Author Notes:
So, new RM chapter is up, and it's yet another doozy... But first, and important PSA for newcomers and oldies alike
Dear loyal readers, supporters, and Patrons. On behalf of my mother, I sincerely thank you all of you for the constant wonderful support for my two fanfics/stories. You all have no idea how much this meant for the both of us. Nonetheless, recent events have made it so that I can't ignore this illogical failing of the relationship between Patreon and the iOS platform, and by extension Apple.
For those who don't know, payments made to Patr-eon through the iOS/Apple platform will be witheld from the Content Creators by iOS/Apple for 75 days! That is 75 days too long for anyone that is depending on Patreon for a living, and trust me, it's not just me who is having their heart being torn apart by this stupid and overdrawn process. I have communicated with a few other Creators, and they reported the same, quite frankly letting a man to die of thirst trouble. Worst, iOS/Apple forced Patrons to pay for a much higher price than the Web or Android version of Patreon. In other words, Patrons will be overcharged when using Patr-eon iOS/Apple.
In short, Patrons pay stupid money for the same benefits offered on other Patreon platform, and the Creators have to wait ages for a money that may as well arrive after they're dead. For me and my Mom in particular, this is in no shape or form sustainable for both the Creators and Patrons. Creators like me can't plan our lives over a salary that is so deep in the flux as iOS/Apple only release the Patrons' donation after 75 days. So, to quote my Mom's words:
Please don't waste your hard earn money on iOS/Apple Patre-on, it's best if you don't even bother going through that particular platform at all. We don't want you to be severely affected by a platform that is so money hungry that they take from both the Creators and the Patrons. If you can help us by going above and beyond using the other Pa-treon platforms, then we will be forever grateful. But for the love of everything that's holy, don't let your hard works being vandalized by iOS/Apple!
Thank you for reading this far in, everyone. And my apologies for holding you off from enjoying the story. This is a blanket PSA that I will be showing on the RM side of things as well.
Peace be with you all.
Battle of Mers-el-Kébir Phase 3: https://postimg.cc/75n8wkD9
Marshal Yuki: https://postimg.cc/5H9ctR2V
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It's considered the gentlemanly way to stay and rescue the survivors of the transport ships that a submarine crew sank whenever possible. However, there's a certain emphasis on the 'whenever possible'part, as the time-sensitive nature of an operation sometimes prevents submarines from rendering aid, much like now. The submarine flotilla led by the Surcouf can only linger at the site for a brief moment after sinking the Erusean Troop Convoy. The four submarine crews swiftly dispense the necessary materials to keep the Erusean survivors afloat before relocating elsewhere, not even bothering to secure any Prisoners of War. Some of the Eruseans try to shout or curse at the submarines that sank and abandoned them, but if they truly want to live, then it's best to scamper for the additional life rafts the Ustians left behind.
After bypassing the sunken convoy for some nautical miles, Surcouf's Flotilla heads northward, remaining surfaced for the best of speed. They then make an Eastern cut to an area where Force H was first sighted and remain there, keeping the escape vector to Gibraltar on complete lockdown as the crews are allowed to celebrate their prior victories in a moderate manner. Kill tallies are also calculated to the best of their ability, and it will be in the morning when they will be painted on the conning tower of the submarines. While stationary, the Surcouf-class cruiser submarines also guide the autogyros, using handheld flares and searchlights to aid the final landing approach. It's a risky endeavor, performing a night landing out in the open sea, and one autogyro nearly flipped over when a gust of wind battered it from the side. Thankfully, both airframes landed safely, further adding to the high morale of the submarine crews. After all, it's thanks to them that the submarines could have scored some impressive hits in the dark of the night. That said, they will be tempting fate if they launch the autogyros again now that the winds are picking up. If they are to engage something else, it will be up to other surface combatants to help light the sky with star shells.
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"Admiral, shouldn't we pursue them alongside Task Force Jean Bart?" Admiral Gensoul's second-in-command asks, his eyes scanning the Northwestern horizon that is regularly lit up by either star shells or cannon blasts.
Admiral Gensoul, however, only spared the view a glance before looking down at the recently updated battle chart of the local sea region, and the tools he used to illustrate the anticipated heading of Force H can be seen resting neatly by the side. "Let the Rear Admiral have his accolades, old friend. If we join in, we will prevent the rise of someone worthwhile."
Admiral Gensoul stops for a bit, his eyes rest on the red pin on the battle chart that is Force H.
"And if we are to intervene, we risk making our opponent a cornered rat, a rat that will bite back and ruin the crisp white sheet we have oh so carefully laid out for them. No, we hang back, just slightly out of sight but close enough to join the fray when we have to. Let our enemy be drowned in the illusion that they can escape, only for them to be dancing to our tune. When the time arrives, not a single Erusean vessel will find itself able to leave. And we, we will emerge in full, glorious splendor. Our new Queen of Ustio will then be presented with perhaps the greatest physical gift anyone could have ever given her."
There's a certain confidence, or even arrogance, in the Ustian Admiral's tone that convinces not just his XO but also those in the conning tower of the Richelieu that, indeed, the total destruction of their enemy at no loss of their own is a glorious deed.
"Contact our bombers, tell them the appointed time is near." Admiral Gensoul says, his eyes looking at the red pin that is being encircled by Task Force Jean Bart and its detached Flotilla, led by the destroyer Mogador, from the North. "By the time the enemy commanding officer realizes his one, critical mistake, it will be too late to escape from the net."
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"She's taken enough damage!" The aide of one Captain Jean Michel, shouts the report. "She's sinking!"
After an intense exchange between the two navies' destroyer formations, yet another kill is given to the Ustian side. Another Erusean destroyer is now bound to have dinner with the fishes. This time around, however, it's a kill that can be said to belong solely to the Mogador.
Before its demise, that lone Erusean destroyer had foolishly split away from its formation and wandered much too close to the raring guns of the Mogador. At only a few kilometers apart, the Mogador took no time at all to direct all of her 139 mm guns and started blasting the crickety old Erusean destroyer apart. Although the shells of the Mogador's guns are heavier than her opposition's, her assisted reload mechanism allowed the Ustian destroyer to overwhelm the Erusean destroyer from the get-go, accuracy be damn. By the time the enemy destroyer was completely engulfed in flame, the Mogador only took a minor hit to her stern. This also denounces just how inadequate the Eruseans are in this night battle setting. Their aging warships lack the same modern rangefinders and targeting systems the Ustian vessels bring to bear.
"Captain!" Michel's aide gives another report. "We will once again get into torpedo range soon."
"I know." The Mogador's Commander replies, a hand is placed on his cap to prevent it from being blown away by the increasingly worse wind conditions. "Damn, these winds are annoying! Once again, hold off on launching our fish early! We can still make a couple of turns before the bombers arrive. That's our time to strike, or else the Admiral will have our heads! Now, port, ten degrees! This peak-a-boo business needs to be repeated until we're given the clear!"
"Aye aye, Captain! Port, ten degrees!"
As the powerful, contemporary era destroyer tilts in the opposite direction of where it's turning, a large shell slams into the part of the ocean where the Mogador could have been had Captain Michel not given the order to adjust heading. Although the Mogador's Captain raises his arms to shield himself, a large amount of seawater still soaks the man and whoever that are outside of the tower from head to toe.
"That was a bit too close for comfort, damn it!" Captain Michel spits out the seawater that gets into his mouth before patting his cap clear of whatever's on it. He then stubbornly stays in the open despite the real risk of shells and fragmentation.
"Sir, perhaps you should relocate back inside." The aide suggests while using a hand to swipe away a piece of crap that remains stuck to Captain Michel's epaullette.
"I can't see for shit in that tower, at this time of the night." Michel replies before holding up his binoculars at the dim shapes of the remaining Erusean destroyers. "Get more star shells in the air, pronto. If the torpedoes are still put on hold when the sky is once again lit up, we will have to push in even more. Take the opportunity to sink more of the Eruseans' screening force while we're at it."
"Should our cruisers follow us then, Captain?"
"Keep them behind us, like the last few times. I don't fancy those battleships getting lucky and sinking our heavy firepower. A La Galissonnière is every bit as fragile as she's fast."
"Understood, Captain. I'll pass on the words."
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The Ustian Air Force, to put it mildly, is a mixed bag in Ustian Algeria. They have all the bombers and fighters in a place where there's little to no need for them. And, much like the Ustian Mediterranean Fleet, they're strangely well-armed and modern by contemporary standards. Arguably, their airframes are much better than those of the now non-existent Erusean Air Force, before the Erusean Kingdom's bulk purchasing of USA aircraft. Once again, the Ustian colonial forces have the now supposedly deceased and former Prime Minister of the Ustian Loyalists to thank. However, it remains baffling to many why the former Prime Minister pushed for a modernization of the colonial forces instead of those in the homeland during the prelude to his downfall. Strange as it may be, these modern aircraft are finally put to good use, albeit in a manner none of the pilots would have expected. They fly to sink their now ex-ally, the Eruseans, instead of their ex-enemy, the Belkans. Quite surprising how the tables have turned.
Having prepared themselves in accordance with Admiral Gensoul's plan, the aircraft of the Ustian Colonial Air Force braved strong winds and dark clouds just so they could get to the designated area in the allotted time frame. Quite frankly, no one knows how the battle at sea will develop, so these Ustian pilots have been staying in the air for quite some time. Their fuel tanks are running out at an alarming rate despite the generous amount of liquid flame they're allocated in this sortie. Fortunately, however, the fear of falling out of the sky with full ordinances won't happen to any of them today. When it's confirmed that the Erusean Force H is maintaining largely an Eastbound heading, the time has come for them to close in for an attack approach.
On this night, the Colonial Air Force brings out two specific airframes, the only two with enough endurance to wait for Admiral Gensoul's signal. One of which is the Latécoère 298, a torpedo-bomber seaplane, and the Potez 633, a light-level bomber variant of the Potez 63 series of aircraft. While the latter took off from the few airbases large enough to house a twin-engine bomber, the Laté 298 seaplanes came from the many coastal stations along the coast of Ustian Algeria. All of them were then bunched up to form a mixed, multi-level bombing unit just to deal with Force H.
Now that the appointed time is near, it's surprisingly the Laté 298s that will go and engage their ordinance first despite their much slower speed when compared to the Potez 633s. This is a tactical decision, made so that the enemy won't be on the alert for the cumbersome Laté 298s if the Potez bombers attacked first. While the seaplanes creep low to the sea level for the deployment of their torpedoes, the Potez 633s maintain a high altitude for their semi-dive bombing attack. While durable and suitably armed with a pair of 200 kg bombs on each aircraft, the stress induced by a high-G pull-up can be quite volatile to the overall construction strength of the bombers' wings. This is why the Potez 633s are fitted with a periscopic bombsight for their rear gunners to use. The bombsight is placed in an arrangement that is most uncomfortable for the spines of these gunners. However, they'll just have to make it work, somehow.
"All aircraft, the attack is a go! I repeat, the attack is a go! Stick with the plan, be confident, and you'll make it out alive with a kill marker on your fuselage. Viva la Ustio!"
Emerging from the dark side of the battlefield and into the dancing rays of star shells, the Laté 298s crest into what's usually a distance where their engines can be heard by their enemies. Yet, owing to the battering winds and the roars of naval cannons firing, the Eruseans fail to notice the seaplanes carrying deadly torpedoes coming right for their starboard side. By the time the torpedo bombers fly past the conning towers of the Erusean warships, it's already too late for an alarm to be raised on Force H.
In fact, some of the Erusean sailors and officers can't even believe their eyes or their subordinates when they report that multiple aircraft have just flown right over their heads. They have been so busy looking down and forgot what it's like to be looking up.
"T-Torpedo, to starboard!"