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Against all Odds: The British Empire in World War Two

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Lord Strange Yes, I did get encircled. :eek:o

Anyway, all I added was "King of the British Empire" and an s behind Defender of the Faith.

Kurt_Steiner Trust me, it's not quite over yet. :eek:

Raaritsgozilla :p
 
at least you got them out again. i always go mad when i lose a large amount of troops in an encirclement.
 
Kurt_Steiner Well, it was the French Army against Germany and the Soviet Union, and not the Wehrmacht against Republican Spain.

BritishImperial They are still encircled and will stay there for the time being, one way or another. All allied troops outside the encirclement are heavily disorganized. More on that in the next update.
 
trekaddict said:
Kurt_Steiner Well, it was the French Army against Germany and the Soviet Union, and not the Wehrmacht against Republican Spain.
Click to expand...


I had a snappy little comment all set to go, but you burst my bubble with that one.:(


It's good to see Niemczyk getting recognized with a VC. Congrats to him.
On the warfront it seems that France continues to spiral towards defeat.
 
Hardraade said:
It's good to see Niemczyk getting recognized with a VC. Congrats to him.
On the warfront it seems that France continues to spiral towards defeat.
Click to expand...

Going down with all guns blazing, but if it's facing the whole weight of the Wehrmacht AND a strong Red Army contingent, going down most definitely.

The battle of France seems lost, even with a sizeable BEF to rely upon - it'd take a miracle to beat that kind of odds.

I guess Britain will soon worry about making a swift Dunkirk before the BEF is engulfed in the brown-and-red tidal wave. A Battle of Britain against V-VS and Luftwaffe's joint forces is going to be a nightmare for the RAF. They might want to incite French pilots to fly to Britain to use their Blochs and Dewoitines over the Channel !
 
Hardraade Yeah, something like that was to be expected. As for the Ltc, I had him in for it early on.



Atlantic Friend All very true, all very true. I knew/expected something like this situation from the start, but I decided to fight for France as good and long as possible. The RAF is well prepared for the fight, as the Chain-Home system is in effect and complete, and hordes and hordes of Spitfires are waiting. By comparison, I have one full wing of Typhoons in France while I have four wings of Spitfires in the UK, with more building. I also increased AA defences. More on that in the next update, which will deal with the Air defences instead of the battle in France.
 
what do you mean by a wing, sorry?
 
BritishImperial said:
what do you mean by a wing, sorry?
Click to expand...

Unless I'm wrong about the RAF's organizational structure (and I might be), a wing is a grouping of squadrons. I'm sure trekaddict knows off hand how many squadrons to a wing.
 
I noticed I mystyped in these posts...:eek:o

Anyway, I am using a system based on the game and common sense.

16 aircraft are one Squadron, four Squadrons are one wing and four wings are one group, which is in turn the four Air Division Airstack you see in the game.

All in all this translate into roughly 1280 Figher aircraft if I calculated correctly, of which 1024 would be Spitfires, not counting spares.
 
I ran into another problem whilst planning a near future update.

It concerns the national Anthem for Canada.

I am torn between "Oh Canada" and "Maple Leaf forever".


Personally, I'd go with the second one, but I want the input of the Canadians on this board.
 
trekaddict said:
I ran into another problem whilst planning a near future update.

It concerns the national Anthem for Canada.

I am torn between "Oh Canada" and "Maple Leaf forever".


Personally, I'd go with the second one, but I want the input of the Canadians on this board.
Click to expand...
Second one, without a doupt.
I never heard it before, much better than the "Let's appease the frenchies" one.
 
Griffin.Gen said:
Second one, without a doupt.
I never heard it before, much better than the "Let's appease the frenchies" one.
Click to expand...

Makes sense, considering that TTL Canada will be a LOT more anglocentric.
 
I shouldn't post stuff when I am so damn tired. Anyway, it turns out that when I calculated the number of Aircraft I counted the interceptor wing in France twice....


Yeah....:eek:o


The real number is 1024 interceptors and fighters overall, of which 768 are Spitfires.
 
Chapter 128​


RAF_Fighter_Command1.jpg



2nd August 1940


Fighter Command HQ Bunker

'Therefore, in response to the failure of the Air Ministry to provide the Royal Air Force with the aircraft needed pre war and in the early stages of said war, the Prime Minister, in consent with his Majesty, detaches the responsibility of the development and production Aircraft and the adjacent Industries from the Air Ministry and merges them with with the newly created Ministry for Defence Production ( current Minister: Max Aitken, 1st Baron Beaverbrook ). The actual production and procurement of Aircraft of all types will be handled by the Air Board within the Ministry for Defence Production, comprised of the Head of the Air Staff, the Minister for Defence Production and the Secretary of State for Air and their Department heads. The Ministry....”

Dowding placed the report back in the top drawer of his desk. It was five months now, but he still smiled whenever he read it. It was still a bureaucracy, but at least the Service had a say now and Beaverbrook at least knew what the Service needed. The next report was not such entertaining reading. It was the daily report on the Air Defences of the United Kingdom, compiled by the commanders of the groups, the branch of the Royal Artillery that controlled the anti-aircraft guns and the people that were putting the last touches on the Chain Home system. Once more he silently read to himself.

'Daily readiness report, 01/08/40

RAF Fighter Command nominal strength ( 11-14 groups ) including reserve Aircraft 768, effective combat strength, not including spares and overseas: 748 Aircraft.'

Going further down, he read the bit that the concerned the Chain Home System. Over the last few weeks the Chain Home Low system had been added, finally giving the RAF full RDF coverage of Britain's coastlines. Somehow the War Office had been persuaded to release funds to even cover the western Coastline of the UK, although the net was very thin there. He had however been forced to release two Squadrons for deployment to Singapore last week, but these had been made good with new Squadrons arriving from training. Still, he would miss 633 Squadron and 243 Squadron, as they had been his highest scoring units so far. Other sections included the report by the Royal Artillery Anti-Aircraft Command, a section that was part of the RAF in all but name, and was subordinate to the local sector stations. Arrayed along the coast and around important industrial and military installations, the heavy guns were, as Dowding knew only for show and to raise morale, as during the night the Artillery had next to no chance to hit a fast moving aircraft, and by day the Germans and Soviets were there in too great numbers. Still, some defences were better than no defences at all, and he was going to take all the advantages the Air Defence could get. During the night, the nine Squadrons of Boulton-Paul Defiants were also there to protect important targets like London, and some of the industrial cities of the North. He snorted. These damn things were from a time when the Air Ministry had had all the say in the development of new Aircraft, with only minor input from the Service. When it had been tested against a Spitfire in 1939, Dowding had taken a single look at the results and the Defiant had promptly been withdrawn from the frontline Squadrons. As it was, they were showing great promise as nightfighters and that was an area where the RAF was sadly lacking. He rose from his chair and walked out to the doors that led to the gardens. Taking off his glasses, he looked towards where London was. As the AoCinC of Fighter Command he knew a lot, and sometimes wished he didn't.

3rd August 1940

Copenhagen, Denmark

The way to this point had been more than difficult for our two intrepid heroes. When Ian and Felix had set off from Britain the week before, they had taken an RAF Lysander to a 'deserted piece of rock' in northern Denmark. From there they had been taken, with the aid of a local man that seemed to work for one British Intelligence Service or other, the regular bus line to Copenhagen. The fact that this bus stopped in every little village and hamlet it passed through, and that it had to take numerous ferries to reach the Danish Capital, where they had entered another safehouse, this time operated by MI6, as Ian knew the operator from his own 'Embassy days' in Berlin. There they received new papers, obviously forged Irish diplomatic papers, and were told to wait three days before unspecified other arangements had been made. Ian took this time to relax and review the mission orders once again. He could hear M's voice:

“You will do two things. Firstly you will follow these orders to the letter, and from this will result second, you will come back alive. Your job is it to meet with one of our agents near Hamburg. He has vital information for us, but is unable to contact us through the usual channel as that one has been swept under the Axis Armies in the Netherlands. You are to exfiltrate that information, and, if possible also the agent. Where told him where and when to meet you via a hidden message in the BBC German service.” Ian had just looked at Felix, who had asked: “Do we have any confirmation that he got these orders?” “No.”

What had followed had been weeks of training, where the two had had to learn two entire sets of new identities, and numerous other things and tidbits that were supposed to allow them to survive in enemy territory. They would be out of uniform, and both had no illusions about what would happen if they were caught. Both had received training in what to do if so earlier in their careers, though Ian's training had been more in depth. Not that it would be of much use. “Ian, you awake?” Felix asked, taking the seat beside him. In his hand Felix held two bottles of German beer, something that was not to be had in Britain these days and offered one to Ian, who took it greedily. “You know, this whole blasted thing is a deathtrap.” Ian nodded and answered silently: “I damn well know, mate.” “Then why did you accept?” With an almost gallic shrug Ian answered. “We all have to do our bit for King & Country, and besides, I couldn't very well let you go to your death alone. Your sister is scary when she is angry.” Felix just grinned and leaned back in his chair. He was just about to continue talking when a knock at the door put them on high alert. Relaxing only slightly when the arranged three knocks in rapid succession followed by two more farther apart came, they drew their guns, in both cases German Army-issue Lugers that they would hide in their bags when crossing into Germany, an positioned themselves. Felix slowly moved the door an inch and fully opened it when he saw that it was the operator. Obviously satisfied that the two had learned something and were able to follow instructions, and were at the same time confident enough to make their own decisions. Ian had always been a sharp chap, and the other would also go far, if they made it back that is. When the door was closed, the three British Agents assembled in the kitchen of the flat. There the operator gave them the orders that he himself had received via a dead drop done by a nondescript clerk at the British Embassy who happened to be Head of Station D ( Denmark ). No more busses, something that raised the spirits of both Ian and Felix, and instead they would take the ferry to Rügen, and from there another one to Rostock and from there the train to Hamburg. They would then 'do whatever they had to do' and take another train north, this time towards Flensburg and from there the ferry back to Copenhagen. “Easy, eh?” had been not honoured with a comment from Ian and Felix.

Late on the next day they were sitting on the ferry to Rügen. Both where wearing not too expensive and actually rather boring suits that one expected from junior diplomats and carried attaché cases that contained a full set of papers on the fishing industry of Scandinavia in Gerneral and Denmark in particular along with several flasks of Irish whiskey, because this was expected of junior diplomats. The Equipment section of MI6 had seriously outdone itself, as someone had even thought of adding several ticket stubs of a cinema in Dublin in Ian's case. The papers they carried, along with everything else, made them look like some junior civil servants that had toured the fishing in industry in Scandinavia, and both knew enough about it deliver a convincing lecture on it if anyone was fishing for information. Ian and Felix were sitting on the upper deck of the ferry, enjoying the late summer day whilst conversing with low voices and nursing a cup of Coffee each. From their position they could see the Island of Rügen approaching to their south. Ian looked at Felix and said nonchalantly: “This is it then...”

An hour later they were filing down the gangway and were funnelled towards the customs station with the rest of the passengers, where a scruffy looking customs official who was missing an arm waved them through after thoroughly inspecting their passports and finding them genuine. Ian had not been to Germany since before the war and was just as anxcious as Felix to find out what this country was like at war. When they walked out of the ferry terminal, the first thing that caught their eye was the sheer number of uniforms especially the male members of the population were wearing. Everything from Wehrmacht, Luftwaffe and of course the Kriegsmarine over the Hitler youth to the characteristic brown Party uniforms could be seen being worn by young and old. Ian felt less than comfortable. They were standing out like parrots, as their demeanour and their clothes would quickly mark them as foreigners, something that would be common enough in Berlin, but this was one of the remotest corners in Germany. Still, they were not bothered as they walked through the small town towards the train station. One other thing that Ian noticed was that the Germans did not seem to be all that bothered by the war. Sure, there were the usual propaganda and instructional posters written with that ridiculous typeface the Germans used, and of course national flagging, but on the whole people were ignoring them. In a similar town in the UK there would have been an air of frightened expectation in the air, and as foreigners, they would constantly be asked for news. Ian inwardly shrugged. This was what winning a war did to you. He touched Felix on the arm when they reached a small shop that was selling books and newspapers. While he went inside, Felix was waiting on the outside. Unlike Ian, he had not been in Germany before, and was finding that most of the things that were being told about it were not true. If it had not been ruled by a megalomaniac madman and been at war with his adopted home nation, then it might even have been a rather nice place. Soon however the relative sense of peace he felt was shattered when a policeman, clad in the green uniform and speaking the guttural accent of the area asked him for his papers. Putting his case down, Felix fumbled with his papers and said that he was a diplomat at the same time. “And you are here on duty for your embassy?” the Police Officer asked. Using the overstated and in his own ears ridiculous Irish accent his Grandfather had spoken when he had last visited him in Boston. He struggled not to let his nervousness show, and thought he failed miserably at it. Every moment now he expected the officer to simply point out that these were fake papers and arrest him, from which it would be only a matter of time until... “This seems to be in order. Have a nice day.” was what came instead. He let go of the breath he had not known he had held and desperately wished for Ian to return. As confident and as experienced as he was, the whole experience was less worse if he was able to share it with someone. He flinched when someone put a hand on his arm. Turning around he saw it was Ian, with a copy of a newspaper in his hand. “You handled that well, my friend.” Ian said so low that no one else besides Felix could hear him. “Damn well didn't feel like it.” Ian smirked and said, referring to his own field experience during his MI6 days: “First time is the worst. You will always be nervous, but trust me, it's all a matter of learning by doing.”

[Note: Another case of narrative overcoming game. T game doesn't include dedicated nightfighters, so I am roleplaying them. Same goes for the two Spit Squadrons in Singapore. In France nothing much happens for the next few days, so I am taking a short break from the Battlefield. ]
 
Defiants... well, better that than nothing until the Beau comes...
 
ah excellent, i was wondering what had happened to our fine pair of agents. their latest mission sounds dangerous bordering on the stupid.

good to know also that britain has roused herself nicely to defend her borders against the aerial threat. in game terms, how many radar sites and aa batteries are we talking on the east coast?
 
Kurt_Steiner True enough. Bad planes are better than no planes at all.

Griffin.Gen Indeed. They will perhaps play a bigger role later on.

BritishImperial It's not really stupid, as it doesn't get that far into Germany, but it is mighty dangerous. I have perhaps 1xAA and 3x Radar in each province. Back when I played this game, I didn't yet know the importance of these techs. But its not that bad, Fighter Command has more Spitfires than their total combined strength in OTL.
 
Both as a bump and to assure you that I am still alive, based on a recent game:


After the Allied defeats in Asia and Europe the war stalemanted. Whilst Germany was busy in the east knocking out the Soviet Union, the United States began to ask themselves what the point was in fighting an ever more powerful German Empire. Still, President Landon refused several peace offers by Kaiser Wilhelm II and later his son, Wilhelm III, and vowed to fight on, even after the massive allied Garisson in Iceland was destroyed by a Nuclear Bomb and a subsequent German landing. Then, in late 1948, it happened: German Infantry, Armoured Cavalry and Panzers landed in Halifax, Canada and proceeded to overrun North America, with the last holdouts in Alaska being destroyed by January 1950. In the treaty of Detroit America was carved up. In the south, the Confederate States rose from the ashes, just like the Republic of New England before the war was over. In the west of the United States, the Union of Cascadia, the Republic of Greater California, the Alaskan Republic and the Intermountain Federation were founded. In Canada the Kingdom of Quebec was founded, whilst the Maritime provinces, along with Labrador were annexed by Germany. Outside of CONUS, the United States lost Hawaii, Guam, Samoa and several more Islands to Germany. Whilst the United States remained techincally at war with the Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere the remnants of the Allies remained alone.

 
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