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Thread: Permanently Operating Factors - A Soviet LAN AAR

  1. #321
    Heartbreaker canonized's Avatar
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    The southern flank is consolidating nicely . And you've teased us nicely with that soviet/german border there !
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  2. #322
    Outrageously Humorous Title Discomb's Avatar
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    Istanbul is red. I didn't see your counters in turkey moving towards it in the previous update...

  3. #323
    Turkey falls in a matter of seconds now. Next Greece?

  4. #324
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    canonized: yes I have. Discomb is slowly progressing through Romania

    Discomb: if you look closely at this last update and the one before, you'll notice that it was my cavalry. it ran across the water

    Erkki1: well, if you notice, the Turks retook Gazientep with its 1 VP, so I have to reclaim that before I'll be able to annex Turkey...

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  5. #325
    Spectre of Battle grayghost's Avatar

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    Well, I was going to comment on the Istanbul cliff hanger, but discomb ruined that. So what do you have left before you can annex Turkey.

    Nice job on finally subjugating Persia. Have to see what the Brits do in the middle east. Puppets, gah. Stupid people think they still have real power. News flash...YOUR A PUPPET!!! Please not the strings attached to your forearms and ankles. You dance to the tune of the Kremlin. Dance silly Persians.
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  6. #326
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    grayghost: to annex Turkey, I've got to retake Gazientep, in the south. and exactly, the Persians will definitely need to dance

    update coming up! also, Permanently Operating Factors will be going on hiatus for a week! my girlfriend will be arriving in an hour and a half or so and, seeing as I've not seen her in three months, during her stay here I'm going to spend every conceivable moment I have with her. thus, POF will pick up again on Friday the 30th!


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  7. #327
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    5 kilometers southwest of Balta
    April 23, 1936


    Three men stood at the table, leaning over the map spread across its surface. Between them, these three men had twenty divisions under their command, yet not one of them held a higher rank than that of Major General. Purkaev and Ryabyshev were commanders of 82nd and 83rd Rifle Corps, part of the 2nd Ukrainian Front. Though these two corps comprised only a single division each, due to STAVKA’s insistence on tailoring up and coming officers to deployments rather than drawing from its already great array of officers, these two men together directed the entire front. The 2nd Ukrainian Front consisted of seven corps at the time, comprised of seven divisions. Of these, three corps were deployed at Vinnitsa on the border with Poland, they were the 13th, 16th and 69th Rifle Corps. The rest of the front—the 10th, the 82nd and the 83rd Corps—was at Mogilev Podolski and overlooking the Romanian border. Also at Mogilev Podolski was a fourth corps, the 4th Motorized Rifle Corps.

    The third man at the table was Tamruchi of the 3rd Ukrainian Front. In addition to commanding the Front’s 9th Corps, he was also the man who directed the entire front and its seven corps and seven divisions; these were the 9th, 85th and 86th Rifle Corps at Balta and the 6th, 7th and 8th Rifle Corps at Odessa, which was also where the 5th Motorized Rifle Corps had been deployed. The 3rd Ukrainian Front, like the 2nd, was also short on manpower and had only seven divisions spread across seven corps. Tamruchi, however, had the additional burden of coordinating another force as well; this was the 2nd Shock Army. The 2nd Shock Army was comprised of six divisions spread across three corps, the 3rd, 5th and 8th Shock Corps. As with both the 2nd and 3rd Ukrainian Fronts and the majority of the Rifle Corps within them, the 2nd Shock Army did not have any commanders.

    And it was with such stretched command resources that the Soviet Union would invade Romania and attempt to reclaim Bessarabia.

    Their three divisional staffs were to coordinate one and a half Fronts and an Army. It was fortunate for them, then, that the Romanians were throwing virtually all their resources in striving to halt the German advance. To their border with the Soviet Union the Romanians had consigned two weak cavalry divisions, neither of them stronger than a brigade in actuality. The thin Romanian defenses quite naturally made a difficult task much easier, and the three generals at the table were properly thankful for it.

    Purkaev stared at the map, his eyes tracing the German advance into Romania. “As you two know, we have three objectives. These are the cities of Beltsy, Chisinev and Ismail. These the Romanians stole from us after the Great War and we must retake them!”

    Sighing and scratching his chin, Tamruchi spoke up. “Yes Purkaev, we know. The question is whether or not we are satisfied with our operational plan as it is now. We know that Stalin has placed some arbitrary value on Chisinev. Thus, Ryabyshev and I will take seventeen divisions and attack straight across the Prut River. At the same time, your three divisions will cross the Prut to the north and attack toward Beltsy. Given that each of our forces will have motorized elements, conquest should be quick.”

    “Reports show that the are around Beltsy is muddy, this will undoubtedly slow down the 4th Motorized Rifle Corps to a crawl. Given how strict our timetable might be after the fall of Chisinev, as that removes the requirement that the Germans conquer it, then we will perhaps have only days to occupy Beltsy and Ismail. I am worried that this may not be enough.”

    Ryabyshev, who had been examining the map silently during the exchange, spoke up. “Yes, you’ve brought up these concerns earlier. However, the Germans seem to be stuck, their positions have not changed in days, possibly in over a week. A breakthrough for them seems increasingly unlikely. We have time to conquer your mud, which in any case is also days-old intelligence. It’s probably not even there any more.”

    Purkaev grunted. “My lookouts say differently.”

    “It’s too late anyway, Litvinov has stated that the declaration of war will be delivered at 0500 and it’s already 0430. We cannot actually change anything without seriously upsetting our timetable worse than mud could in any case. Our troops have finished moving into their jump off positions. One word from each of us and the invasion will go ahead.”

    Stepping backwards away from the table, Tamruchi stretched and yawned. “I wouldn’t mind giving the word now and then going to sleep for half an hour. My aide could wake me up once the artillery starts, if that itself doesn’t wake me first.”

    He glanced at his two compatriots before continuing. “You know, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll make the arrangements with my staff outside right now.”

    Purkaev opened his mouth as if to say something, but Tamruchi was already striding out the door. Ryabyshev shrugged. “He does have the right idea, admittedly. We can do nothing more now but wait, and sleep would come well to us after many long nights of hard work planning this. I think that I will give the final word as well, set for 0500, and sleep as well.”

    Soon, Purkaev was left standing alone in the room as Ryabyshev also walked out. He bit his lip and looked at the map. The mud greatly concerned him, he doubted that he would be able to occupy Beltsy before the Germans marched into Bucharest. He had seen the latest intelligence, that supposedly the other two commanders had also taken note of: the Germans had defeated Romanian forces in Sibiu and Brasov. The highway to Ploesti and Bucharest had been torn open and the Soviets had only a week or two to act, if even that long. Purkaev sighed, sometimes he worried that Ryabyshev and Tamruchi simply could not see, or refused to. He was worried that they were not good generals.

    He did not know how long he stood there, but eventually he too gave the order. He did not go to sleep, however, but went outside and looked toward Beltsy. The artillery was already thundering its chorus.


    The invasion of Romania.
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  8. #328
    Outrageously Humorous Title Discomb's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Myth
    “However, the Germans seem to be stuck, their positions have not changed in days, possibly in over a week. A breakthrough for them seems increasingly unlikely.”
    His logic couldn't be more wrong. If I've not moved in a week, it means I'm rearranging and reorganizing my forces, meaning they will be able to strike with renewed vigor very soon.

  9. #329
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    What's a cute girl like her doing with a HOI grognard like you?

    Really, all the best, and have fun.

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  10. #330
    Spectre of Battle grayghost's Avatar

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    So, we add whats left of Romania to your list of enemies. This will put your border right up against the Germans. How long before the serious hostilities start?
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  11. #331
    Sneaky Cultist General Jac's Avatar
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    Im looking forward to seeing that gray landmass colliding with your red landmass soon Myth .
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  12. #332
    Revolutionary Leader VILenin's Avatar
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  13. #333
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  14. #334
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    Discomb: ah hah

    ColossusCrusher: she doesn't mind that I'm a hoi grognard. in fact, she was kind of interested in the game herself. or, at least, me playing the game

    grayghost: serious hostilities will start in '42, so still quite a while

    General Jac: oh yes

    VILenin: kind of I'm partially role-playing here, STAVKA is prescient enough to know that the major generals of today are the generals of tomorrow so they're the ones getting command experience etc and hopefully auto-promote will sort them out

    rcduggan: we did, thanks

    so as you can see, I'm back now. the next update will come in a bit!
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  15. #335
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    12 Kilometers south of Konya
    May 5, 1936


    Kuznetsov stared at the report in his fist. It was crumpled and slightly torn, being the victim of his directionless, futile rage. He had spent the past half hour attempting to contain his anger. Such efforts had proved themselves vain, however, as he could not calm himself without venting it toward something. Kuznetsov was a firm believer in not shooting the messenger. Instead, he attacked the message itself. The one pristine sheet of paper was quickly ripped and wrinkled as it suffered his wrath. He knew it was irrational, that there was no use in his fury. Kuznetsov cast the paper down, watching with childish malice as it bounced and rolled across the table and fell off the other side onto the floor. Kuznetsov closed his eyes, took a deep breath and sighed harshly. A shiver ran down his spine.

    Suddenly he felt very aware of himself. He slowly rocked his head back and forth, his eyes still closed, and breathed deeply to calm himself. Shivers continued to wrack his body, one extraordinarily strong one not only creeping along his spine but forcing his shoulders to spasm momentarily. The feeling shuddered down his arms as well, and Kuznetsov yawned before collapsing into his chair. Though the shivers continued, he knew his rage was over. He had no energy left, his emotions were spent. As he yawned again, he felt very silly for having acted in such a way and bent over to pick up the crumpled ball of paper. Setting it gently on the table, he uncrumpled it and smoothed it down as best he could. He suddenly felt very keenly for the familiar sights of the Caucasus Mountains and the eastern coast of the Black Sea and wished that he was back at his dacha just outside Sochi.

    He knew this was not possible, however. Not until Turkey was finally taken care of, at least, and it seemed increasingly unlikely that this would happen. Turkey’s neighbors were finally acting. Berman had ridden into Istanbul on the 30th but had immediately come under attack from Bulgarian forces under the command of the Bulgarian king Boris III. At that point, Romania was still a free country. Berman’s cavalry had fought as best it could but they were outnumbered by a factor of two and forced to defend two of the three approaches to the city, thus requiring that they be split. Berman’s men had fought valiantly, however, and only broke after thirty-six hours of heavy combat.

    That was when the bad news became a landslide. On the 3rd, German forces had broken the final defensive ring around Bucharest and the next day annexed the country. Then came a report from Panteleiev that his lookouts had sighted a German armored corps at Constanta. It seemed obvious to Kuznetsov that they would make a push for Istanbul; only four Bulgarian divisions stood at Varna, between perhaps the single most effective formation in the German army and the prize of the Bosporus strait. The Bulgarian divisions were even facing southward, meaning that the Germans would hit them in the rear. That was worrying enough but, Kuznetsov sighed, there was more. As always.

    Deev had arrived in Istanbul early on the 5th but his tired troops had immediately been engaged by joint Bulgarian-Greek forces, which were ostensibly all under the command of the Bulgarian king. Rather than facing six Bulgarian divisions on two raods, his mountaineers faced eleven Bulgarian and Greek divisions on three roads.


    Deev’s mountaineers desperately defending Istanbul as Greek forces threaten the Turkish west coast and German armored formations make ready for another blitzkrieg.

    Kuznetsov knew that Deev would be defeated within hours; he doubted that they would last until midnight, if he was honest with himself. And then Istanbul would fall to either Greek or Bulgarian forces and the Germans would push southward and take Istanbul for themselves. Kuznetsov could see these events flashing before his eyes, which were widening in horror. As he stared, his seeing utterly consumed by such visions, they became more and more grotesque. He could already see the firing squad lining up, he could hear the order being given. His name was already being struck out of the STAVKA roster, his dacha at Sochi would be taken by another or fall into disrepair and dilapidate over the years. He could hear the shots, the knock of the rifles.

    Knock?

    With a gasp, the Kuznetsov toppled from his chair, flinging his arms about wildly before he hit the ground. He lay there panting for a moment, staring wide-eyed at the door. The NKVD had come already; they were going to drag him away. He knew it. His heartbeat began racing, and he pulled at the table, dragging himself into a standing position, as the knocking continued. Leaning precariously on the table, unwilling to fully trust his legs, Kuznetsov tried speaking but found that he had no voice. He cleared his throat with a cough and tried again. “E-enter!”

    The door swung open and Kuznetsov saw a man of his corps staff, carrying a wooden case. The man smiled. “Sir! I’m sorry to disturb you, but we just received this case of vodka from Moscow. It’s for you, sir. I’ll just put it on the table.”

    With that, he placed it gently down, opened the lid and saluted, before about-facing and striding out. As the door closed behind the man, Kuznetsov stared at the vodka with a violent mixture of horror and fascination. The NKVD had known all along, and they had sent him poisoned vodka. Kuznetsov’s breathing deepened and became ragged. Vodka. He could barely remember the last time he had had it. He could see the precious liquid gently sloshing still from being placed down on the table, silently inviting him to drink it. He stared at it.

    He raised his arm, reaching out to the opposite end of the table. His hand was shaking violently. He attempted to grasp one of the two vodka bottles by the neck but did not trust himself not to drop it onto the table and break it. Instead, he grabbed the case and pulled it toward him with all his weight. This effort threw him back into his chair, but the vodka was within comfortable reach. He stared at it for several minutes before finally trying to lift a bottle out. Gently placing it on the table upright, he returned to his staring. His heartbeat was racing; he could feel it pounding against his ribcage. He took out the shot glass from his pocket, where it had resided for a great while unused, and slowly poured himself a shot. He stared some more.

    Kuznetsov took a deep breath and picked up the shot. The trembling of his hand was threatening to spill vodka across his lap. He licked his lips, unsure.

    He downed it.
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  16. #336
    Spectre of Battle grayghost's Avatar

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    You know, I dont know if it was intended, but that had to be the single most hilarious thing you have ever written. Watching the antics of the paranoid, withdrawel suffering General Kutzenov, I didn't know whether to cry for the man or laugh me head off. I opted for the later.

    The NKVD had known all along, and they had sent him poisoned vodka.
    That's the line that really had me rolling. If humor was intended, great job. If you were trying to garner sympathy for the man, well...I'm a sick puppy.
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  17. #337
    Sneaky Cultist General Jac's Avatar
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    Kutzenov seems to be suffering from extreme paranoia, just like me really............they are out to get me you know all of them .


    *Puts on tinfoil-hat*.
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  18. #338
    Revolutionary Leader VILenin's Avatar
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    Yeah, he's definitely not bearing the stress well. But no man should have to lead an army sober. So maybe now that he's got his precious vodka back things will get better. Or maybe it really IS poisonned.

    And good luck with auto-promote; in my games as the Soviets it never seems to work for me. I'm stuck with Lt. General Zhukov who has 7 exp that I don't want to sacrifice by promoting him but who auto-promote stubbornly refuses to even look at.
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  19. #339
    Outrageously Humorous Title Discomb's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by VILenin
    I'm stuck with Lt. General Zhukov who has 7 exp
    I hope you mean 7 skill

  20. #340
    Revolutionary Leader VILenin's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Discomb
    I hope you mean 7 skill
    Erm, that is to say, 7 Exp on TOP of 7 Skill
    "Being a freedom fighter, a force for good, it's a wonderful thing. You get to make your own hours, it looks good on a resume, but the pay sucks."

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