View Full Version : Noob Patrol 8 (Rise of Captain No Pants)

06-24-2005, 12:40 PM
~A lone U-Boat Captain fighting a battle of wits in the Atlantic€¦completely unarmed

Taken from the personal War Diary (Kriegstagebuch) of Captain J. Smitlack

Shore Leave
April 7, 1940 €" May 4, 1940
Ah now that is the correct length of a proper shore leave. I only wish I could remember half of it, not all of it just half. What I do have is a hazy hodgepodge of blurry images. Waking up in a pool of my own vomit, chicken pot pies I think it was, clutching a dirty dish rag to my chest with no clothes on crying about how unfair life is. Then more blurriness then reporting in at Wilhelmshaven, which seems almost like a homecoming. That is a shore leave worth repeating. I think.

I request that my entire crew be reassigned and that my sister€s rather large collection of stuffed animals be recruited into the Kriegsmarine and assigned to my boat. Donitz, after much consideration, turns the idea down. At first I can not believe the man€s ignorance and then it occurs to me that the stuffed animals are all in Berlin and would not be able to make it to Wilhelmshaven in time. I draft a letter to my sister to send the collection by rail first class especially my favorite, an orangutan named Mr. Bobo. Then I head down to the docks.

We are assigned to grid AN-62. My word a different patrol grid, U-boat command must have made a mistake. Or are they out to get me? I ponder this for several hours while watching the boat finish getting fitted out for her patrol.

The torpedo load out is changed. I decide to load three T-I€s and decide to give the electric T-II€s another shot by loading two of them. If the T-II€s don€t work this time I€m swearing off using torpedoes and my crew will got to sea with nothing but a rusty butter knife and a bad attitude. We are once again sailing without a First Officer. I consider pouting about it but the last time I did Donitz secretary laughed at me.

May 5, 1940

Some brass down from Kiel show up and give us a proper send off. The serve us a grand breakfast fit for kings; eggs, bacon, sausage, toast with various jellies and gourmet coffee. I make a pig of myself eating everything in sight.

07:36 I order ahead slow and U-1 pulls away from the pier at Wilhelmshaven. Our usual departure crowd and groupies have thinned a bit but there are still some diehard U-boat fans. The roll of the inlet makes me sick and with the band playing I lean over the conning tower and toss my cookies€¦actually it was eggs, bacon, sausage, toast with various jellies, gourmet coffee and something I found on the dining room floor. While wiping the vomit off my mouth I give a shout to Admiral Donitz on the pier.

€œThanks for breakfast!€ After which I proceed to throw up again.

As we leave the harbor a flock of seagulls show up and begin circling the boat. A formation of three gulls swing through the unorganized mass and catches my eye. I watch an aerial ballet as the birds twist and turn through the air with grace and precision; all at once the peel off from the rest and swoop down on U-1 heading straight for me. At the last possible moment the pull up and drop their payload. I am covered from the waist down in their leavings. The birds squawk and climb gaining altitude. Well-played Sir fowl€¦well played indeed.

I order the light flak gun manned and head down below to change pants. As I leave the watchtower I hear the Watch Officer laughing. I wash the pants out in our fresh water supply and hang them up to dry as I hear the flak gun open up on the birds. Take that Sir Fowl. I pull a clean pair of pants out of my sea bag and lay them on my bunk. I hit the head with the Watch Officer€s copy of Mein Kampf (my struggle) under my arm and have a little struggle of my own when I engage in a little hand-to-gland combat. When I come back my sea bag is gone and so are my pants, both pair. The sea bag had everything in it including the camera. The only thing I had left on board beside the clothes on my back was a book, a biography, I had pulled out of the bag before I went topside and got dive-bombed by some seagulls. The Biography was titled; Trails in the Sand by Peter Dragon. It€s a pretty good story about a clown who is happy on the outside, sad on the inside and also has a severe case of diarrhea. My eye starts to twitch.

I have the crew search the entire boat bow to stern but there is no trace of either the bag or my pants. Some joker on the crew must have thrown them overboard. Too bad we don€t have a First Officer so I could blame him and throw him overboard.

May 6, 1940

A light fog rolls in that looks like a ghostly blanket against the horizon. I climb up into the watchtower in the early morning hours. The sea is calm. I scan the ocean with my binoculars. There are only two thoughts on my mind. I€m glad it€s not December and where are my pants? I catch a number of the watch crew starring at me out of the corner of their eye. I ignore them and try to watch the ocean for a trace of my possessions.

16:06 U-1 arrives at AN62 and begins her patrol. We did not spot a single thing on the way out here. AN 62 is closer to Wilhelmshaven then our last few patrol grids so I€m not expecting much traffic.

18:34 The wind picks up and I can tell a storm is on the way. I head down to my bunk.

22:02 While laying in my bunk reading my book I become aware that my eye is twitching. I am not sure how long this has been going on. I close the book and begin to rub my eyes. I lay back and that is when I notice that there seems to be a pattern to the twitching. I lay still for several minutes while my eye continues twitching. I begin to pick out a pattern in the twitching, a pattern of long and short twitches.

..- .---- -.. --- --- -- . -.. .- -. -€¦ ..--- -.. . .- - €¦. - --- -.-. .- .--. - .-.. -. -. --- .--. .- -. - €¦

after which it repeats over and over. There is something familiar about it. I walk to the charting table and begin to write down the twitches as a series of dashes and dots. I€m halfway through the string when I realize it is Morse Code. I begin transcribing a terrifying message by the light of a single bulb on the charting table.

..-U .---1 -..D ---O ---O €"M .E -..D .-A -.N -€¦.6 ..---2 -..D .E .-A €"T €¦.H

-T ---O -.-.C .-A .--.P €"T .-A ..I -.N -.N ---O .--.P .-A -.N €"T €¦S


The message I am receiving through my eye twitching repeats over and over. I send out an emergency message to U-boat command expressing the evil foreboding of the message. At the chief€s insistence I do not report how I received the message only that we intercepted it. I also leave out the Captain no pants part of the message. The chief chokes down a laugh and tries to deny it by saying he has a frog in his throat. The message is sent. I wait frantically for some word back from U-boat command. Sometime before midnight I fall into a fitful sleep. U-1 continues to plow through the night splitting the water with her bow before it the sea tumbles and twists behind the boat. If only it could do that to my fears.

May 7, 1940

Heavy fog and heavy rains hit the boat. The boat rolls to port and starboard in the storm threatening to capsize as it climbs and falls through the fifteen-foot swells. I wait anxiously all day for a radio from U-boat Command that does not come.

We complete our patrol of AN-62 on the western edge of the zone. We have not seen another soul on the rough seas. I only hope that no one has seen us. I decide to head west rather than tempt fate and cross AN62 again. I plot a course toward Hartlepool. Late last year the port was completely empty. I think we will be able to hide there and await further orders. The fog is so thick and I am so worried about getting run over by a destroyer or another boat that I almost forget I have no pants on. I am reluctant to dive because submerged we might miss the radio transmission from command.

23:24 The weather is worsening I have no choice message or no message we have to get out of this weather. I order a dive. With the weather this bad we could be right on a convoy escort and would be on our way to the bottom the fast way before we even knew what had happened.

May 8, 1940

05:27 I order U-1 to surface. The weather has improved a bit but is still with us as we press on. We really do not have much choice our batteries are almost dead and we have to ventilate the boat, in more than one-way. I curse out the cook for putting cabbage and baloney on the menu for the same meal. We need to space that stuff out I tell him.

15:27 We receive a radio message. It is encoded with Enigma. I take the message from the radio shack and pull out our Enigma; I set the turning drums and double check the peephole settings before I start. I transcribe the message meticulously one letter at a time as the lights pop up on the Enigma panel.

After two and a half hours of tedious work I have the message. I hold it up to the bare bulb over the chart table.


€œOvlatine?€ I mutter. €œSon-of-a-B----€

May 9, 1940

01:42 The storm lifts during the night and through broken clouds we can see the stars.

12:41 The watch spots a warship on the horizon. I order us to P-depth and continue on.

The ship is moving fast and away from us. I could not identify it and it slips from view. We stay submerged.

16:06 After a while running submerged I surface the boat.

17:05 The watch spots a C class destroyer. I order a crash dive to periscope depth. There is still good light. When I was last in port I read a pamphlet on torpedo attack strategy while I was waiting at the VD clinic. I decide to fire one of the electric T-II€s with the magnetic trigger set to one meter below the keel. Because it is still light out a T-I would leave a wake that would point right back at us. They are better for night attacks in rough seas. The T-II will be harder to spot because it does not leave a wake of bubbles. I open tube 3.

17:35 The C class steams away. I close tube 3 and stay submerged.

18:48 The hydrophone operator calls me. High speed screws approaching. I raise the periscope the C Class reappears steaming towards us. I plot a parallel course and ready the type II again.

19:48 we close to within 1400 meters and I open tube three, re-check my settings, say a silent prater and fire.

19:50 The T-II slides under the keel of the C class and explodes taking her down with an explosion that travels the length of the deck. Beautiful.

19:54 Secure from silent running reload tube 3 with a T-II and we continue on towards Hartlepool.

23:10 Edging still closer to the harbor the hydrophone operator picks up a merchant. I confirm with the periscope she€s a C-2 sliding past our stern. I let her go, drop the scope and press on.

May 9, 1940

00:27 I order the boat to the surface. We are getting close to Hartlepool do not want to be caught in the day light on the surface. U-1 vents and starts recharging her batteries. The sea is starting to roll again and I have the sinking suspicion that another storm is rolling in.

05:48 The watch spots a Hunt I off the starboard side in light fog. I order the boat to Periscope depth and rig for silent running we slip past the destroyer undetected.

Intermittent sound contacts all the way in to Hartlepool we stay submerged at silent running slow ahead. With the destroyer far behind us we surface in the late afternoon.

20:24 At the harbor entrance the watch spots a lone tugboat making a sweep of the area. The sea is rolling but the sky is clear a large moon hangs over the harbor reflecting off the water.

€œTake the tug out with a torpedo,€ someone whispers in my ear causing me to jump. I turn and find only the watch officer scanning his area of responsibility.

€œPssst Captain No Pants up here.€ I look up into the face of the moon. The face of the moon smiles down at me. €œA single torp will take care of that tug.€ The moon winks down at me as if to say he€ll be my first officer. A feeling of comfort and warmth, despite the fact I€m standing half naked on the deck, sweeps through my nether region.

€œOpen tube one.€ I order. The moon smiles down and nods approvingly.

€œBut sir it€s just a tug we can slip past it.€ The Watch Officer protests.

€œThe moon told me to sink the tug. Open tube one.€ I repeat. The Watch Officer backs away a concerned look in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something to me but instead leans into the speaking tube to give the order.

€œIf he€s not with us he€s against us. KILL HIM!€ The Moon orders. €œUse your good friend Mr. Hunk O€ Rusty Pipe.€ The moon suggests helpfully.

€œI€m not carrying a€¦€ The words die in my mouth as I look down at the hunk of rusty pipe in my hand.

From down below the muffled sound of BINK €" BOINK €" BING -- BONK€¦€AHHHHHHH!!!€ SPLASH reaches the crew.

€œWhat was that sir?€ Comes through the speaking tube.

€œAh€¦ nothing€¦ ah the first Watch Officer fell over board€¦.the Moon DID not order me to kill him€¦.uh carry on.€ I shake my head in the moon light.

€œIt sounded like you said the Moon did not tell you to kill him? I must have misheard because that€s ridiculous € Comes up from below.

€œRidiculous huh? If the Moon tells me to I€ll kill you€¦ I€LL KILL YOU ALL!€ I scream into the speaking tube.

€œWhat was that?€


A short time later I send the fish swimming. A geyser of water obscures the tugboat completely as the torpedo explodes. When the water subsides there is no trace of the boat only empty ocean. A moment later the tug shoots to the surface like a rocket her decks awash in fire. The boat is heading towards us, directly towards us, stern first. I order hard to port then hard to starboard and the burning hulk hurtles past U-1 without touching her. Just astern of us she slips beneath the waves.

€œAhh. You don€t see that everyday.€ I turn around and moon the moon. For the next twenty minutes we have a running argument. I blame him for endangering the crew and the boat. I slide behind the flak gun and open fire on the moon. The moon makes a run for the horizon and makes it.

€œI€ll get you tomorrow night in the eastern sky!€ I scream a hoarse shout at the retreating moon.

20:46 U-1 slips into Hartlepool and moves along the docks like a death ship stalking its victim. The harbor is full this time. We pass several small merchant ships and a C-2. In the last dock is our prize a T-2 tanker. A vision of a tower of fire igniting the docks plays through my mind as I line up for my shot. I€m sure this will only take one torp and then we can hunt for more prey with the other two. I fire one of the T-I€s, it streaks across the harbor and detonates in a shower of spray under the tanker. Nothing. A few flames lick the edge of the deck.

I fire the second T-I and get another geyser of water that puts out the fire on the deck of the tanker. I fire the third torp the final torp the T-II she runs true and detonates under the tanker. A large fire breaks out. We watch the ship for three hours waiting for the explosion€¦ nothing.

I pull in close and hurl the rest of the light flak gun ammo at the burning tanker along with some choice swear words.

We pull out of Hartlepool an hour later the tanker still burning. I come to realize that I probably should have slammed the eels into her side instead of beneath her keel. I also come to realize that just because it was a tanker does not mean that it was a full tanker.

We steam for home. I retire to my bunk.

That night I have a dream about an incident that occurred when I was in college. I was on my way back to the dorm when I found my roommate without a stitch of clothing on covered in peanut butter and jelly running around the quad asking people if they wanted a sandwich. He had cracked under the pressure.

€œWho has the rye bread?! Who has the rye bread?!€ was the last thing that he screamed as they led him away. I awake with it echoing in my mind. I think I might be losing my sanity. Then again it might just be a passing fad kind of thing. I€m sure it will clear up.

May 10, 1940

We arrive back in Wilhelmshaven well after the sun has set. I hear the moon laughing at me and stay below until the next morning when I report. I am awarded the knights cross, to replace the one that was stolen. I stand in Donitz€s office my eye twitching. Something large with huge fangs and leathery wings swoops down from the ceiling. I put two rounds from my Lugar into the ceiling before I realize there is nothing there. A shaken Donitz climbs out from under his desk and tells me to have a nice leave and seek some psychiatric help, he amends the €˜some€ to €˜a lot€ of psychiatric help. My eye and shoulder twitching I walk out muttering about the moon, a conspiracy theory about the British sending me personal radio signals and making the next patrol pants optional.

Donitz€s secretary takes one look at my bare bottom and starts laughing. I respond back Yeeet! Before mustering up the tattered shreds of my dignity and walking out the door.


Thanks to all you who read and respond, or just read€¦ or just respond to the diary of Captain J. Smitlack. Sorry no pics this patrol. I have installed the 1.4b patch and have had some interesting issues arise, one of which was that none of the pics showed up where they should have after the patrol. I'm sure it is just how I have my current system configured. I should have some time to sort it out soon. Maybe Smitlack will buy another camera. Have a great weekend everybody.

06-24-2005, 01:14 PM
Great stuff
If it wasn't for this I wouldn't make it through my days at a law office!

06-24-2005, 01:16 PM
Another Brilliant comical episode http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/25.gif


€œOvlatine?€ I mutter. €œSon-of-a-B----€"

ROFLMAO...my favorite movie (next to Monty Python's the Holy Grail)!!!!

Keep'em comming!

06-24-2005, 01:18 PM
Originally posted by semperfi2005:
Great stuff
If it wasn't for this I wouldn't make it through my days at a law office!

I know what you mean... My day as a US Navy cost analyst arent exactly filled with joy and excitement!!! I was actually checking this forum every hour or so to see when Smitlack would return http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/88.gif

06-24-2005, 01:37 PM
LMAOROF http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/88.gif... this is great stuff. Sure breaks up the day. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-very-happy.gif

Psychfilm, don't let them repaint your sub..... you might end up with a pink one.

BTW... yer just lucky those seagull bomblets didn't hit you in the head. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-wink.gif

06-24-2005, 02:32 PM
great stuff, Psychfilm, thanks http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_biggrin.gif

have a good weekend too! and keep em coming http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

06-24-2005, 02:45 PM
Dear mum,
I have just returned from Mexico with my buddies Jose and Jesus. Seems that we left a little early and missed the Cinco De Mayo celebration. But, never ones to miss a party we fly towards a flock of seagulls circling what appears to be another one of those giant, human eating, fish I wrote you about last time. I still miss Steven.

We dive in to the flock to socialize, and I see that same white-hatted human that killed Steven. They say that the early bird gets the worm and, while I personally don€t care for worms myself, Jose and Jesus both seem to take great pleasure at getting them out of the bottom of the bottle.

We keep our distance while trying not to look like we are keeping our distance. We fly casual. Jesus and Jose both tighten their bandanas on their heads. Joses seems a little low, but I figure he has his reasons.

As we pass the rear of the fish, the white-hatter seems to be feeding his young, although I don€t see any below him. Range is about 50 meters as the crow flies, but he is going the other way, so we dive on the white hatter from the east.

Jesus and Jose are on my wing. The opening to the back of the fish and the white-hatter is only about 2 meters wide.

€œStay on target. Almost there. HITS AWAY!€

Jesus, Jose, and I unload on the white-hatter. Burritos, Tacos, Tequila, oh my!

€œIt€s a hit!€ yells Jose. How can he observe anything with that bandana on his head

€œNo, negative, it€s just a pecking on the surface.€ I reply. While we did hit the white-hatter, we mainly only got his legs. €œClimb and prepare for another run.€

White-hatter disappears. We lost him in the sun as we were climbing to eat some bean burritos and drink some Corona.

Jose adjusts his bandana again and suddenly dives. He screams that he sees the white-hatter but all I see is the humans around the fire-spitter. Coming in low over the water from the west, eyes glinting from under his bandana he attacks.

Fearing for his life I yell, €œJose can you see by the dawn€s early light€¦€ but I€m too late. Blinded by the sun, or maybe it was his bandana, he is gone in a cloud of feathers and fire.

Jesus dives to save his friend and is nailed by the cross-fire. His wing is broken and he crashes in to the water. Unable to fly, he tries to walk, but fails and sinks, turning the sea red as wine.

€œHappy Cinco-De-Mayo my friends. You will be avenged!€

I hope to have good news next time mum.
-Roger Seagull

Yen Lo
06-24-2005, 10:41 PM
good job bud this one was one of the funniest. They need to volunteer this guy for one of those Raiders of the Lost Ark Nazi cruises so he have a break from all the action.

06-25-2005, 07:37 AM
I climb up into the watchtower in the early morning hours. The sea is calm. I scan the ocean with my binoculars. There are only two thoughts on my mind. I€m glad it€s not December and where are my pants?

BAHAHAHAAAAAAA! http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/88.gif

I almost fell over when i read the part when he left port and that little interlude i quoted!