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Thread: Weltkriegschaft

  1. #1501
    American Fascist Slaughts's Avatar
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    Really making me work my mind mate

    Can it be Donald Hardman?
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  2. #1502
    It's 1:40 AM here, and I'm supposed to read how many thousands of words?

    I'll get to it in the morning... maybe...

  3. #1503
    Human Enewald's Avatar
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    Woah, that was long.
    But also entertaining.

    I would have lied till the end. Maybe.

    Or Geier could have offered to become a turncoat. Make the british think that he be a turncoat, while telling his boss that he can work as a triple-agent.

  4. #1504
    Kanil - Thanks, I'm glad you look at it the same way I do. And the Hong Kong update is one of my personal favorites -- good to see that you found it memorable. I can say that there are 3 strange occurrences throughout the game, of which that one's the first. The next one is a rather bizarre surprise, but let's just say that a modern DNA test could solve the whole thing .

    xtfoster - Thanks for your readership and enthusiasm!

    KLorberau - Your wish is my command...

    Slaughts - Nope. But good guess .

    dublish - It's been up for a whole day dontcha know! At any rate, I figure you'd rather be faced with something many thousands of words long (just shy of 10,000, for the record) than a 1000 word lightweight about Trommler and a few VB clippings after more than a month's wait .

    Enewald - Great new avatar, Enewald! Glad you enjoyed it! I expect most people think that they would lie until the end -- I fancy that I would too -- but the devilish part of the British interrogation techniques is to convince you that there's no longer anything to possibly be gained by doing so. It's a hard thing to do, but about the only thing short of physical torture with any hope of breaking a professional spy like Geier.

    We shall see what's in store for Geier in the future... The danger with triple agents is that by the time someone sees that you're willing to "turn" twice, why not three or four or five times. Such "ping pong agents" wind up spinning webs so complex that no one trusts them, and then it's time for a hood and a long drop
    Weltkriegschaft
    The Alternate History of the Third Reich

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  5. #1505
    American Fascist Slaughts's Avatar
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    You mentioned that he wasn't known for his midwar job in intelligence, but it made me think that it is a Air Chief Marshal with at least some bit of intelligence experience. The only guy with that I'm really finding at the moment is William Dickson so is it him?
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  6. #1506
    Nope. But I admire the knowledge demonstrated by your previous guesses .

    This is the Wing Commander, I believe about 15 years later OTL.

    Weltkriegschaft
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  7. #1507
    American Fascist Slaughts's Avatar
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    Looks like Harry Broadhurst to me
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  8. #1508
    Good old Broady is actually a mere flight lieutenant at this point, actually. What's more, he's currently an - ahem - guest of the Third Reich at the moment. We heard about him two updates ago, actually, while Reinert was listening to News in English:



    Reinert looked through the glass and saw the broadcaster hold a type-written list in front of himself and began to read. A moment later, the speaker in the control room crackled again with his ponderous, refined baritone.

    “Flight Lieutenant Cecil Cameron, of No. 46 Squadron, was shot down over the Channel, and parachuted safely out of his burning aeroplane. He was rescued and treated for minor injuries.

    “Flight Lieutenant Harry Broadhurst, of No. 80 Squadron, was shot down over the Channel, but parachuted into the water unharmed. He was rescued by a German Navy cutter.

    “Flight Sergeant Ronald Dawes, of No. 10 Squadron, was shot down as his Heyford went about its mission to bomb France. He was quickly captured and treated for a badly broken leg and other injuries. The three other members of the crew of this aircraft, identified as Flight Sergeant Graeme Wood, Pilot Officer Charles Stuart Miles, and Flight Lieutenant William Baker, the aircraft’s commander, were all killed in the crash.

    “Finally we report that a Flight Sergeant John Erickson, reported on the RAF missing list since October, has been confirmed to have been captured, and is receiving treatment in hospital for major injuries sustained in aerial combat."




    Next update going up now!
    Weltkriegschaft
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  9. #1509

    Chapter III: Part XXX

    Chapter III: The Lion’s Den

    Part XXX


    November 9, 1936

    This was it. Following weeks of speculation, 1. Panzer Regiment, 2. Panzer-Division had been mustered from its quarters outside Brugge, Free Belgium, and onto waiting northbound trains that hissed white steam as hundreds of men poured onto them.

    Günther Taubert stood on the crowded platform with his rucksack over his shoulder. A major was standing at the door of one of the railroad cars, calling out orders to the black-uniformed panzer men as they listened expectantly for their units to be called. The wooden cars were windowless, with faded, peeling paint -- one yellow, another brown, two more russet. They looked like they had once served as cattle cars. An officer had said that this was for secrecy, so that any British reconnaissance planes wouldn’t realize the trains’ true purpose.



    Cars bound to take German soldiers north.


    “2. Panzer Kompanie, I. Abteilung,” called the major, reading from a clipboard, “third car!”

    “Second Company,” roared Hauptmann Bruckelt with his cigar still clenched between his teeth, “out!”

    The men surged forward, squeezing through the open doors of a battered brown car, until Bruckelt came on, followed by the Hauptfeldwebel. Pulling out his own list, the Hauptfeldwebel -- called “The Horse” by all the men -- called roll. When he had finished, the men of the company spread out as much as was possible in the cramped car and tried to find comfortable positions. There was still a loud rumble of chatter from the men outside waiting to board the train, but this diminished in increments as the other companies boarded. At last, a military conductor came aboard, and after conferring with Bruckelt briefly, closed and locked the car’s sliding doors. The men could hear clatter after clatter as the conductor closed the doors on the cars behind them. And then, the conductor’s shrill whistle.

    The locomotive’s deeper two-tone whistle sounded twice in reply, and then came the sound of the pistons. The car lurched forward, sending a cheer through the company. The men listened eagerly -- the chugs of the engine grew louder and faster as the train picked up speed. After some minutes, the novelty had worn off, and a clear voice at the back of the car began to sing.

    “A call roars like thunderbolt,

    Like clashing swords and splashing waves:

    To the Rhine, the Rhine, to the German Rhine,

    Who guards tonight my stream divine?”


    The other men joined him, filling the car with the swelling melody of Die Wacht am Rhein.

    “Dear fatherland, put your mind at rest,

    Dear fatherland, put your mind at rest,

    Fast stands, and true, the Watch, the Watch at the Rhine!

    Fast stands, and true, the Watch, the Watch at the Rhine!”


    The men swung lustily into the Panzerlied, and two repetitions of the national anthem. This was followed by folk songs, and soon drinking songs, but as these wore on, the number of voices dwindled, until there was again silence. Taubert sat placidly on his pack. It was afternoon, and an unusually warm sun was making the air in the car uncomfortable.

    “Do you believe that we will be the tip of the invasion?”

    Taubert turned to find Oberleutnant Bauer close to his ear. “Maybe. It’s hard to say.”

    “From the radio, I’m absolutely certain that the invasion will begin within forty-eight hours.”

    It indeed seemed almost inevitable. After threats and hysteria ever since the fire in Berlin, German buildup for an invasion of Denmark had now reached a crescendo. Leave had been cancelled since the first of November, and the tanks had all undergone special maintenance. And then, the Reich had issued a final ultimatum: hand over those responsible for the Leopoldplatz Fire to German authorities and expel all British warships from territorial waters within forty-eight hours or the Wehrmacht will be called upon to enforce Danish neutrality. It was clear, though, to all the men what this meant. Hitler wanted war with the pro-British Danes before they could lend their country to the British as a staging ground for invading Germany. The demands were obviously unreasonable, and there now seemed nothing standing in the way of war. Taubert could feel the taut, coiling energy of the Armed Forces, so strong that it surely could not be held back for more than another day.

    Low talk resumed as the train wound its way north -- about home, mostly. Men stared at tiny photographs or reread folded letters. The company was confident, though. It was considered unlikely that the Danes had any working tanks, and so whatever combat they faced would likely be safer than that in France months before. Still, though, they had suffered losses on the drive into Amsterdam. British naval guns. Would they come again? Each man had his own certainties about that question.

    More attention was spent on the start date of the invasion. That morning, there had been a broadcast from Munich -- the Führer was to make his annual visit to the Bürgerbräukeller, from which he had staged a failed Putsch exactly thirteen years before. Five years before that, the radio didn’t have to remind listeners, the Kaiser’s monarchy had fallen in disgrace, bringing devastating defeat upon Germany. Perhaps, some men ventured, the invasion would begin that very night, to coincide with the two anniversaries. Whatever it was, the senior officers were acting exceedingly strangely, and it was clear to everyone that something big was afoot. Hauptmann Bruckelt, Taubert was sure, knew little more than his men, but Bruckelt’s superiors had been continually locked in a sort of conspiratorial buzzing for the past two days. Maybe tonight.

    The sunlight began to redden and then to fade, and soon deep gloom descended upon the unlit car. Taubert saw that other men were curling up on the dusty floor -- the lucky ones sat with their backs to the walls -- trying to catch some sleep. He softened a hollow in his rucksack, and laid down his head. The last thing he saw was The Horse standing at the front of the car, reading reports by a dim flashlight.

    A keening wail from the locomotive’s whistle jarred him back awake. For a moment he was confused about where he was, and whether it was still the same day. Memory washed back into his mind. It was too dark to see his wristwatch, but it was night. He could now hear the whine of the brakes being gently applied, and the train noticeably slowed. The other men were waking up too -- standing, shouldering their rucksacks and conversing quietly.

    The train clattered over a short trestle, and then slowed to a crawl, making several winding turns. At last, the whistle blew again, the brakes screeched and the whole train shuddered to a stop. Taubert could hear the doors of other cars being thrown open, and within seconds, their own car’s door was opened. Bruckelt ordered everyone out.

    They poured out under the starry sky, and onto a concrete platform that was adjacent to a wide stretch of docks. The company came to formation.

    “Where are we?” The whisper spread quickly among the assembled men. The murmured answer came quickly -- Wilhelmshaven.

    Gorgeted Feldgendarmes stood vigilantly at the periphery of the platform with submachine guns drawn. Taubert saw one of them, an officer, approach Hauptmann Bruckelt. Moments later, Bruckelt ordered them to move out. They followed the Feldgendarme officer off the platform -- Taubert could see that other companies were being led similarly -- and along an asphalt path that ran beside the docks. The column passed a large warehouse which had been blocking their view of the water, and they saw it.

    A colossal dark shape sat in the water to their right. Taubert craned his head upward -- it had two low funnels and unusually short masts. It looked like a liner, but was much larger than anything he had seen in his life. Several gangplanks were crowded with men boarding the great vessel, and as the Feldgendarme led 2. Panzer Kompanie towards the nearest of these, Taubert could make out what appeared to be heavy gun emplacements both fore and aft.

    Soon, the gangplank was beneath his boots, and he felt himself ascending high into the air. With pounding heart, he came at last onto the deck, where the men of the company were herded toward the stern to make way for other men streaming onto the ship from the trains.

    Taubert looked out over the railing. Two other large vessels were receiving troops at the other side of the naval base, and a clutch of warships that appeared to be destroyers were already out in the harbor. The waiting out on the exposed deck bored the men, but the air wasn’t cold, and so an hour passed quickly before they were sent below and assigned quarters. No sooner had they thrown down their rucksacks when a major came down to summon them.

    The junior officers with whom Taubert was sharing quarters saw the named fittings and informed him that they were aboard the SS Europa. “The sister ship of the Bremen,” one said, “the one that the British captured.”

    By the time they reached the promenade deck of the great liner, they could see that the sailors were casting off the lines, lowering the gangplanks and locking their gates. A few tugs could be seen puttering in the dark below the ship. The Europa seemed to be making ready for departure. “This way,” Major Gaertner said, leading them down a passageway and into what had once been the grand dining room. The furniture and paneling where all gone now, though.

    It took some time for the regiment’s 2,960 men to muster in the vast space. Taubert’s company was positioned toward the front, where he could see, as the hubbub died down, the man emerge who was to address them.

    The regiment’s commander, Oberst Harpe, was not a man with a soldierly face, but normally compensated for this with soldierly dress and appearance. He was commonly seen in his dress uniform, World War One medals pinned to his chest to vouch for cheeks that had grown soft in the Interbellum; commonly seen with crisp cap and cheerful eyes -- but not tonight. He stood, preparing to address the regiment, in a rumpled uniform and with a standard soldier’s helmet with the strap cinched tight under his chin. He was holding a scrap of paper. Stabsfeldwebel Kutz, the blackened old hero of the Somme, stepped forward in his braided uniform. He growled the assembled tankers to attention, and Oberst Harpe walked slowly to the front of the stage to address the regiment.

    “Soldiers, we have had two weeks of rest and leisure in Belgium. The time has again come for the Armed Forces to defend Germany. We, as a regiment, have been selected for a high honor, as part of the small armored force which now prepares to do battle. We have been transported in speed and secrecy to these docks and this ship at the direct orders of our Führer, Adolf Hitler, and the Head War Command. Soldiers, tonight we sail for Ireland.”
    Last edited by TheHyphenated1; 13-11-2009 at 14:54.
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  10. #1510
    Another one!

    I'll comment tomorrow... by which I mean later today.

  11. #1511
    British Unionist trekaddict's Avatar
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    Agh. Wacht am Rhein translated.....

    There, the real one:

    1. Es braust ein Ruf wie Donnerhall,
    Wie Schwertgeklirr und Wogenprall:
    Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutschen Rhein,
    Wer will des Stromes Hüter sein?
    |: Lieb' Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, :|
    |: Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein! :|

    2. Durch hunderttausend zuckt es schnell,
    Und aller Augen blitzen hell;
    Der deutsche Jüngling, fromm und stark,
    Beschirmt die heil'ge Landesmark.
    |: Lieb' Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, :|
    |: Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein! :|

    3. Er blickt hinauf in Himmels Au'n,
    Wo Heldengeister niederschau'n,
    Und schwört mit stolzer Kampfeslust:
    Du Rhein bleibst deutsch, wie meine Brust!
    |: Lieb' Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, :|
    |: Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein! :|

    4. So lang ein Tropfen Blut noch glüht,
    Noch eine Faust den Degen zieht,
    Und noch ein Arm die Büchse spannt,
    Betritt kein Feind hier deinen Strand!
    |: Lieb' Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, :|
    |: Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein! :|

    5. Und ob mein Herz im Tode bricht,
    Wirst du doch drum ein Welscher nicht,
    Reich, wie an Wasser deine Flut,
    Ist Deutschland ja an Heldenblut!
    |: Lieb' Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, :|
    |: Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein! :|

    6. Der Schwur erschallt, die Woge rinnt,
    Die Fahnen flattern hoch im Wind:
    Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutschen Rhein,
    Wir alle wollen Hüter sein!
    |: Lieb' Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, :|
    |: Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein! :|

    7. So führe uns, du bist bewährt;
    In Gottvertrau'n greif' zu dem Schwert,
    Hoch Wilhelm! Nieder mit der Brut!
    Und tilg' die Schmach mit Feindesblut!
    |: Lieb' Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, :|
    |: Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein! :|



    Other than that, nice update.

    EDIT: Also, it's Bürgerbräukeller.
    Last edited by trekaddict; 25-07-2009 at 11:12.
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  12. #1512
    Thanks, trekaddict!

    I know it must slay you to see it in translation like that, but my translation conventions sort of backed me into a corner on that one.

    I went with what seemed to me to be the best translation, but if you can think of refinements, or something that would make it sound less awkward to German ears, I'm game!


    EDIT: Also fixed, sorry . And I had even broken my own italicization rule... I must be slipping. Or maybe it's just that it's after 2AM here.
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  13. #1513
    British Unionist trekaddict's Avatar
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    Oh no worries. While it's indeed hard for me to see it like that I understand the rules you set for yourself.
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  14. #1514
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    Ireland? I hope that the RN is not in your way during the trip to the Green Island...
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  15. #1515
    Lord of Slower-than-real-time El Pip's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Kurt_Steiner View Post
    Ireland? I hope that the RN is not in your way during the trip to the Green Island...
    Of course not, this is Deutschland Uber Alles after all. Something going wrong? The very idea!

    It appears we are reaching the point where a successful SeaLion is pulled of and I have to stop reading in utter disgust at the contempt for plausibility and logistics. A shame.
    Last edited by El Pip; 25-07-2009 at 12:45.
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  16. #1516
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    Argh, English version sounds so silly.

  17. #1517
    British Unionist trekaddict's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by El Pip View Post
    Of course not, this is Deutschland Uber Alles after all. Something going wrong? The very idea!

    It appears we are reaching the point where a successful SeaLion is pulled of and I have to stop reading in utter disgust at the contempt for plausibility and logistics. A shame.
    Well, it seems I have to adress logistics issues soon in concern to Market Garden then.
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  18. #1518
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    Quote Originally Posted by trekaddict View Post
    Well, it seems I have to adress logistics issues soon in concern to Market Garden then.
    Indeed, but Britain starts from an infinitely better base position than Germany as;

    1. She has a large navy.
    2. She has a very large merchant marine.
    3. She has conducted opposed amphibious landings in the past so has experience to draw on.
    4. She has an existing stock of landing craft, ranging from Great War x-lighters through 1920s tank landers to the just entering service LCAs.
    5. She has marine infantry in the Royal Marines who are trained in beach landings.

    Germany has none of these things. Indeed is not even close to any of them in 1936. It takes years to prepare and plan such things, just building the landing craft would take a couple of years and that's assuming you even have a design to base things off. Sea Lion in 1940 is doomed to failure, in 1937 even with a POD the previous year it's an invitation for a German Army Group to drown itself.
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  19. #1519
    American Fascist Slaughts's Avatar
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    My prediction:

    "Mr. Transport? Meet Mr. Battleship/Carrier/Crusier! BOOM!"

    or

    "Mr Transport? Look up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's....well it is a plane with nice roundels on the wings and what the heck is dropping from its belly?"
    Awarded an Honorary Iron Cross 1st Class by TheHyphenatedOne

    List of AARs

  20. #1520
    Ireland?! You're mad!

    Also: the British captured a transport ship? I must have missed when that happened.

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