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Under the premise that my beloved Fatherland will be better of in the end if the Brits win the war. :D
 
Under the premise that my beloved Fatherland will be better of in the end if the Brits win the war. :D

Then what do you think about Frenchies winning? :p
 
Then what do you think about Frenchies winning? :p

The Brits are probably simply dragging them along. During the game I was not impressed at all with the French AI.
 
The Brits are probably simply dragging them along. During the game I was not impressed at all with the French AI.

I'm not impressed by any country's AI to be honest. ;) See my sig for more detail.
 
Chapter 157


p360286-Montreal-Montreal_Winter1.jpg


22nd March 1941

Northern Montreal

The situation in Montreal had not changed at all over the last few days. The city was still a no-mans land, with Government forces holding the areas south of the River, the rebels holding a few city blocks to the north and most of the civilian population keeping their heads down and trying to stay out of the way of both factions. The commander of the communist group that held the north however knew that the city was slipping away from his fingers due to yesterday's broadcast from the blasted church. He did however not know that the RCAF de Havilland Fox Moth that was flying overhead had the most dangerous weapon known to man onboard: A wireless set. This particular set was currently broadcasting that little enemy activity could be observed in the northern parts of Montreal. It was believed to be unlikely that the rebels down here had the equipment to monitor all the frequencies the RCAF used. It was known that the rebels had their local headquarters in that particular house, as it had always been a centre of separatist agitation and was also the base of Quebec's only openly communist newspaper. The rebels inside knew that they were monitored, and that the regime had command of the air, but what they did not know was that the sentence the aircraft had just transmitted was more the go-ahead for a group of twelve men that were waiting nearby. Drake had taken his time to get his men into position, and now three patrols were surrounding the block of flats where the reds had their headquarters. The three patrols would insert into the block from three different sides, while the three sharp shooters sat lay on the buildings that surrounded the house on three sides. The fourth side was open, but a mixed force of RCMP and regular Canadian Cavalry were screening the road up there, so any escape would be difficult at best. The 'little' enemy activity that the plane had reported consisted of three sentries that patrolled the flat roof. The men were in position for several hours already, and the plane was a signal for the SAS that the Canadians had blocked the road and that they were free to go in, and in order to make the sentries look up. The snipers had been the only ones that had brought their weapons with them, and their SMLE No.4 Mk.1(T) sniper rifles the SAS used were equipped with a special gimmick that had made it necessary to bring the Rifles with them: a silencer that while being effective and not limiting the range overly much, needed modifications to the muzzle to make it possible to screw it on and off.

When the last sentry slumped to the ground, Drake knew had had to give the signal. He wished that the packset Squad radios[1] that were coming into general use with the regular Army were small and portable enough for the Regiment to use. In lieu of those the four patrols had been ordered to attack at exactly the same time given that the signal was given, which it had. Drake rammed a magazine into his Owen Machine Carbine and gripped it tightly to make sure it was in the correct position and did not come off on it's own.[2] He then glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was almost time. Around him the others, all armed with Owens in lieu of the usual Lee-Enfields some carried. He watched as the seconds ticked by and anticipation gripped them all during the ten seconds that followed. When the long, thin arm of his watch hit the twelve, he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the house they were camped in over the street to the house they were attacking. He knew that his men were behind him and that on three other sides the other patrols attacked, while the snipers gave cover. He crossed the street without being seen from the inside and dove to cover behind a brick pillar that formed part of a victorian garden fence and trained his gun at the single row of windows that he could see from his position. Around him the rest of 12 Patrol did the same and for a second Drake hoped that they had not been spotted only to have that hope shattered by the sound of a single shot from the other side of the house that was immediately answered by the sharp rattle of the MCs. No point in trying for secrecy and stealth now. “Up and at them, lads!” he yelled and jumped to his feet, running over the short stretch of muddy snow towards the house. Upon reaching it, he pressed his back against the wall, while the others followed while he quickly though about what to do. On the other side the gunfight was still going on and provided a suitable distraction for whoever was in the house, so simply kicking down the door and storming in might be the best move before someone noticed that there were more 'Canadians' on this side too. He nodded to Sobczak and Jones, who promptly went into position, while Little as the Patrol Sniper covered the windows as well as he could. Drake stepped forward and fired a short burst from his MC into the the lock of the door and then slammed his left foot into it. The force of the kick, paired with the paratrooper boot the foot was clad in were too much and the door swung open. Drake was the first through and covered the room with his gun. It was empty, but the cards laying on the table and the half-empty cups of what turned out to be war-time coffee were evidence enough that this room had been occupied shortly before. It was a storage room of some kind, for no beds or anything else domestic aside from the table and the chair were to be seen. Using sign language he told the others to cover the doorway that was missing the door and used peaked around the corner. He instantly moved back, and a split second later a shot rang out and a .30-06 round smashed into the doorframe. Drake suffered some cuts as splinters dug into his face, but was more outraged about being shot at than anything else. He and the other two fired their MCs around the corner without bothering to aim and when Drake looked again, he could see a dead man lying on the floor, still clutching the Springfield he had used to shoot at the three SAS men. Other than that the corridor seemed to be clear. Two doors led to other sections of the house, and a stairway to a windowless second floor that seemed to be the attic. On the far end Drake could see another room like the one they were standing in and in it he saw at least two or three men firing at what had to be the second team. The next thing he saw was another head looking through one of the doors. Sign language made it clear that this was the third team, and that this third team was to take the defenders from the rear as they were closer, while Drake and his men would go up to the room under the roof and secure it. The two patrols lightfooted it past each other and went into position. Upon a nod, Drake and his men raced up the stairs while the other patrol sprayed the room with gunfire, cutting down the five defenders where they stood. Meanwhile Drake and his group stood in front of another closed door on some sort of landing, wishing they had Hand Grenades, something the Canadian Army had been unable or unwilling to provide. Instead the three men simply shot out the lock and waited for the response. The response came when dozens of shots rang out and smashed through the door. They mostly missed the SAS troopers, one bullet graced Jones's right arm a few inches over the elbow.

The Welshman ignored the pain and fired his MC through the door just like the others. The exchange of gunfire stopped and Drake signalled that the door had to be broken down at last. He went down on his knees and slowly and silently tried to gauge how much persuasion the door would need to open up. Upon examination it turned out that the lock was completely blown out and so the door easily opened. This time no one of those inside fired, and Drake yelled: “Surrender!” in English. “Oui, oui, we surrender. Don't shoot!” Ordering the other two to cover him, Drake stepped out from behind the doorframe and behind an upturned table riddled with bullet holes several men were standing, holding their guns over their heads to signal that they had no intention to fight on. When he walked behind the table, his gun always trained at the much larger group of men, he saw that three lay on the floor, one clearly dead with his face being showing the stare of death and a hole where his left eye had been while two others were holding their hands over various injuries and other holes. “These men need medical attention, oui?” the speaker from before asked. Drake ignored him and kneeled down to the huge mess of papers in front of the upturned desk and picked up as much of them as he could while Jones and and Sobczak tended to the wounded. Outside the gunfire had died down and behind him on the chair he could hear someone coming up the stairs. He turned around but before he could raise his gun again, he saw that it was one of his own men. “Downstairs is secure, Captain, no one anywhere.” the Sergeant said. Drake nodded and asked: “Casualties?” “Some minor wounds, nothing serious.” “Right. Sergeant, please guide these Gentlemen downstairs and someone notify the...Authorities that we need prisoner transport and an ambulance.” At this point the man that had surrendered the room turned to Drake and asked: “Just who are you, Capitaine?” “That, Mister, is not for me to say. Good day.” With that Drake went back to looking through the captured papers. Apparently it had all gone so fast that the rebels had not had time to burn any of them so that he could quickly see that some vital intelligence had been captured here.

22nd March

Quebec City

Cardinal Jean-Marie-Rodrigue Villeneuve had spent the last few days in this cell of the Quebec City central prison, and he knew that whatever the rebels were planing on doing with him it would not be pleasant at all. Ever since he had been snatched out of his bed and taken through the city he knew that there were only few possible outcomes to this situation, and few were anything near pleasant. His cell was one of the larger ones in this prison, and he knew that was only because of what they wanted from him. He could still vividly recall the 'trial' in front of the Central committee of the Republic he had had. After denying the 'charges' and advising them to call to God for forgiveness, he had been brought back to his cell where he had been ever since, the only contact with the rest of the world being the small door that opened at noon every day and where then a bucket with water and a pot with some sort of porridge appeared, exchanged for the garbage bucket in the other corner. This time it was different and the door was opened fully. The guards stepped in, with only their rifles and their red armbands identifying them as such, and ordered the Cardinal to stand up. The Cradinal rose from the bunk he was usually sleeping on and followed the guards outside. The Prison was still being used as a normal prison for the most part, only one wing had been emptied out for 'special' prisoners like himself. He did knew that the other cells were occupied but the walls were too massive for any form of communication. When the guards were leading him through the walls that he had visited many times before as a mere priest, he could see and for the most part smell that the prison was full to the brim with those the leaders of the uprising deemed undesirable. The Cardinal was sure that today they would soon go through with their threats, but unlike most men the Cardinal was prepared to meet his maker. He had made his peace with god long ago, and if some poor misguided souls though that the threat of death was a way to persuade a true christian to change his ways then they were even more misguided than they were already by adopting such godless beliefs. He was determined to go through this ordeal with dignity and faith, whatever they would throw at him, and despite the fact that they seemed unable to understand that no man-made political system could replace the steadfast faith and tranquillity the church, whichever branch, could bring to the people.

But it seemed that he had a small reprieve because the guards led him past the door that led outside into the yard that had seen so many deaths already. Instead he was brought into a room that was bare except for the two chairs and the desk in the middle, with the monotony of the walls only broken by another door and a small window. There the guards sat him onto the chair, said: “Stay sitting.” and left him alone. He looked around in the room and decided to wait things out for walking around in the room would serve no purpose at all. He decided to take up where the guards had interrupted him in his cell and folded his hands in prayer. He remained like such for the next twenty minutes until the door opposite to him suddenly opened and a man wearing a fashionable suit and carrying a suitcase, all of it being a clear sign that he was not one of the usual suspects that normally operated in Quebec City these days. The man did not smile or make any moves to open conversation or whatever he was here to do, but it was clear that he wanted something. The Cardinal took time to study the man, and the mixture between the rather English face and the attitude of superiority that went beyond anything the rebels displayed made it clear that he was not from Quebec. “Anything interesting?” the man asked, and his accent confirmed the cardinal's suspicions. “You are not Canadian.” The man smiled and asked a question of his own. “What makes you think that, Cardinal?” The Cardinal took another few moments to study the man on the other side of the desk. “Your accent, your clothes, the fact that you haven't beaten me yet. This also tells me that you want something from me. While I believe I know what it is and that you know what my answer will be, I will humour both of us and allow you to talk. We both know what my fate is, and I have no intent to give you any sort of hope that I will help you.” The man nodded and and said then: “Still, our mutual friends have asked me to ask you again...” “To what? To make a radio broadcast where I say that the Church supports the revolution? To say that this fight is true and just? I can never condone this mindless violence. The Government will fight, be sure of that, and despite what you and your leaders think, the people of Quebec might want independence, but not like this.” “So is there...” “No, there isn't.” the cardinal interrupted. “Good. Then there is nothing more to say. I hope when you meet your god your are still as defiant.” With that the man rose and left, replaced by the guards. The looks on their faces told the cardinal what he needed to know, and he went to his death with his head high. The news of his death was soon broadcast over Radio Quebec.



[Notes: Does anyone still think that the Franco-Canadians wont fight? And btw, this does not represent my personal political beliefs in any way.]


[1] Essentially a portable backpack radio. Originally the Walkie-Talkie was a backpack set with two men operating it, and what we today know as one was a hand set with reduced performance called handie-talkie. Two men are credited with inventing it, an American Engineer working for Motorola and a Canadian Engineer working for CM&S in 1937. The Canadian called his invention the packset, so that's what I am using here. The first true portable radio and what we call a Walkie-Talkie today that came from that Canadian line was introduced sometime in 1942 in OTL, so here in AAO trust that the SAS is among the first users when it comes in very late 1941.

[2] The Owen MP was an Australian design and from what I have read vastly superior to the Sten in terms of ruggedness and penetration power. In TTL the Owen is adopted by the SAS, eventually totally replacing the Sten. While I don't like top-mounted magazines as evidenced by the introduction of a belt-fed Bren in time for Market Garden, I felt that changing too much in that respect would be unrealistic, even though I could easily manipulate a picture of an Owen. Unaltered pic below and more info here..

hmmmmm1.jpg
 
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[2] The Owen MP was an Australian design and from what I have read vastly superior to the Sten in terms of ruggedness and penetration power. In TTL the Owen is adopted first by the SAS and will later filter through to the rest of the Army, eventually totally replacing the Sten. While I don't like top-mounted magazines as evidenced by the introduction of a belt-fed Bren in time for Market Garden, I felt that changing too much in that respect would be unrealistic, even though I could easily manipulate a picture of an Owen. Unaltered pic below and more info here..

Quick note: The Owen in RL 1940 is chambered in .32 ACP ammo, and hence inferior to the Sten in terms of hitting power. But of course you can say that it's chambered in 9x19mm Para in this AAR in 1940. ;)

I still wouldn't completely say that the Owen can replace the Sten, except for Paras and Special ops. The Owen is heavier, and (I believe) more difficult to produce than the Sten. In times of war, you'll just need a crude and simple, but effective and cheap as possible weapon to equip your soldiers. This is shown by the fact that over 4 million Stens were produced compared to the 50,000 Owens.
 
Griffin.Gen More importantly the Franco-Canadians wont.

gaiasabre11 Hrm. According to various sources on the net it was chambered for9x19 Parabellum in OTL. As for production issues, tHe slightly lower production speed is taken as a price for having a gun that can take more. The Sten, unlike OTL, was always seen as a stop gap until something better ( the Owen in this case ) could be adopted. I'll write an intermission on Infantry small arms soon.

EDIT: Linky
 
gaiasabre11 Hrm. According to various sources on the net it was chambered for9x19 Parabellum in OTL. As for production issues, tHe slightly lower production speed is taken as a price for having a gun that can take more. The Sten, unlike OTL, was always seen as a stop gap until something better ( the Owen in this case ) could be adopted. I'll write an intermission on Infantry small arms soon.

EDIT: Linky

I was using the site in your link for info already. :p I suppose you can tell from the stuff provided in the link that the Owen in OTL is not chambered in 9x19mm Para until 1941.

I also mentioned about the cost. The Sten I believed is cheaper than the Owen.

IMHO, even if the Sten is seen as a stop-gap, it should still be produced in higher quantities than the Owen until the war ends. This is most likely bc of its low cost and easy production, and of course the addition time and cost to set up production lines for the Owen.
 
I was using the site in your link for info already. :p I suppose you can tell from the stuff provided in the link that the Owen in OTL is not chambered in 9x19mm Para until 1941.

I also mentioned about the cost. The Sten I believed is cheaper than the Owen.

IMHO, even if the Sten is seen as a stop-gap, it should still be produced in higher quantities than the Owen until the war ends. This is most likely bc of its low cost and easy production, and of course the addition time and cost to set up production lines for the Owen.

British production lines are already being re-tooled for the Owen. Remember, this Britain is in a slightly better economical and a much better military positon, at least on the ground.
 
British production lines are already being re-tooled for the Owen. Remember, this Britain is in a slightly better economical and a much better military positon, at least on the ground.

Even if that's true, I'll still go for the Sterling MP instead of the Owen to replace the Sten sometime in 1943~1944.
 
Even if that's true, I'll still go for the Sterling MP instead of the Owen to replace the Sten sometime in 1943~1944.

The Stirling will probably replace the Owen sometime in the late 40s, but will not appear earlier.
 
The Stirling will probably replace the Owen sometime in the late 40s, but will not appear earlier.

Seriously though, I don't think folks in the MoD would want to use a "colonial" design compared to an indigenous design. I still see no probs in having the Sterling appearing in the war.
 
Seriously though, I don't think folks in the MoD would want to use a "colonial" design compared to an indigenous design. I still see no probs in having the Sterling appearing in the war.

You might have a point. But still, I am exercising authors perrogative here and will decide about it when the time comes.
 
You might have a point. But still, I am exercising authors perrogative here and will decide about it when the time comes.

that's just being unreasonable. :p

I'd rather have Owen (the guy) join some design teams in Britain and have him work on a design that will eventually lead to the Sterling, ready for production probably in 1943~1944. The Owen MP will be produced at the meantime in small numbers to equip Paras and Special ops, while the Sten remains as the mainstream MP until the end of the war, where it will be replaced completely by the Owen and folks designed Sterling.

That's just the way I think it should go. ;)
 
Damn your eyes tk, your forcing me to agree with a Frenchman. :( ( :p )

The Owen was never going to get anywhere, it's success in Australia was only due to it being a local design (the Aussies govt. of the time being very interested establishing a local defence manufacturing capability). It's heavy, bulky, hard to aim and owes it's success to politics rather than quality.

Frankly it's not good enough to justify the extra cost and time required to make it and it's definitely not the huge leap over the Sten that it would have to be to make the British Army buy colonial. If the Army has extra resources for guns, spend them on jumping straight to the higher quality MkV Sten; the extra tolerances and equipment make it more than 'good enough' to last the war.

However you appear committed to the idea, so I'll say no more.


Interesting news from Canada, it appears the Communistical types are once again letting ideology get in the way of practicality. They'd be better served by following the example of Lenin and making short term concessions to reality in place of rigged ideological purity, but then communists never are that bright (or they wouldn't be communists) so it's about par for the course.
 
Damn your eyes tk, your forcing me to agree with a Frenchman. :( ( :p )

The Owen was never going to get anywhere, it's success in Australia was only due to it being a local design (the Aussies govt. of the time being very interested establishing a local defence manufacturing capability). It's heavy, bulky, hard to aim and owes it's success to politics rather than quality.

Frankly it's not good enough to justify the extra cost and time required to make it and it's definitely not the huge leap over the Sten that it would have to be to make the British Army buy colonial. If the Army has extra resources for guns, spend them on jumping straight to the higher quality MkV Sten; the extra tolerances and equipment make it more than 'good enough' to last the war.

However you appear committed to the idea, so I'll say no more.

Admittedly what has been said made me think about it all again. You will get to hear my desicion soon. Because that's what commenting is for, input on things that I didn't or couldn't consider due to lack of knowledge, or because I simply didn't think of them. All very much apprechiated.

Interesting news from Canada, it appears the Communistical types are once again letting ideology get in the way of practicality. They'd be better served by following the example of Lenin and making short term concessions to reality in place of rigged ideological purity, but then communists never are that bright (or they wouldn't be communists) so it's about par for the course.

Indeed. With the shooting they played into the hands of the Canadians without relizing it. Very soon though that will come back to bite them in the arse.
 
The Spanish Inquisition won't be happy about the poor Cardinal, watch out...