol 1 bit.ly/ripvol1 | Understand more bit.ly/inforip

Today’s News in: Rip – Find the Magic Key

Green swatch— Prince Sumataniki holds the top of the hill in a great battle but Quytur is out for his blood. Only B’katan is close enough to defend his prince. —

Sumataniki raised his sword to ward off any blow from Quytur, but when he saw the black barrel of the gun, he almost lost hope. His sword seemed to waver in his hand. He closed his eyes and whispered:
“God help me now!”
B’katan seemed to see everything in slow-motion, despite the rapid gallop of his lamaca. The soldiers fighting around Quytur and Sumataniki were fighting for their lives; they didn’t see how close the titans, the Prince and General, were. B’katan yelled again, “Save the Prince!” and brandished his spear, but to no avail. He watched, horrified, as Quytur raised his gun to fire. At the last moment, B’katan made a decision. He swerved his lamaca and forced it to a desperate lunge with his heels. The poor animal leaped over several bloody corpses and landed in Quytur’s line of fire.
Quytur swore and pulled the trigger again. This time it clicked, and the barrel jerked upward. If it hadn’t, he may well have still hit Sumataniki, but B’katan’s lamaka stumbled on the bloody ground and fell forward. Quytur’s shot slammed into the beast’s neck, bringing from it one, brief bleat, before it fell to its knees and tipped B’katan into the growing pile of bodies.
“Damn you!” Quytur raged, throwing away his gun and drawing his sword. He thrust the blade through B’katan’s back, stepped over the lifeless body and strode up to the Prince with his blade raised for the first blow.

Rip-Find the Magic Key: 2nd longest Western novel at 1 M+ words. Subscribe bit.ly/LazloFerran | Buy Vol 1 bit.ly/ripvol1 | Understand more bit.ly/inforip

How do you get a U-Boat through Gibraltar Straits in 1945?

Did you know the typical U-Boat torpedo was steam-driven and had a range of 12 Km?
Below in this post is an excerpt from my forthcoming book December Radio. This part is where a team of fantatical German nuclear scientists are being smuggled out of German held territory in a U-Boat. But I don’t want to give too much away…

I did have to think very hard about how even a very talented U-Boat captain would get through the Gibraltar Straits. Every trick seems to have been tried in the Hollywood movies like Torpedo Run, The Cruel Sea, and Run Silent, Run Deep. What is more, by 1945 the Royal Navy pretty much owned the Straits and no U-boat had got out through the Straits since 1942. They had got in, but not out.

Some of the usual techniques used are:

1. To fire either oil, debris or even a dead body out of the torpedo tubes so impersonating a stricken U-Boat in the hope that the destroyer above assumed you are sunk
2. To lie on the bottom and keep silent so that the enemy thinks you have gone. Sonar (sea-penetrating radar) was not very good during WWII and could not penetrate to depths beyond about 50-60 fathoms (300-400 feet).
3. To stay underneath the destroyer so that it mistook your sonar signal for its own
4. To use the currents; in WWII it was known that there was a cold-water current flowing out of the Straits and into the Atlantic. This was faster – about 5 knots at shallower depths of around 200 feet but it decreased in speed down to the deepest part of the channel at about 700 feet. Conversely, at shallower depths there was a warm-water current flowing in to the Mediterranean. This would probably have been the predominant current near to the land masses of Spain and Morocco where the depth was at its shallowest.

But I didn’t want to use any of these. The Straits are about 9 miles wide at their narrowest point. During even the late stages of WWII they didn’t have nets across the Straits to catch submarines but they did have patrolling submarines, aircraft, destroyers and plenty of mines. So how does my captain get the U-Boat through the Straits? I am looking for ideas which I can include in the book. Please comment below. The best answer will receive a free eBook of December Radio and a credit when it is published.

December Radio
Copyright © 2013 by Lazlo Ferran
All Rights Reserved.

The U-669 began to drift with the current. There were only small pools of water on the floors now so Carl was able to get his breath back. Fifteen minutes went by. Suddenly the tense silence in the Control Room was broken.
“I have activity,” said the sonar operator. “Bearing two-seventy nine degrees. Far away. At least ten thousand metres. Sounds like depth charges but I can’t be sure. One… two…. three… four… fading. Maybe more.”
“Yes! They fell for it!” Riddaker said, slapping the periscope column. “Helmsman. Hold her steady. How are we doing?”
“Three knots. Eastbound.
“Good. A bit slow though. Hm. Up ten fathoms!”
“Up ten fathoms!” echoed the Helmsman.
“You can go back to your bunk Sturmbannführer. Get some rest. I may need you later. And tell that lazy pilot – whassisname – Stengler to get his ass up here!”
Carl made his way, staggering from side to side, back to his bunk. He found Roth being sick in one of the bilges.
“Captain wants you. I think there’s a bit more water to be drained out,” Carl told Roth.
“Fuck Riddaker! Asshole!” If I have to look at another bucket on this stinking hell-hole of a basket-case crate!”
Carl smiled weakly and continued to his bunk. He had just enough strength to clamber into it before falling into a deep sleep.
He was woken six hours later by Roth. The short pilot handed him a black coffee.
“Now it’s your bloody turn.” Roth rested his head on the edge of Carl’s bunk. Carl could see Roth was breathing hard. Carl patted him on the shoulder. He sipped the coffee.
“Hey. Is this real coffee?”
“Yeah… Oh, by the way, the bloody Royal Navy figured out Riddaker’s trick. They are on to us. Expect some action.
“Thanks.”
Carl picked up the bucket dropped by Roth in the Control Room just as the explosion rocked the U-Boat.
“Enemy approached from astern. Estimated 34 knots, distance 1000 metres.”
“How deep is it here First Watch?”
The Lieutenant studied the char on a table.
“Forty fathoms. No more.”
“Damn! They will have us. Engines. Full power. Full ahead. Starboard twenty.
“But that will take us right into the central channel!” exclaimed the First Watch.”
“We have to make a run for it. It’s deeper there,” Riddaker replied pensively.
The Lieutenant, second in command on the submarine, hesitated for a moment before issuing the order.
“Full power – estimated eight knots,” the Helmsman replied.
“Down twenty!” commanded Riddaker.
“Down bubble. Twenty degrees.”
Carl hadn’t seen Schumann arrive but he was standing just inside the hatch of the Control Room. The scientist looked angry.
“I think you have a problem Captain!” he shouted at Riddaker.
“What is it Herr Schumann. I’m rather busy!”
“Hoffe is very ill. Fumes from the battery compartment. I think you have a leak.”
“Yes, well we’ll worry about that later.”
“And what’s in the central channel anyway? Do you realise those crates could be damaged?”
“Subs. The British have at least three submarines patrolling there. Still, it’s our best chance.”
“Well, I hope we make it or else your name is not going to be worth as much as your shirt button, let alone a medal in the Reich!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get us through!” Riddaker looked like he had eaten something bad. Clearly the two men didn’t like each other.
Another explosion, this time much closer, rocked the submarine. Carl was thrown from his feet and water began rushing in through cracks in the submarine’s outer casing. Carl began bailing. Another, then yet another, explosion rocked the submarine.
“Lucky bastards!” Riddaker yelled.
The red lights went out for a few moments before the emergency power bus kicked in and they flickered back into life. Six more explosions followed before the submarine was beyond the reach of the depth charges.
By now everything was wet and the sound of moaning and women screaming echoed around the stricken submarine.
“God help us!” muttered Riddaker. “I can’t think! Can somebody shut those damned women up! And the men too for that matter! And get these leaks plugged! Level out. Hold at sixty fathoms.”

I have invited the writer of this blog to do a post next week: http://lifelongexplorer.blogspot.co.uk