Mythos1978: Yes, reinforcements are coming. As for an air force, I don't have any ground-attack planes at the moment so meh 
Update coming up!
Update coming up!
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34 kilometers south of Okhotsk
February 18, 1937
Vasilevskij strode into the hastily created dugout that served as the headquarters for his and Zhukov’s two armored corps. Walking in, he saw that Zhukov was already inside, and quite comfortable, given how warm it was compared to the biting cold outside. Zhukov looked up for a moment before turning his eyes back to the sheaf of papers in his hands that was examining. Absently, he pushed a similar stack of papers across the table toward Vasilevskij.
“This is all we have about the situation; most of it comes from Voroshilov. You know what that means, of course, but at least some of it comes from Lukin in Borzya and Shapkin in Vladivostok. It seems like we’ll have quite a job ahead of us.”
Vasilevskij grinned, eager to show his mettle in another campaign, as the Baltic and Finnish campaigns had merely whetted his appetite. He took a sit across from Zhukov and began leafing through the papers. Most of it was written in Voroshilov’s standard overly ornate style of writing, and Vasilevskij estimated that more of it was actually praising his own military prowess than providing useful information on the situation. Vasilevskij grimaced as he skimmed over the obviously self-praise, not wishing to upset his stomach. He had just eaten breakfast and did not relish the prospect of a dugout that stank of vomit.
Sighing, he tossed most of the papers back onto the table, keeping only those whose language was blunt and to the point. These, he knew, were from the two corps commanders Zhukov had named. Vasilevskij had not met either of them personally, but Voroshilov had spoken highly of them back in Moscow before the reinforcing expedition had set out. As Vasilevskij read the remainder of the report compilation in detail, he saw that Lukin at least was making some progress in the northwestern sector, slowly rolling back the Manchurian inroads into the most unimportant parts of the Soviet Union. Having won his battle in Borzya, he occupied the village and then turned northward towards Mogocha on the 12th.
Lukin’s battle around Mogocha.
At Mogocha he had discovered a largely irregular Manchurian militia unit, approximately division-sized, commanded by a full major general. Despite the freezing temperatures, the difficult mountainous terrain and the exhaustion of his division, Lukin pressed the attack. His faith in his men was vindicated as, four days of fighting later, the brittle Manchurian defensive line broke and the militia fled back into Manchuria proper. Vasilevskij frowned appreciatively at Lukin’s achievement; either the Manchurian militia was very incompetent or Lukin was fairly skilled. Vasilevskij admittedly believed that the victory was more attributable to the Manchurian inadequacy than any real skill on Lukin’s part, though that did seem a bit unfair to Lukin.
The day of Lukin’s victory was the day that Zhukov and Vasilevskij had arrived at Okhotsk, the 16th of February. They arrived just in time to halt a Manchurian push into the village. However, they had decided not to go onto the offensive themselves just yet as they knew their troops needed to reorganize first. Thus, they waited a full two days before attacking southward, toward Chumikan.
Vasilevskij’s and Zhukov’s two armored corps pushing south toward Chumikan, having shattered the Manchurian defenses before them easily.
Looking up from the papers in his hand, Vasilevskij saw Zhukov look expectantly at him. Blinking, Vasilevskij realized that he had somewhat lost awareness of his surroundings. “What did you say?” he asked Zhukov, needing to know what he was expected to reply to.
Zhukov smirked and repeated himself. “I said, what do you think of changing your axis of advance, Vasilevskij?”
Vasilevskij was curious. “Where to?”
“I want to send you to Borzya. Lukin’s made that area safe and it is much closer to the heartland of Manchuria than we are now. You’d be right on the border, and with Lukin in support could easily thrust southward and hit the enemy hard.”
“That sounds like a good plan. When would I go?”
“You’ll need to be waiting around here for another week at least, we need to gather the rolling stock necessary to transport your corps down there and schedule everything so that it all runs smoothly. This means that until we can organize everything, you’ll be sticking around and supporting my drive toward Chumikan.”
Vasilevskij nodded. “Fair enough. Your plan is good; attacking seriously from two directions will force the Manchurians to split their forces. They don’t have anything that can really stop armor, so we’ll be able to destroy them.”
Zhukov smiled. “Exactly.”
February 18, 1937
Vasilevskij strode into the hastily created dugout that served as the headquarters for his and Zhukov’s two armored corps. Walking in, he saw that Zhukov was already inside, and quite comfortable, given how warm it was compared to the biting cold outside. Zhukov looked up for a moment before turning his eyes back to the sheaf of papers in his hands that was examining. Absently, he pushed a similar stack of papers across the table toward Vasilevskij.
“This is all we have about the situation; most of it comes from Voroshilov. You know what that means, of course, but at least some of it comes from Lukin in Borzya and Shapkin in Vladivostok. It seems like we’ll have quite a job ahead of us.”
Vasilevskij grinned, eager to show his mettle in another campaign, as the Baltic and Finnish campaigns had merely whetted his appetite. He took a sit across from Zhukov and began leafing through the papers. Most of it was written in Voroshilov’s standard overly ornate style of writing, and Vasilevskij estimated that more of it was actually praising his own military prowess than providing useful information on the situation. Vasilevskij grimaced as he skimmed over the obviously self-praise, not wishing to upset his stomach. He had just eaten breakfast and did not relish the prospect of a dugout that stank of vomit.
Sighing, he tossed most of the papers back onto the table, keeping only those whose language was blunt and to the point. These, he knew, were from the two corps commanders Zhukov had named. Vasilevskij had not met either of them personally, but Voroshilov had spoken highly of them back in Moscow before the reinforcing expedition had set out. As Vasilevskij read the remainder of the report compilation in detail, he saw that Lukin at least was making some progress in the northwestern sector, slowly rolling back the Manchurian inroads into the most unimportant parts of the Soviet Union. Having won his battle in Borzya, he occupied the village and then turned northward towards Mogocha on the 12th.
Lukin’s battle around Mogocha.
At Mogocha he had discovered a largely irregular Manchurian militia unit, approximately division-sized, commanded by a full major general. Despite the freezing temperatures, the difficult mountainous terrain and the exhaustion of his division, Lukin pressed the attack. His faith in his men was vindicated as, four days of fighting later, the brittle Manchurian defensive line broke and the militia fled back into Manchuria proper. Vasilevskij frowned appreciatively at Lukin’s achievement; either the Manchurian militia was very incompetent or Lukin was fairly skilled. Vasilevskij admittedly believed that the victory was more attributable to the Manchurian inadequacy than any real skill on Lukin’s part, though that did seem a bit unfair to Lukin.
The day of Lukin’s victory was the day that Zhukov and Vasilevskij had arrived at Okhotsk, the 16th of February. They arrived just in time to halt a Manchurian push into the village. However, they had decided not to go onto the offensive themselves just yet as they knew their troops needed to reorganize first. Thus, they waited a full two days before attacking southward, toward Chumikan.
Vasilevskij’s and Zhukov’s two armored corps pushing south toward Chumikan, having shattered the Manchurian defenses before them easily.
Looking up from the papers in his hand, Vasilevskij saw Zhukov look expectantly at him. Blinking, Vasilevskij realized that he had somewhat lost awareness of his surroundings. “What did you say?” he asked Zhukov, needing to know what he was expected to reply to.
Zhukov smirked and repeated himself. “I said, what do you think of changing your axis of advance, Vasilevskij?”
Vasilevskij was curious. “Where to?”
“I want to send you to Borzya. Lukin’s made that area safe and it is much closer to the heartland of Manchuria than we are now. You’d be right on the border, and with Lukin in support could easily thrust southward and hit the enemy hard.”
“That sounds like a good plan. When would I go?”
“You’ll need to be waiting around here for another week at least, we need to gather the rolling stock necessary to transport your corps down there and schedule everything so that it all runs smoothly. This means that until we can organize everything, you’ll be sticking around and supporting my drive toward Chumikan.”
Vasilevskij nodded. “Fair enough. Your plan is good; attacking seriously from two directions will force the Manchurians to split their forces. They don’t have anything that can really stop armor, so we’ll be able to destroy them.”
Zhukov smiled. “Exactly.”
I am thinking that Voroshilov won't like having a cohort very much. But it is a solid plan and will help end this war.
So Zhukov is swinging into action to claim the honour and glory? Voroshilov is going to be pissed.
Voroshilov is going to be pissed. 
Nah. He'll claim that Zjukov won only because he was inspired by a glorious military figure and example, that is Voroshilov himself.General Jac said:So Zhukov is swinging into action to claim the honour and glory?
General Jac: Haha, maybe...
BritishImperial: Nah, that's Kuznetsov you're thinking of
4th Dimension: Perhaps...
Update coming up!
BritishImperial: Nah, that's Kuznetsov you're thinking of
4th Dimension: Perhaps...
Update coming up!
34 kilometers south of Okhotsk
February 27, 1937
Vasilevskij sighed as he slumped on his chair, tossing a pebble he had found in the dugout up into the air and catching it deftly. It had been over a week and still his corps hadn’t been moved anywhere and it was depressing him. He wanted action; he wanted to command against an enemy. And yet, there he was stuck south of Okhotsk as Zhukov pushed southward forward Chumikan. Granted, he was presiding over a little spat with the Manchurians at Aldan but that was not quite what he was looking for. However, it just wasn’t decisive enough, or large enough, to interest him. With a sigh, he stood up and forcefully threw the stone into a corner of the dugout, watching it bounce off the hard and cold soil and roll back toward him. He felt kind of like that stone, out of place and tumbling about without direction. He compressed his lips into a hard, thin line as he considered both his position and the strategic situation in Manchuria generally. He reviewed the major facts without bias, but merely estimating how they would impact his campaign once he actually began it.
First, Manchuria was vast, and with poor infrastructure. He knew that this would slow down his planned armored thrust to a fair extent as all the roads would be tied up not only by the advancing columns but also by the considerable logistical tail that mechanized war of maneuver required. Second, the important areas of Manchuria were in the south of the state, approximately on the same latitude as Vladivostok as far as it concerned him. This would magnify the impact of the poor infrastructure and allow the Manchurians time to perhaps marshal a significant defense against him. Third, the predominant part of Voroshilov’s Manchurian Front had been wiped out; of the six divisions it had had at the beginning of the campaign in November, four were destroyed. This left one division at Borzya in the northwest and one division at Mudanjiang in the southeast. They were largely irrelevant to each other, and to Zhukov’s slow thrust southward, due to sheer distance; the only aid they could give one another would be by occupying Manchurian military formations.
Fourth, the Manchurians were on the offensive. Buoyed by their earlier victories, which has seen the majority of the forces arrayed against them defeated and destroyed, Manchurian morale was riding high and their military operations were reflecting this change despite the slow reverses being inflicted upon the fringes of their various advances by Lukin, Shapkin and Zhukov. It was likely that the Manchurian advance would eventually encircle Shapkin up against the sea in Vladivostok, given that the nearest reinforcements were very far away. Fifth, the Japanese were still in the war and though they had yet to make any discernable move as far as Vasilevskij was aware, common belief was that they would make their move once the Soviets were deep in Manchuria and unable to effectively counter any seaborne invasion.
Vasilevskij sighed, wishing that he could get past such mundane strategic analysis and to the actual implementation of strategy.
The strategic situation in and around Manchuria on the 23rd of February.
The fighting at the fringe of the Manchurian advance was neither rewarding nor interesting. Of course, Vasilevskij had the worse part of the deal and he realized what a weasel Zhukov was. Zhukov was taking all the glory for himself, leaving Vasilevskij to languish near Okhotsk waiting for trains that were taking a long time to arrive. To relieve the sheer boredom of waiting around, Vasilevskij had received permission from Zhukov, who was the commanding officer in the theater as befitting his Field Marshal rank, to attack the Manchurian cavalry at Aldan.
Vasilevskij had hoped that such a move might add some excitement to the long period of waiting around, and attacked early on the 27th. However, despite the wintry weather, the Manchurians did not seem to be putting up very much of a fight. Vasilevskij knew that this made sense, given that the Manchurians fielded merely one below-strength cavalry division and an artillery brigade as opposed to his own two armored and one motorized rifle divisions.
Shaking his head and sighing, Vasilevskij looked at the map on the table. It showed the considerable Manchurian gains in the north, gains whose geographical area rivaled that of Manchuria itself. Unfortunately for them, the land was virtually worthless and they did the Soviet Union no harm by occupying the land, save by demanding more time for their own reduction. And, of course, Aldan was merely at the very periphery of the Manchurian advance and was thus insignificant. Vasilevskij slowly bent over to pick up the pebble again before sitting down heavily in his chair.
The battle for Aldan and a map of the Manchurian conquests to the north.
Vasilevskij started tossing the pebble up and catching it again, bored.
February 27, 1937
Vasilevskij sighed as he slumped on his chair, tossing a pebble he had found in the dugout up into the air and catching it deftly. It had been over a week and still his corps hadn’t been moved anywhere and it was depressing him. He wanted action; he wanted to command against an enemy. And yet, there he was stuck south of Okhotsk as Zhukov pushed southward forward Chumikan. Granted, he was presiding over a little spat with the Manchurians at Aldan but that was not quite what he was looking for. However, it just wasn’t decisive enough, or large enough, to interest him. With a sigh, he stood up and forcefully threw the stone into a corner of the dugout, watching it bounce off the hard and cold soil and roll back toward him. He felt kind of like that stone, out of place and tumbling about without direction. He compressed his lips into a hard, thin line as he considered both his position and the strategic situation in Manchuria generally. He reviewed the major facts without bias, but merely estimating how they would impact his campaign once he actually began it.
First, Manchuria was vast, and with poor infrastructure. He knew that this would slow down his planned armored thrust to a fair extent as all the roads would be tied up not only by the advancing columns but also by the considerable logistical tail that mechanized war of maneuver required. Second, the important areas of Manchuria were in the south of the state, approximately on the same latitude as Vladivostok as far as it concerned him. This would magnify the impact of the poor infrastructure and allow the Manchurians time to perhaps marshal a significant defense against him. Third, the predominant part of Voroshilov’s Manchurian Front had been wiped out; of the six divisions it had had at the beginning of the campaign in November, four were destroyed. This left one division at Borzya in the northwest and one division at Mudanjiang in the southeast. They were largely irrelevant to each other, and to Zhukov’s slow thrust southward, due to sheer distance; the only aid they could give one another would be by occupying Manchurian military formations.
Fourth, the Manchurians were on the offensive. Buoyed by their earlier victories, which has seen the majority of the forces arrayed against them defeated and destroyed, Manchurian morale was riding high and their military operations were reflecting this change despite the slow reverses being inflicted upon the fringes of their various advances by Lukin, Shapkin and Zhukov. It was likely that the Manchurian advance would eventually encircle Shapkin up against the sea in Vladivostok, given that the nearest reinforcements were very far away. Fifth, the Japanese were still in the war and though they had yet to make any discernable move as far as Vasilevskij was aware, common belief was that they would make their move once the Soviets were deep in Manchuria and unable to effectively counter any seaborne invasion.
Vasilevskij sighed, wishing that he could get past such mundane strategic analysis and to the actual implementation of strategy.
The strategic situation in and around Manchuria on the 23rd of February.
The fighting at the fringe of the Manchurian advance was neither rewarding nor interesting. Of course, Vasilevskij had the worse part of the deal and he realized what a weasel Zhukov was. Zhukov was taking all the glory for himself, leaving Vasilevskij to languish near Okhotsk waiting for trains that were taking a long time to arrive. To relieve the sheer boredom of waiting around, Vasilevskij had received permission from Zhukov, who was the commanding officer in the theater as befitting his Field Marshal rank, to attack the Manchurian cavalry at Aldan.
Vasilevskij had hoped that such a move might add some excitement to the long period of waiting around, and attacked early on the 27th. However, despite the wintry weather, the Manchurians did not seem to be putting up very much of a fight. Vasilevskij knew that this made sense, given that the Manchurians fielded merely one below-strength cavalry division and an artillery brigade as opposed to his own two armored and one motorized rifle divisions.
Shaking his head and sighing, Vasilevskij looked at the map on the table. It showed the considerable Manchurian gains in the north, gains whose geographical area rivaled that of Manchuria itself. Unfortunately for them, the land was virtually worthless and they did the Soviet Union no harm by occupying the land, save by demanding more time for their own reduction. And, of course, Aldan was merely at the very periphery of the Manchurian advance and was thus insignificant. Vasilevskij slowly bent over to pick up the pebble again before sitting down heavily in his chair.
The battle for Aldan and a map of the Manchurian conquests to the north.
Vasilevskij started tossing the pebble up and catching it again, bored.
He he, thickheaded Manchurians doesn't realize that they are falling right into your trap, hopefully Vasilevskij will not die from boredom and too much vodka.
Yet more wonderful description of your various generals. I really like that they are the prime focus of your writing in this. You provide a real sense of potential defeat in describing something that will likely eventually be victory. Makes for a nice flow when they finally do win. The question here is, which general will finally get the glory for this campaign? My bets are on Zhukov.
Seems like the Soviet generals sees this war as the backwater war it truly is, I bet Stalin will be happy to win soon anyway though, not to mention the alcoholic generals.
Edzako: Hopefully not
coz1: Yes, I'm trying to make the generals as interesting a bunch as possible. As for who gets the glory, we'll see...
General Jac: Haha, yeah...
Comment day again!
coz1: Yes, I'm trying to make the generals as interesting a bunch as possible. As for who gets the glory, we'll see...
General Jac: Haha, yeah...
Comment day again!
You and your comment days , Mr. Myth ! Haha . Ahh Manchuria .. the land of the 8AM sun . The subtle underlying energy disguised in all of the frustration and boredom works excellently to weave a tapestry of haphazard generals . A necessary chapter !
canonized: Yep, definitely. Though now, we shall be taking a slight detour away from Manchuria
Mythos1978: He does have a way with words
Update coming up, some time! I don't know exactly when because I won't be posting it, for it it time for Discomb's third update! Tremble in fear, mortals!
Mythos1978: He does have a way with words
Update coming up, some time! I don't know exactly when because I won't be posting it, for it it time for Discomb's third update! Tremble in fear, mortals!
(now you are trembling in fear)
Discomb Update 3: Natural Failure Quota
Everything in life has a natural failure quota that emerges without fail in very proportional amounts. Some things have a higher quota than others, such as for example solar-powered flashlights, the HoI2 AI, Pluto, bear livers, my brother, and many more. Despite my best efforts to expect a certain degree of failure from two of the above mentioned items, I consistently find that it catches up with me at the most unexpected of times. Here’s a good example:
I was peacefully invading Bulgaria and Greece, not bothering anyone, preparing for the invasion of Yugoslavia with my 3 brand new tank cores, just minding my own business when suddenly France decides to grow a pair and sends me a most unpleasant email! I have been declared war upon! Fuuuuuuuck! Here’s a good estimation of my reaction:
Please to die.
Now as I was saying, the entirety of my army was either busy liberating Greece, or positioning itself for combat training exercises within the borders of Yugoslavia. I had a total of 6 infantry divisions on the Belgian border, placed there as a half-assed attempt to show that I actually care about guarding my borders against the AI (so untrue). Of course, the first thing I did in response to the war was strategically redeploy every man, woman and child not currently in the fatherland to Munchen (or was it Stuttgart), expecting at least the first troops to reach it and begin fighting before the French arrived. My 6 divisions moved south and effectively prevented a French expansion northward. However, what I did not expect, is that they would send one runaway cavalry division forward to capture as much territory as possible without the intention of holding on to it. Said cavalry reached Munchen (or Stuttgart) only a couple of hours before my strategic redeployments were due. The entire army was redirected to Berlin…
The following is a picture of me showing Myth some screenshots that I took of the game at the end of our first gaming session. Unfortunately, through a remarkable blunder, the actual screenshots did not survive to this day, but the picture remains, and I preserved it in as high a quality as was physically possible.
Run little minions! Save the fatherland from the horror that is onion soup!
I actually cooked onion soup not long ago. It was atrocious, certainly by no flaw of my own. Regardless, I soon began pushing the French back, but in the midst of the chaos that dreaded cavalry division slipped through my grasp and proceeded to run amok into Czechoslovakia. It didn’t help that the only formation unoccupied with holding the line from persistent attacks was my HQ army, complete with heavy artillery brigades. Can anyone else see the flaw in this scenario?
I did too, and sent a single tank division to hunt down those brazen assholes. In fact it took them so long to clean up the mess due mostly to their unwillingness to get NEAR the enemy, as whenever they approached, the French would begin to make love to their horses in every conceivable orifice. I wasn’t about to wait for the non-symbiotic species to die out, so the tank corps responsible for their death was presented with a most convincing ultimatum: kill the enemy or get sold to them for sexual exploitation purposes. They agreed with the soundness of my ideas after that.
Eventually I managed to push their main army into the Maginot line and beyond. The inevitable liberation of France began in three groups. The southern group, consisting of three tank corps and some infantry, was faced with the challenge of rushing (intuitively) south to cut off the Italian advance into France, whom they were also mysteriously at war with. The northern group was to push into the (intuitively) north of France, encircling their troops against the Belgian border, and eventually moving down into Paris. They had only one tank corps and a lot of infantry. Finally, group southwest was charged with (counter-intuitively) holding the center. Composed of only four infantry corps and the HQ army of 9 divisions, they were to guard against a French offensive that would cut off both other groups from supplies. Occasionally they applied pressure to neighbouring provinces to help the southern group, which to my surprise encountered the most difficulty in this campaign.
Parallel to my offensive, my brother gathered all that he had and declared war on Spain. He landed in Bilbao and proceeded not to invade southward, but to hole up in the Pyrenees mountains. The idea of this move was to hold his ground, while also applying pressure to the French border, forcing them to withdraw troops from the north to deal with him. Eventually, however, the Spanish mounted an unexpectedly large resistance, and it became clear that he could not hold his ground for a long enough period of time, considering my southern offensive was struggling to link up with him. Instead of withdrawing, he made a push northward into France, and occupied a good 3 or 4 provinces before the French finally realized he was attacking them, and started pushing back. Thus, sandwiched between two forces, he eventually forced his way back to the mountains and awaited reinforcements. I don’t believe he lost more than 4 divisions in the entire campaign, which was pretty sketchy to be honest.
Then, however, came the most unexpected of all surprises…
WHAT THE FUCK PAVEL!
The worst part of it is that I noticed it, Myth noticed it, but he himself did NOT! He’s the only one of us who got a notification about it, and he happily ignored it! But if you think that he hasn’t reached his natural failure quota for this update yet, you are actually wrong. He did nothing else that could be judged as extraordinarily stupid. As can be seen from the screenshot, the Italians beat me to the Mediterranean, but I happily rolled into La Rochelle and established a land link with Pavel. He was now saved from humiliating defeat, the Italians were done, stealing land from me. I peacefully finished off the French, and then rolled my armor down to Spain, where they helped Britain in their conquest of the Iberian peninsula, with the exception of Portugal. I’d be rendered quite speechless if he had trouble annexing Portugal with over 40 divisions…
I’m afraid that’s all I have to say on the situation for now. My plans include the destruction of the states of Belgium and the Netherlands, followed by bloody revenge on Italy. Peace out, listen to Stabilizer. Don’t listen to Myth.
Discomb Update 3: Natural Failure Quota
Everything in life has a natural failure quota that emerges without fail in very proportional amounts. Some things have a higher quota than others, such as for example solar-powered flashlights, the HoI2 AI, Pluto, bear livers, my brother, and many more. Despite my best efforts to expect a certain degree of failure from two of the above mentioned items, I consistently find that it catches up with me at the most unexpected of times. Here’s a good example:
I was peacefully invading Bulgaria and Greece, not bothering anyone, preparing for the invasion of Yugoslavia with my 3 brand new tank cores, just minding my own business when suddenly France decides to grow a pair and sends me a most unpleasant email! I have been declared war upon! Fuuuuuuuck! Here’s a good estimation of my reaction:
Please to die.
Now as I was saying, the entirety of my army was either busy liberating Greece, or positioning itself for combat training exercises within the borders of Yugoslavia. I had a total of 6 infantry divisions on the Belgian border, placed there as a half-assed attempt to show that I actually care about guarding my borders against the AI (so untrue). Of course, the first thing I did in response to the war was strategically redeploy every man, woman and child not currently in the fatherland to Munchen (or was it Stuttgart), expecting at least the first troops to reach it and begin fighting before the French arrived. My 6 divisions moved south and effectively prevented a French expansion northward. However, what I did not expect, is that they would send one runaway cavalry division forward to capture as much territory as possible without the intention of holding on to it. Said cavalry reached Munchen (or Stuttgart) only a couple of hours before my strategic redeployments were due. The entire army was redirected to Berlin…
The following is a picture of me showing Myth some screenshots that I took of the game at the end of our first gaming session. Unfortunately, through a remarkable blunder, the actual screenshots did not survive to this day, but the picture remains, and I preserved it in as high a quality as was physically possible.
Run little minions! Save the fatherland from the horror that is onion soup!
I actually cooked onion soup not long ago. It was atrocious, certainly by no flaw of my own. Regardless, I soon began pushing the French back, but in the midst of the chaos that dreaded cavalry division slipped through my grasp and proceeded to run amok into Czechoslovakia. It didn’t help that the only formation unoccupied with holding the line from persistent attacks was my HQ army, complete with heavy artillery brigades. Can anyone else see the flaw in this scenario?
I did too, and sent a single tank division to hunt down those brazen assholes. In fact it took them so long to clean up the mess due mostly to their unwillingness to get NEAR the enemy, as whenever they approached, the French would begin to make love to their horses in every conceivable orifice. I wasn’t about to wait for the non-symbiotic species to die out, so the tank corps responsible for their death was presented with a most convincing ultimatum: kill the enemy or get sold to them for sexual exploitation purposes. They agreed with the soundness of my ideas after that.
Eventually I managed to push their main army into the Maginot line and beyond. The inevitable liberation of France began in three groups. The southern group, consisting of three tank corps and some infantry, was faced with the challenge of rushing (intuitively) south to cut off the Italian advance into France, whom they were also mysteriously at war with. The northern group was to push into the (intuitively) north of France, encircling their troops against the Belgian border, and eventually moving down into Paris. They had only one tank corps and a lot of infantry. Finally, group southwest was charged with (counter-intuitively) holding the center. Composed of only four infantry corps and the HQ army of 9 divisions, they were to guard against a French offensive that would cut off both other groups from supplies. Occasionally they applied pressure to neighbouring provinces to help the southern group, which to my surprise encountered the most difficulty in this campaign.
Parallel to my offensive, my brother gathered all that he had and declared war on Spain. He landed in Bilbao and proceeded not to invade southward, but to hole up in the Pyrenees mountains. The idea of this move was to hold his ground, while also applying pressure to the French border, forcing them to withdraw troops from the north to deal with him. Eventually, however, the Spanish mounted an unexpectedly large resistance, and it became clear that he could not hold his ground for a long enough period of time, considering my southern offensive was struggling to link up with him. Instead of withdrawing, he made a push northward into France, and occupied a good 3 or 4 provinces before the French finally realized he was attacking them, and started pushing back. Thus, sandwiched between two forces, he eventually forced his way back to the mountains and awaited reinforcements. I don’t believe he lost more than 4 divisions in the entire campaign, which was pretty sketchy to be honest.
Then, however, came the most unexpected of all surprises…
WHAT THE FUCK PAVEL!
The worst part of it is that I noticed it, Myth noticed it, but he himself did NOT! He’s the only one of us who got a notification about it, and he happily ignored it! But if you think that he hasn’t reached his natural failure quota for this update yet, you are actually wrong. He did nothing else that could be judged as extraordinarily stupid. As can be seen from the screenshot, the Italians beat me to the Mediterranean, but I happily rolled into La Rochelle and established a land link with Pavel. He was now saved from humiliating defeat, the Italians were done, stealing land from me. I peacefully finished off the French, and then rolled my armor down to Spain, where they helped Britain in their conquest of the Iberian peninsula, with the exception of Portugal. I’d be rendered quite speechless if he had trouble annexing Portugal with over 40 divisions…
I’m afraid that’s all I have to say on the situation for now. My plans include the destruction of the states of Belgium and the Netherlands, followed by bloody revenge on Italy. Peace out, listen to Stabilizer. Don’t listen to Myth.
It's Spanish Armada :rofl: run for your life. No seriously, that is one funny screenshot, did they advanced further or he was saved from destruction ?
hah nice work. the krauts never managed it, but the spanish can in a jiffy. how come fog o war's on?
Your brother seems to be incompetent, he actually reminds me of the youngest one of my two older brothers.
And wtf at the Spanish Armada, they went boldly to where no Spaniard had invaded before.
And wtf at the Spanish Armada, they went boldly to where no Spaniard had invaded before.