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Jylland late spring 1942

Erik covered in the wet heather, feeling his clothes slowly going from damp to drenched as he watched the scenery before him.

It was well past curfew, but the early summer nights provided amble light for them. It was the third night in just as many months Erik had been out here, ever since Christian and he had been on the first excursion in the early spring, and he had wrangled a transfer to the nearest naval base, ostensibly to supervise the laid up fleet in the different harbours.

At first it had been a treat, to go into the forest at night, not really worrying about the Germans, only to return in the morning when the curfew lifted. Then as the training was over, and the first real operations had been carried out the game had suddenly become serious. The Germans had not taken lightly on the new situation, the curfew had been rigorously enforced, and patrols had been increased substantially.

The young lieutenant surveyed the open stretch before him, nothing stirred. It was just like the first time, only his nerves seemed unable to settle down. He was here to evaluate the training, and with the operations that had been carried out the last three months, this would be just like the first time, and yet nothing like it.

For the first time he truly felt vulnerable, as if the true nature and import of his actions suddenly all had been revealed to him. This was no game, no easy walk to the ferry to Sweden, with all his secrets stored in his memory. This would be life and death, if discovered he would be shot at, and likely be killed.

He shifted slightly and instantly regretted it as cold water trickled down his sleeve. He looked left to the group commander to see if he had had any signs from the lookouts. The man shook his head slightly and Erik resigned himself to the wait.

Finally he detected a spot of movement up ahead, and again checking with the man next to him he got a slow nod. Slowly he got up on his belly and wormed his way back into the thicket behind them. Once there he carefully stood up, feeling his joints complain over the prolonged immobility. As the rest of the group gradually gathered they began moving along the forest’s edge towards other side of the clearing. Once there they crossed a narrow strip of trees and emerged upon tonight’s target.

The single rail line lay as two thin glittering lines in the dim summer night vanishing around a bend in the distance. The men had already started on the task at hand, efficiently unloading the content of their backpacks and digging into the pebble foundations of the rail.

What seemed like an eternity but probably only spanned a few moments the holes were completed and the designated explosives man started to lay his charges, finishing quickly the commander of the team ordered everyone into the forest again, the last man trailing the deadly, but important copper wire.

The muffled roar filled the quiet forest sending a few birds to the sky and peppering the covering men with small pieces of debris. Erik looked up briefly catching the eye of the leader. The man slowly shook his head to clear it then nodded for Erik and a few others to inspect the hole.

“Hurry up, there is no way of knowing when the Germans show up.”

Erik nodded and stumbled forward, feeling slightly dizzy. The hole in the ditch was impressive, but that was of little interest, what was however was the crooked rods of steel jabbing unceremoniously into the air interrupting the nice even lines of the rail. Erik nodded in satisfaction, the troop transport from Norway scheduled here in a few hours would not get very far, and if the driver overlooked this and derailed the train then the line would be inoperable not only for a few days, but more likely for weeks.

He smiled grimly as he jogged back to the rest, this was the main line through Jutland, and while it likely had little or no impact in the great scheme of the war, it never the less send a signal, and an important boost to the moral. He nodded his thanks to the commander of the group as they all melted back into the woods, slowly dispersing to pass the time and evade patrols until sunrise and the lifting of the curfew.

This was only the start, soon the rails would be blown while the train was on them, denying the Germans not only the passage, but also the use of the equipment.
 
Methinks they will stand up and notice now, if they had not already. Good to see this continue. :)
 
nice one, vald... :)
 
Thanks fellas, I'll try gettting something up soon, though I'm currently updating the other one :)

Max! woot, what the hell are you doing here? :D out of betaland and out of HoI modding :eek:

I'm honoured, thanks for stopping by :)

V
 
AfrejseFrikorps.jpg


Christian and Erik stood quietly at the bridge across the rails on Tietgensgade and watched the show below them at the main station.

The scene made the young officer sick to the core of his being, yet his eyes could not be torn away. He glanced at the commander at his side, and beyond him at the German soldiers guarding the station from their position on the centre of the bridge.

It was not the first such departure form Denmark they had witnessed, but this was by far the largest. Erik idly wondered what Jens Sørensen, the communist naval officer heading the BOPA in Sjælland thought of the departure.

The young lieutenant watched as all the young men boarded the train, kissing their families and sweethearts goodbye. The scene would be touching and could have on any given been Danish soldiers returning after leave in the nations capital. Could have been, had it not been for the overpowering presence of German officers, officers dressed in black, and with smiles on their faces.

Erik finally turned away, but forced his eyes back when the whistle signalled the departure of the train. What met his eyes sent bile to his mouth. Hundreds of ordinary Danes, mothers, fathers, sisters, lovers, sweethearts and brothers were raising their right arms in salute as their sons and lovers slowly glided out of sight as the train rounded the curve a Dybbøl station.

The young man swallowed and turned towards the older commander. Christian’s face was an impassive mask not giving away his thoughts. Erik swore quietly,

“What is this? What just happened here?”

His rational mind knew the answer, but his soul cried for those who had left.

“Those are idealist, not unlike those who left in 1933 for Spain.”

Erik’s head snapped up at the dry comment from the commander,

“Idealists?”

Erik almost spat, and Christian lifted his hand a bit in caution,

“Come let us walk, this is not the place.”

Erik took a deep breath and followed the older man down towards the harbour.


They walked for a while in silence until Erik could no longer contain himself,

“So?”

“They fight for what they believe, they are of to fight communism in a very real sense. Not all of them are Nazis, some of them believe strongly in obstructing communism, far more strongly than they believe in other parts of the Nazi ideology.”

Christian’s face had taken on a sad expression even if his words came out as dry and academic and Erik wondered if these thoughts had tormented the commander before, in the early years of the thirties when he had travelled Germany and Spain in his capacity as officer in the Danish navy intelligence.

The young man shook his head, he kept forgetting the confusing allegiances that had tormented Europe, Spanish volunteers, Finland volunteers, Volunteers in Soviet, and now this. This abomination. Danish boys, not older than himself, many a fair deal younger travelling south to join the Germans.

He shook his head again, it was not the first send off, but this was the first regular regiment if you wanted to call it that, trained, manned and equipped here, ready to serve the Fuhrer as soon as they reached Germany.

They walked on in silence while the thoughts rummaged through his head. They would not serve in Germany off course, or France, no they had signed up for real duty. They had signed up to fight in the east.

Looking across the harbour he was at a loss for words, Frikorps Danmark, had they only chosen another word, another name. Now his country for good or for bad was associated with the German war effort.

The two men reached Christianshavn and Erik’s apartment on foot, the crossing of the harbour bridge a sure way to avoid any shadow. Now they had some planning to do, the sabotage in Jutland was increasing, and so was the presence of the Germans.
 
It seems this is becoming your 2nd slow AAR, but slow updates are better than none. ;) I can really sense the shame of the men as they see their countrymen go off to fight and die for the Germans. It cannot fill one with pride to see the Nazi salute coming from those thought to be smarter than that. But your justification is probably true - they have more sympathy as an anti-communist than as a pro-Nazi. Still...
 
coz1 said:
It seems this is becoming your 2nd slow AAR, but slow updates are better than none. ;) I can really sense the shame of the men as they see their countrymen go off to fight and die for the Germans. It cannot fill one with pride to see the Nazi salute coming from those thought to be smarter than that. But your justification is probably true - they have more sympathy as an anti-communist than as a pro-Nazi. Still...

well this is 41 they still held quite some sympathy, and you must not forget, alot of them were Finalnd volunteers before, and even more fought against communism rather than for Germany.. it is easy to say "they joined SS" yes they did, but even as theey surely committed atrocities they mostly joined to fight the eastern menace as they sawe it. These were men who had been interned in work camps during the socialistc rule under the 30s...

ofc there were an equal number joining for idealistic nazi reasons :) in all there where four "regiments" some earlier than this, but Frikorps Danmark by for the largest and most well known.

V
 
Jutland, early autumn 1941


nightpic.jpg

The harvest moon hung pale on the deep blue august sky as Erik once again braved the Danish countryside in defiance of the curfew. Drifting banks of clouds regularly covered the ground in darkness causing the small group to pause and walk more carefully.

The cool dry night was perfect for an outing like this, as well as for sabotage, and the men were well aware that the Germans knew this.

Despite the brightness of the moon the ground was shrouded in darkness as the group entered the large forest covering great parts of central Jutland. They paused under the first branches allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Notwithstanding the dangers of the moonlight its pale shine and even more so the cloud free periods were of paramount importance for tonight’s mission.

They walked in the dark forest for what seemed like hours to Erik, skirting the open clearings and staying in the dark shadows. Once in a while a dark gravel road cut through the trees. In daylight a harmless work road, now a dangerous open space fraught with peril and the risk of patrols and detection. Still they had to be crossed, and even these roads served their purpose to the mission, if not tonight, then soon.

As the night moved into the first hour after midnight they finally reached a large natural clearing dotted with small marshy spots and a single pond feed from an underground spring. The group spread out across the meadow and began pulling their equipment out of their bags. Erik followed the leader of the group to the nearest men and watched as they routinely combined the parts.

He watched as a car battery was wired to a large lamp that looked like a signal lamp from a train. The men briefly connected the wires and the lamp instantly began glowing red, quickly growing in intensity. The leader nodded in satisfaction and the man unhooked the wire killing the light.

All across the meadow the men settled in for a wait by their equipment and lookouts disappeared back into the forest. Erik waited with the leader but every attempt at small talk died out as tensions grew the hour approaching for the next phase. The young seaman fidgeted with his cigarettes but a warning glance from one of the men stopped him from lighting it, he sent a sheepish look of apology to the leader who merely shrugged.

Finally the man began looking at his watch and nodded. All across the field men stood up and readied their gear again. The leader cocked his head and smiled. Erik looked quizzically at him but then he too could hear it.

A low drone of a single plane came from the west and Erik instinctly looked that way but he could see nothing but the drifting clouds. Finally a fleeting shadow, a touch darker than the autumn sky, appeared at the corner of his eye. Soundlessly he pointed at it and the leader flashed a white cloth, bright against the dark surroundings. Instantly the lights flashed on, then off again, then on in an intricate pattern giving the pilot both direction of wind and confirmation of the right group waiting on the ground.

The plane moved out of sight, but the sound never disappeared and moments later it reappeared higher across the meadow. At first Erik thought it had failed as he watched the plane disappear the second time continuing back west. Then, awfully bright against the dark sky large white globs opened up dropping fast and slightly sideways on the light winds.

Across the filed men scrambled towards the possible landings. Lights long ago turned of and left for a few fellows to stove away. Erik rushed with the others and was greeted by large steel container, its parachute billowing on the ground in the light breeze. Watched breathlessly as some scrambled to pull the chute in, the cloth seemed to have a life of its own, while others quickly broke open the container to reveal a god sent of riches.

He managed to spot several guns and sub machine guns before the men covered his view quickly removing the items into their backs for transport. He noticed that there were explosives like the ones he had seen not so long ago in Sweden and on the dark trip to the railroad track.

In what seemed like a hurried instant the container was emptied and the supplies replaced by the parachute and rocks, and carried off to the pond. He watched as the grey metal boxes slipped under the surface and disappeared with a low gurgle of escaping air.

Erik followed the men as they gathered near the forest edge, silently wondering how they would lug all the received supplies out of the forest by foot.

The leader followed his eyes to the growing stack of bags and sacks and grinned,

“Don’t worry, we only take the bare necessities, the rest we hide or burry and pick up tomorrow. Why else would we choose an area with roads? Did you think we preferred to invite the Germans along?”

Erik nodded sheepishly, off course that would be the best course, and should the stash be found there would be no evidence in the forest. He could safely report to the Commander that all had gone as planned. All the remained was the long walk back.
 
Armed and dangerous now, eh? Let's hope so. Good to see another excellent update here, V. Let's see some more. :)
 
This next piece is written a bit tongue in cheek, I wanted both to show some of the issues facing a nation without coal or oil, and under curfew, and to introduce a highly impropriate relationship, but i must admit I got carried slightly away, and thus it became a tad cheesy :D

I have however not been succesful finding the right tone, so I decided to do it slightly comical instead :)

V
 
Winter 1942

Commander Nielsen had pulled his collar up and the brim of his hat down against the brisk eastern wind. Snow mixed rain was blowing in from the sea and as a naval city Copenhagen seemed to have all streets turned into that wind no matter where you went.

He turned down a street and quickly ducked into a bakery when he saw two large black overcoats heading his way. Probably nothing to be alarmed of, but the sabotage groups had slowly gained confidence and experience, and the Germans no longer could ignore that there was indeed some sort of resistance in the small and peaceful nation of Denmark.

Nothing happened and he bought some sticky pastry to cover his entry to the shop. Once outside he regretted it, the paperback from the bakery soon got drenched and he had to support the bag with his hands.

Swearing lightly under his breath he caught the right tram and headed north, the Admiral was usually not involved in his actions, but pressing time and a need to talk had convinced the old sailor that they should meet.

As he once again braved the quiet residential street he could not help but send a fleeting thought to Maria who had greeted him the last few times he had been there. She had made a lasting impression on him the first time, a branding he seemed unable to shake, but even though she had been at home a few times when he called on her father he had never managed to talk with her.

Now, as he trundled up the paved path to the stately home he wondered briefly if she would be there. He was thus ready with a genuine smile when it was indeed her who opened the door. Soundlessly she beckoned him to hurry in, the rain pressing on the oaken door and he quickly entered the dimly lit hall, and took of his hat before turning and looking really at her.

His first reaction was an incredulous stare that quickly turned into a smile. The usual immaculate and refined looking lady now looked quite different. The shirt was grimy and not tucked in properly, her slacks dusty with a streak of something dark, her hair dishelved and dirty, and her face sweaty with dark smudges that looked to Christian like sooth.

She glowered and sent her visitor a frustrated look,

“Granddad bought a Stoker furnace, but the blasted thing wont work, I’ve been fighting it all day. The damned thing will not burn properly and the men from the company cannot be here until Monday.”

Christian glanced out the window at the slate grey skies that promised a raw and cold weekend.

“And your grand father?”

She smiled wickedly,

“He took one look at it, then hurried of to the offices on Holmen and the warmth there.”

He looked surprised,

“He is not here?”

She looked slightly worried at the weather,

“No, not yet, I was expecting him soon, but I do not know now…..”

Christian gingerly placed the soaked bakery bag on the floor and shrugged out of his wet coat and handed it to Maria. As she hung up his coat he picked the bag up again and thought for a moment,

“I could take a look at the stove if you like?”

She turned back and sent him a quizzically look,

“Oh?”

“Well I am a ship’s officer, not an engineer granted, but still, I’ve seen the innards of various furnaces before.”

She shrugged and gestured for him to follow her through the hall towards the kitchen. As they crossed through the spacious kitchen towards the basement stairs he could not help to admire her as she walked before him, her poise and grace, the long dark hair. He shook his head, she was too young for him and it would be far too dangerous for both of them as it was, in the middle of his current war.

He followed her down the stairs past a room obviously dedicated to washing into a dimly lit room dominated by a large stoker furnace and the much smaller original coal burner. The sour smell of wet soot and badly burning turf and wood hit his sense immediately and gave him the first clue to the possible problem.

Absentmindedly he handed her the soak bakery bag and put his jacket on a door knob before rolling up his sleeves looking for some sort of light to shed on the dark interior.

Maria accepted the wet packages wordlessly, but her eyebrows arced bemused as she examined the content, but Christian never noticed. As the Commander knelt in front of the stove, lamp in hand and back turned to her she shrugged and sat on the floor carefully peeling the wet paper from the pastry inside.

She watched as Christian under a lot of mumbling and swearing almost crawled head first into the bowels of the furnaces and almost broke out laughing when he reappeared even dirtier than her, streaked with sooth and rust.

Christian looked at her surprised, then looked at down at himself and his clothes and winced. Then he shrugged and threw another glance at her before diving back into the burn chamber, she looked damn nice sitting there on the floor, dirty and dishelved with sticky finger digging out the remains of the pastry without caring or noticing that he was looking at her.

He smiled to himself as he pointed the light up on the inside of the burn chamber. Yes, there it was, the leak form the water tank, they had not assembled it properly, and now it leaked into the fire, not only quelling it, but also removing water pressure for the heaters around the house. He shook his head, and swore as his forehead grazed the iron. Sloppy work installing this thing. He lit a match in the confined room, yes, the draft was wrong too, perhaps something blocked the chimney?

He took the wrench and tightened the leaking coupling, then pushed with his shoulders to twist around and see if he could see up the chimney. Nothing there, except, he pulled a little further in, there it was, they had twisted the pipe a fraction, and now some sort of packing material had gotten caught. He reached for it and fumbled with it for a moment.

Maria licked her fingers carefully, she could not recall the last time she had pastry, not to mention wet and soggy pastry, but she had not had lunch, and the rich sweet taste seemed just right at the moment. She looked curiously on as the commander disappeared into the furnace, and smiled as he wiggled further and further in; it seemed almost comical the way only his lower body was visible, almost as if the furnace was eating him alive.

She cocked her head and absentmindedly sucked her finger for the last glazing as she watched him work. Closing her eyes she let her mind wander and was oblivious to the fact that the sound of Christian’s work had stopped. Suddenly the phone rang far away in the house, and as she abruptly opened her eyes he stood before her, with a strange little smile,

“I believe we should try and light it up again, I may have fixed it.”

For a long moment they said nothing then the phone rang again and she merely nodded,

“There is wood over there if you don’t mind.”

She blushed slightly as the left the room and Christian shrugged, he had no idea what had been on his mind and he simply went to the firewood and started lighting the stove.

He was busy getting the roaring fire to build when Maria returned. She stood for a moment in the doorway watching him as he shovelled firewood unto the flames. The room was already noticeably warmer.

She looked at her clothes and then back over her shoulder at the dark washing room. She threw another glance at the busy man, he would not notice, the roar and creaking from the fire and boiler would mask any sound. She pulled deeper into the dark washing room and went behind a great sheet hanging to dry and began to peel of the dirty clothes.

Christian caught a brief movement out of the corner of his eye and stepped back from the fire in time to see her move behind her cover. The dim light from the window back lit her movements and he quickly stepped back to the fire and called over his shoulder,

“If you wait another half hour there will be hot water for a bath.”

Maria blushed and stopped what she was doing,

“That would be nice, but what about you?”

He shrugged without replying,

“Daddy rang, he is staying there, the curfew is close so he cannot be sure to make it home on the tram.”

He nodded to himself and turned back towards the door, while shutting the grilled door to the fire. What he saw almost made him forget to let go and was rewarded with a burn on his right hand. Absentmindedly he rubbed the burned hand as he admired what had caught his attention.

Maria stood in the middle of the washing room only half dressed, she smiled shyly,

“I had already dropped the shirt and slack, I hope you don’t mind too much.”

Christian merely shook his head speechless, not certain how much was on purpose,

“You should at least come in here until the water is warm or you’ll get cold,”

He offered his jacket and stepped aside. She smilingly accepted and sat demurely on the other side of the room while the fire roared in the furnace.

“I should go upstairs and freshen up,”

He looked sadly at the state of his clothes.

She shook her head,

“Wait here with me, I will draw you a bath in fathers bathroom, and lay out some of his clothes.”

Christian nodded, and tried to avert his eyes from her thin chemise and mostly succeeding. His head spun with the implications of her father’s delay and her sudden state of undressed. She could not have planned this, and he would have to remain cool. Too much was at stake, and he had not successfully been a nonentity in Denmark for the past years to become visible and vulnerable now.

He sighed, had it been peacetime and he five years younger, then perhaps… He shook his head of the thought, she was the grandchild of his mentor, albeit only ten years or so separated them it was too much. He looked at the gauge on the furnace, almost all water heated.

“I think you can start on the first bath now, where is your father’s bathroom, I will come along in a minute or two.”

She nodded and gave directions to the first floor bathrooms then left, taking his jacket with her.

He waited for another few moments then trundled through the darkened house towards the first floor. He followed the sound of running water through the dark corridor, hoping that would lead him through to the right place.

Reaching a door behind which he could hear running water he grasped for the handle. In the darkness he did not see the old carpet running down the centre of the hall and as he fumbled for the handle slipped and fell through the door.

The room behind was brightly lit, and decorated in warm rose colours, but it was not that which caused the commander to freeze and blush despite his close to forty years of living. What caused his state of confusion was the fact that Maria stood in the middle of the room, half obscured by steam from the hot water filled bathtub behind her, but not hiding her undressed state.

Christian fumbling begins to stand up from his kneeling position,

“Must be the wrong bathroom…”

But he is interrupted by a hearty giggle from Maria, covering herself with a towel she smiles,

“Indeed commander, I had no idea navigation was in such a lousy state in the Danish Navy.”

Grinning she waves of his apologies,

“This is my bathroom, used to be mommy’s. Granddad’s is further down the hall through his bedroom, but I have not yet turned on the water there,”

She looks gloomily at the brimming tub,

“I fear I may have used all the hot water here.”

Christian rights himself and places his hand on the door,

“My apologies, I had no intention to barge in on you like that, if you do not mind I will retire to the Admirals rooms, I can await the hot water there.”

Flustered he exists almost as clumsily as he entered, cursing him self for the obvious bad impression he has left on her. As he sits on the Admiral’s luxurious bed his mind is haunted by the images of Maria standing there in the fog, ready to climb into the tub. He shakes his head sadly and slowly takes of the pants and dirty shirt and lies down on the bed, eyes closed.

As he lies there he does not hear anything, but suddenly there is a slight change in the air, a faint smell, a small draft. Nerves on edge after months on the run he bolts upright. Only to find Maria standing there, still wrapped in the towel,

“Commander, I forgot to ask, I assume you will be staying here during the curfew?”

Irrationally his first thought was that she had never called him anything but Commander all day, but then he drowsily, nodded,

“I would appreciate that, I can sleep in a guest room surely, and please, Maria, I am not that old, call me Christian.”

He wondered where that came from, he was old, close to twenty years her senior, even if her mother had been a good deal older than him and she had gotten Maria at a very early time. He was so caught up in his calculations that he missed the glint in her eyes and the small impish smile around her lips,

“As you wish, Christian,”

She dropped the towel and turned towards the door,

“Perhaps then you will oblige me, and share the tub with me? I fear it will be hours until enough water is heated for a second one.”

Christian stood speechless at the audacity of her actions, his mind racing in several directions. Where had she learned such carefree and frivolous actions? What would her grandfather say if he was to see his grand daughter? Hopefully he would never know of this little intermezzo. Now should he go with her?

He felt awfully tempted but was about to let reason conquer when Maria turned in the door,

“Come on Commander the water is getting cold, and I have noticed how you have looked at me, do you really think it was ALL a coincidence?”

She smiled knowingly and cocked her head, Christian knew when he was beaten and smiled slightly, then he followed her down the hall.

After all, he could do with a bath.
 
Very nice. I did not find it absurd at all. In fact, the situation seemed perfectly realistic, comedic or no. She certainly did seem to be playing for that ending and he fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Now he gets to be clean and dirty at the same time. ;) :D
 
Cool an enjoyable read so far,i just caught up...subscribed :)