What is this? A cease fire? Can't be. You just won the battle! 
Nice to see Nikifor getting in there at the end. Brave, plucky man he is.
Nice to see Nikifor getting in there at the end. Brave, plucky man he is.
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peace now would be a bit of an anti-climax. or is this the bit of the lan game where you finally ran out of time / discomb collapsed under the weight of lack of sleep and too much junk food?
Don't worry, unconditional surrender often comes as a shock to common soldiers, but in the greater strategic plan it is often the more sensible move.
In what way, if I may be so bold? In the way that your country gets ripped apart by four different powers and into two ideologically opposed nations?
coz1: He is, somehow. Originally I hadn't planned to write about the third day of battle, but it just kind of came anyway. As for what the loudspeakers are all about, we'll see
BritishImperial: Why do you assume it's peace?
Discomb: Yes
trekaddict: Yeah, and suffer for fifty years but then the oppressive power collapses and the two halves rejoin to become an economic powerhouse that nearly dominates Europe without even wanting to, domination which was at the forefront of its desires in both World Wars
Update tomorrow!
BritishImperial: Why do you assume it's peace?
Discomb: Yes
trekaddict: Yeah, and suffer for fifty years but then the oppressive power collapses and the two halves rejoin to become an economic powerhouse that nearly dominates Europe without even wanting to, domination which was at the forefront of its desires in both World Wars
Update tomorrow!
trekaddict: Yeah, and suffer for fifty years but then the oppressive power collapses and the two halves rejoin to become an economic powerhouse that nearly dominates Europe without even wanting to, domination which was at the forefront of its desires in both World Wars
And which is only achieved when it no longer desires it.
Yeah. Talk about irony. Germany and Japan are in the Top 5 in the economy list, and they got there completely by accident.
Talk about bounce-back capability (and some American money).
Talk about bounce-back capability (and some American money)
.
trekaddict: Oh no, it's not that. It's just that they've learned their lesson now. They're biding their time
ColossusCrusher: That too
Today's update will be a short, simple one, because its eloquence stands alone.
ColossusCrusher: That too
Today's update will be a short, simple one, because its eloquence stands alone.
What the hell...?
edit:just reread the last update,now it finally makes sense.Did discomb and his brother realised that resistance is futile?
Fapu: Well, I won at Bialytok. Discomb lost 48 divisions there: 32 armored divisions and 16 motorized divisions.
4th Dimension: Of the world? No. Of the game? Yes. Of the AAR? Not quite.
Discomb:
I'll try to have an update for tomorrow, since if I don't the next update will probably be Sunday at earliest (I'm flying back to England Thursday evening/Friday morning).
4th Dimension: Of the world? No. Of the game? Yes. Of the AAR? Not quite.
Discomb:
I'll try to have an update for tomorrow, since if I don't the next update will probably be Sunday at earliest (I'm flying back to England Thursday evening/Friday morning).
All you now need to do is to post some comments on the game, the ending situation and stuff lol. That would be a fine end. And the last battle would also be fine where you destroy the divisions.
Wow, I finally come back and what do I get? Basicly a "Doors" song, namely..."This is the end".
And to Discomb I say. "Defeat? bah! Surrender? henh! A Nazi craves not these things." Although the fact the Helsinki is still in the hands of the Japanese is quite amusing.
And to Discomb I say. "Defeat? bah! Surrender? henh! A Nazi craves not these things." Although the fact the Helsinki is still in the hands of the Japanese is quite amusing.
I AM NOT SATISFIED BUUUUUUU :sad:
this aar have been around to long to be ended with some status quo!
i would go for at least annex of germany!
:sad:this aar have been around to long to be ended with some status quo!
i would go for at least annex of germany!
What, no desperate, last-ditch, fight to finish, sacrifice every man in defense of the fatherland? Pfft, and I thought it was a life-or-death struggle between bitter ideological enemies, not some jolly romp in the fields.
Very well written battle scenes, though i imagine the soldiers will be as surprised by peace as I was. I hope the Soviets at least impose some stiff conditions for the post-war.
Very well written battle scenes, though i imagine the soldiers will be as surprised by peace as I was.
I hope the Soviets at least impose some stiff conditions for the post-war.oh no !
and i thought u said the british player was no good !!! lol who would have thought diving 48 armored/ motorised into a swamp , would end like this ? and with no fuel either ! :rofl::rofl: :rofl: ! but was a great read .... even if it took so long ! and ended so sudenly ok tc fella
and i thought u said the british player was no good !!! lol who would have thought diving 48 armored/ motorised into a swamp , would end like this ? and with no fuel either ! :rofl::rofl: :rofl: ! but was a great read .... even if it took so long ! and ended so sudenly ok tc fella
Delex: That was the last battle. The one and only screenshot of it I had I showed before all the soldier updates, and only the peace screenshot was left. But yes, there are still a couple updates to go
grayghost: Eek its a ghost! So, back for the closing updates of the AAR, huh? Did you actually catch up or just skip to this point in time?
Deus Eversor: Well, he is a puppet, and his army's been disbanded. What more can you want?
VILenin: Nope, Bialystok was the grand finale. It wasn't quite a jolly romp in the fields, but it did have more in common with the wars of Louis XIV than the Second World War. Except for the stunning victory at Bialystok and the completely disporportionate peace I imposed on Germany
wim butler: The British player did suck. In face, somehow he actually dropped out of the war about a month in and decided not to keep playing so the British because even more useless as they were commanded by an incompetent AI. And yes, the ending was quite sudden. I didn't expect it to end so quickly either, but it makes sense from Discomb's point of view. His army wasn't strong enough to even defend Germany any more, much less try to keep up his invasion of the Soviet Union. So he sued for peace
Update coming up!
grayghost: Eek its a ghost!
So, back for the closing updates of the AAR, huh? Did you actually catch up or just skip to this point in time? Deus Eversor: Well, he is a puppet, and his army's been disbanded. What more can you want?
VILenin: Nope, Bialystok was the grand finale. It wasn't quite a jolly romp in the fields, but it did have more in common with the wars of Louis XIV than the Second World War. Except for the stunning victory at Bialystok and the completely disporportionate peace I imposed on Germany
wim butler: The British player did suck. In face, somehow he actually dropped out of the war about a month in and decided not to keep playing so the British because even more useless as they were commanded by an incompetent AI. And yes, the ending was quite sudden. I didn't expect it to end so quickly either, but it makes sense from Discomb's point of view. His army wasn't strong enough to even defend Germany any more, much less try to keep up his invasion of the Soviet Union. So he sued for peace
Update coming up!
17 kilometers southeast of Bialystok
June 20th, 1988
Gorbachev’s speech had finally come to an end, and the veterans broke up into their own mingling groups to look over the vast area that once encompassed a single desperate battle. Twenty-three old men, all of them aged over sixty-five years, decided to return to Hill 331. The Red Army had kindly supplied troop transports, of wartime vintage, and drivers to give the veterans a mobility reminiscent of their own time in the army. Nikifor Talenskij, Andrei Suvorin, Evgenij Bessonov were among those who returned to the hill, taking with them Arsenij Chafirov and Vadim Radek. The truck halted on the road where an entire column of transports had been ambushed by Germans forty-six years earlier. The old men gingerly piled out and began walking the battlefield in their own groups. Thirteen of them had actually participated in the actual fighting there; the other ten had missed the fighting and were living the events through their old comrades’ words.
Suvorin had taken the lead, his instinctive leadership asserting itself, in pointing out features reminiscent of the war. “It was here,” his gestures indicated lines in the ground, “where there was the first trench. There was a wooden pillbox over there, though we didn’t have to take it. They must have had four machine guns in the area. We had to use smoke to finally approach it.”
Nikifor nodded. “Yes. At that point, it was Suvorin and I who actually assaulted the trench, followed closely by Bessonov and Ilya. Irinei, Valeri and Timur had been pressed by Brezhnev into giving covering fire.” Nikifor halted in confusion for a moment. “Bessonov? What happened to Timur? That was the last time I saw him. He never made it up to the front with the rest of them.”
Bessonov’s face tightened sadly. “A stray German shell killed him, I think. I’m not entirely sure myself. They were coming up with others and an explosion struck nearby. Nobody noticed at the time since we were too intent on advancing quickly, but later on only his spine was found.”
Everyone shook their head at the casual brutality of war. The moment passed; they each were burdened with too many memories of carnage and friends killed already. They continued their ponderous walking, taking care not to trip amongst the low ditches that were once formidable German trenches. Suvorin continued his narrative, in a slightly more somber tone. Finally they reached the location of the last German trench. Before them they saw a hill. Of the five faces, three hardened at the sight and two simply looked curious, though with some understanding of what was to come. Nikifor and Suvorin looked at each other and finally Nikifor took up the narrative. “It was just our luck. The only hill in Belarus and we had to take it from, what, fourteen German tanks? It didn’t help that Brezhnev screwed up the smoke screen and artillery bombardment. The battalion had to charge it unaided. Does anyone know what’s happened to Brezhnev anyway?”
The change in narrative took everyone by surprise and they looked to each other before Vadim finally replied. “I think he was purged in Stalin’s Great Purge, in 1951. That was the year, of course, that the Germans finally paid off their reparations and were able to assert their independence from Moscow. Stalin did not take that news too well.”
“And Brezhnev suffered?”
“Yes. I think he was in charge of the reparations committee, or essentially of making the reparations period as long as costly as possible for the Germans. Apparently it wasn’t enough for Stalin.”
“Well, good riddance.” Everyone nodded.
Bessonov took this moment to continue the narrative. “We had to take the hill unaided. The battalion lost a lot of men. Simbirsk was killed near the foot of the hill. It was here were Andrei lost his arm to shrapnel. Well, it was lost in the surgery that followed, but the wound was here, as we were crawling up the slope. Once we reached the top though, we destroyed all the tanks. But there were, of course, many more beyond and we had lost good men.”
The veterans were slowly climbing up the hill themselves. Finally reaching the top, winded by the long climb, they saw that a monument had been erected. The men looked up at it, the gray stone from which it was carved. It showed heroic Soviet soldiers climbing up a slope, the lower reaches covered with the dead. It was flanked by two shattered, twisted forms that had once been actual German tanks. Suvorin quietly noted, “The monument shows it well. This is how it happened.”
The men bowed their heads, in remembrance of the terrible fighting for the hill, of the battle and of the war as a whole. Too many good men had died, men who were a wealth beyond any German reparations.
June 20th, 1988
Gorbachev’s speech had finally come to an end, and the veterans broke up into their own mingling groups to look over the vast area that once encompassed a single desperate battle. Twenty-three old men, all of them aged over sixty-five years, decided to return to Hill 331. The Red Army had kindly supplied troop transports, of wartime vintage, and drivers to give the veterans a mobility reminiscent of their own time in the army. Nikifor Talenskij, Andrei Suvorin, Evgenij Bessonov were among those who returned to the hill, taking with them Arsenij Chafirov and Vadim Radek. The truck halted on the road where an entire column of transports had been ambushed by Germans forty-six years earlier. The old men gingerly piled out and began walking the battlefield in their own groups. Thirteen of them had actually participated in the actual fighting there; the other ten had missed the fighting and were living the events through their old comrades’ words.
Suvorin had taken the lead, his instinctive leadership asserting itself, in pointing out features reminiscent of the war. “It was here,” his gestures indicated lines in the ground, “where there was the first trench. There was a wooden pillbox over there, though we didn’t have to take it. They must have had four machine guns in the area. We had to use smoke to finally approach it.”
Nikifor nodded. “Yes. At that point, it was Suvorin and I who actually assaulted the trench, followed closely by Bessonov and Ilya. Irinei, Valeri and Timur had been pressed by Brezhnev into giving covering fire.” Nikifor halted in confusion for a moment. “Bessonov? What happened to Timur? That was the last time I saw him. He never made it up to the front with the rest of them.”
Bessonov’s face tightened sadly. “A stray German shell killed him, I think. I’m not entirely sure myself. They were coming up with others and an explosion struck nearby. Nobody noticed at the time since we were too intent on advancing quickly, but later on only his spine was found.”
Everyone shook their head at the casual brutality of war. The moment passed; they each were burdened with too many memories of carnage and friends killed already. They continued their ponderous walking, taking care not to trip amongst the low ditches that were once formidable German trenches. Suvorin continued his narrative, in a slightly more somber tone. Finally they reached the location of the last German trench. Before them they saw a hill. Of the five faces, three hardened at the sight and two simply looked curious, though with some understanding of what was to come. Nikifor and Suvorin looked at each other and finally Nikifor took up the narrative. “It was just our luck. The only hill in Belarus and we had to take it from, what, fourteen German tanks? It didn’t help that Brezhnev screwed up the smoke screen and artillery bombardment. The battalion had to charge it unaided. Does anyone know what’s happened to Brezhnev anyway?”
The change in narrative took everyone by surprise and they looked to each other before Vadim finally replied. “I think he was purged in Stalin’s Great Purge, in 1951. That was the year, of course, that the Germans finally paid off their reparations and were able to assert their independence from Moscow. Stalin did not take that news too well.”
“And Brezhnev suffered?”
“Yes. I think he was in charge of the reparations committee, or essentially of making the reparations period as long as costly as possible for the Germans. Apparently it wasn’t enough for Stalin.”
“Well, good riddance.” Everyone nodded.
Bessonov took this moment to continue the narrative. “We had to take the hill unaided. The battalion lost a lot of men. Simbirsk was killed near the foot of the hill. It was here were Andrei lost his arm to shrapnel. Well, it was lost in the surgery that followed, but the wound was here, as we were crawling up the slope. Once we reached the top though, we destroyed all the tanks. But there were, of course, many more beyond and we had lost good men.”
The veterans were slowly climbing up the hill themselves. Finally reaching the top, winded by the long climb, they saw that a monument had been erected. The men looked up at it, the gray stone from which it was carved. It showed heroic Soviet soldiers climbing up a slope, the lower reaches covered with the dead. It was flanked by two shattered, twisted forms that had once been actual German tanks. Suvorin quietly noted, “The monument shows it well. This is how it happened.”
The men bowed their heads, in remembrance of the terrible fighting for the hill, of the battle and of the war as a whole. Too many good men had died, men who were a wealth beyond any German reparations.