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Mmmh... the war is going to increase its size, perhaps?
 
I have no further questions about him at this time.



I am curious to know how you typed this sentence up.


How I typed it ? The beautiful combination of Online Translators and Copy and Paste. :p


Mmmh... the war is going to increase its size, perhaps?

Nope.

German line broken? French advance stopped at Stuttgart? At least the militia men proved to be more than everyone thought.

The Militia ? Yeah you'll see them in the most awesome update for this AAR yet. :p Makes up for their general lack of skill with a gun and total lack of artillery support.

As for your guesses, you'll find out.
 
The ? represented me being shocked.

haha. Yes I see what you mean now ... took me a while to get that through my head.

To be honest I have entirely forgotten what it says. All I know is that it is in Russian.

You like Dragon Age ?
 

Part3-FallofGermaniacopy.jpg

The Fall of Germania - Part 1

October 8 1936 …

French Positions Near Stuttgart …

“Oui. Nous sommes dans les positions. Commencement le bombardement ?” asked the French Captain. The artillery had been brought up to position near Stuttgart on a ridge, giving it a clear firing view into the city and the surrounding area. All 367 Artillery pieces were ready to fire and had enough ammo to last them days of fighting - without the need for resupply. Stuttgart would fall or it would be bombed to ruin and left to rot.
“Oui, Capitaine. Commencement” answered the General. The man was observing the city from the position, glaring out through a pair of binoculars. He demanded to take the city. The remainder of the French force could not continue its advance into Germany until Stuttgart and the lower cities were captured. The French line at Frankfurt, Kassel ,Wilhelmshaven and Munster still had yet to advance into southern Germany. And that was about to be corrected.
“Commencement le bombardement !” yelled the Captain as a roar of guns cried out at the city, their shells screeching as they crashed into the German defenders.

Stuttgart, Germany …

“Get down !” yelled Sergeant Feurersturm as artillery shells shrieked into the city, sending masses of dirt into the air. One of the men screamed as they hit the floor, a piece of shrapnel protruding from his left side. Einglen rushed to grab the man and pulled him into the church, realising only then that the shrapnel had pushed its way through his stomach to get to the opposite side of his body.
“Jesus ! Medic ! Medic !” he yelled, dragging the man behind him, leaving a trail of blood as he did so. One of the men rushed over to the mans side and waved the Sergeant away. He grabbed his rifle and walked through the church. This house of god was turning into the house of death. Wounded and dying men lay strewn across the benches which had once housed the catholic population of Stuttgart. The medics had hoped that the French would not target the building because of it’s religious significance. Apparently, the French didn’t care anymore. They were ought for revenge and they were willing to burn the world down to get it.
“Sergeant ! What the hell is going on ! I thought the French were going to move in on the city, not bomb until it sank into the ground!” yelled one of the Militia men.
“They’ll come, but not yet” replied the Sergeant, steadily making his way into the Morgue beneath the church - and into the German Stuttgart HQ”
He passed down the steps, a pair of guards snapping to attention as he entered the room. As Einglen entered the room, he realised how poorly the battle was going. The wounded continued into the HQ. Men were lying across the edges of the room, bandages on their heads or blood spilling out into the room as they lay there, waiting for the attention they so desperately needed. All the Sergeant could do was carry on walking.
“General, I don’t think that we can hold the city. We need to retreat while we can”
“No, we will not abandon this city. The line must be held here and we will hold it, or we will die trying”
“Then were all going to die” said one of the Colonel’s as he and two others marched out of the room past the Sergeant.
It was then that the General noticed him. “Sergeant ? I’m making you an acting Lieutenant. You are going to be in the western edges of the city. You’ll have about 200 men and 50 odd members of the Militia”
“Yes Sir” said Einglen. Despite his duties, it seemed that if they did not withdraw from Lower Germany then the entire line would collapse under the pressure of the French here, and the Polish at Dresden, even so he knew that voicing the opinion would be useless.
“We don’t have any reinforcements en route but I may be able to divert a column of Panzer’s to you if the French relieve pressure from our Southern flank. Do you need anything else ?”
“A few beers, a couple hundred more men and air support would be good, Sir” The general glared at him.
“This is not a war in which we have the advantage, Lieutenant. Now, think carefully this time. Is there anything else you need?”
Einglen looked back at the guards at the door. “Requesting permission to bring those two with me General”
“Permission Granted. You can take the other four guarding the entrance to the Church as well. It’s not like they can do anything against Artillery”
“Thank you sir” said Feurersturm. He turned to saluted and headed for the exit. As he reached the stairs the General called out to him.
“Good luck Lieutenant” with a dry smile. Einglen wasn’t sure if he was sincere or not. But what did it matter, they were all going to die anyw-
A tremendous crash resounded through the building as the screech of an artillery shell halted. Einglen turned to the General as the floor above them collapsed and the blast went off. The Sergeant was thrown off his feet and tossed back into the stairs as fire engulfed the room. He could feel the heat, blazing in the morgue as he covered his face with his arms. In a second it was over.
Dust filled the room and several shouts could be heard amongst the rubble. The Sergeant struggled to his feet and stumbled up the stairs. He was greeted at the top by medics and wounded lying dead, strewn across the rubble filled building. He placed his hand on the wall and walked himself out, barely stopping to see the dead militia which he had spoken to a minute ago.
The guards from outside rushed into the building. Struggling to speak, the Sergeant coughed “You, you and you two. Come with me”
“But .. Sir ..”
“We’re not going to have able bodied men guard the grave of dozens. Now, come with me or I’ll shoot you myself” he said, almost falling over at one point. As the guard held him up he looked at his shoulder to see something he had never thought he would. His right ear was dangling on his shoulder.
“Fuck me” he whispered as the men put him into their vehicle and they rushed to a Medical Checkpoint. Einglen was slipping in and out of consciousness but before he blacked out he heard something over the constant ringing in his left ear. He heard gunshots.
The French were closing in for the kill.


** After discovering that I have quite a few updates stored, I wanted to ask the readers if they would prefer daily updates. I think I can guess their answer. :p **
 
Stuttgart lies in essentially a extremely huge hole in the ground, just so you know.
 
Stuttgart lies in essentially a extremely huge hole in the ground, just so you know.

At this pace the rubble of Sttugart is going to fille the hole...
 
At this pace the rubble of Sttugart is going to fille the hole...

It's a deep one. Besides, you can't hold this part of Germany down, especially when you are French. :D
 
The Fall of Germania - Part 2

October 9 1936

Stockholm, Sweden …

“Your Highness, we have done as you asked” said Colonel Bjorn. The two men stood in the Kings Palace. The gloom over them held at bay by the candles light on the oak table before the King. They stood in silent for some moments as others entered the room. Clad in black suits and masks, the men before them were from throughout Scandinavia. They had become known as the Vikings. The best from the combined military’s of Sweden, Norway, Finland and Denmark. They were ready for this task, just as they had been for all before.
The men bowed as the King stood and walked over, examining their dark appearance, and deadly weapons. Armed with prototype models of a new German weapon, the MP37, they were able to fire automatic weapons with extreme accuracy. The third man down the line was instead bearing a pair of trench guns with a revolver at his side.
Satisfied, the King turned back to the Colonel. “Your men are aware of their mission? Of its delicate nature?”
“Of course your Highness” said the man.
“Then they are well aware that my daughter has been kidnapped?” he said. Looking down the line of the twelve man team.
“They are itching for the chance to complete this task”
“Good. Then I suppose I should inform you. An informant traveling with them tells me that they are going to be traveling from Moscow to Stalingrad, before flying to Tibet and then once more to Tokyo. You are to intercept them in Tiber”
“As you command. We will leave immediately”
The King smiled dryly. His entrance into the war would rely on the outcome of this mission. So long as it succeeded, he would join France in its new world order. He almost marvelled at Marcus’ demise. It would be a good day. It would be the day when Scandinavia would have just cause to enter the war, and his long standing ambitions could be realised.

Hanoi, French Vietnam …

“Our spies tell us that Katsumoto will be skipping his plan to travel from Persia. With the recent French declaration of unrestricted warfare, he apparently fears becoming a target for every Bloc ship in the Pacific” said one of the men.
“Quiet. We are not to discuss this in public. You know our orders” said another.
“Our orders? It was supposed to be I, and I alone”
“Quiet Ikigo. You are no longer in charge of this task. The Master sought it fit to assign more of us to this task. Surely you are not questioning him?” asked the Ninja by the fireplace. Their 4 man team had been ordered to wait here for the night. They would be receiving new information shortly, and until they did, they would wait. With assurances from the French and the Chinese, they were given free reign in Bloc territories to act as they needed. Here, however, they were on assignment from Japan. That was cause for worry amongst them.
Long had Japan and China feuded, and this feud was not kept out of the various Ninja clans. If another clan was aware of their presence, violence would surely break out. That was to be avoided.
“How long must we wait? Do we not already know that the target is to travel to Tibet?”
“We must confirm it. Without confirmation, we could head there and miss him. This mission has a desirable reward, a reward which makes it imperative that we kill him as assigned”
“And the woman? We are to kill her too?”
“That is the assignment”
The men sat and waited in the corner, waiting for their host to deliver a letter. A letter they wished would come quickly.


** A small update today - which has come rather late I must say. I must apologize for that. But regardless, you can tell that both the Ninja from before and the Scandinavians have beef with Katsumoto. On another note - any ideas who the spy might be ?**
 
Yes please ;-)

OUI! Commencement le bombardement!!!


Then it shall be done !

Stuttgart lies in essentially a extremely huge hole in the ground, just so you know.

Thats good. I imagined it surrounded by hills so if it is in a hole in the ground then it still works I suppose ...

At this pace the rubble of Sttugart is going to fille the hole...

mmm Something along those lines.

It's a deep one. Besides, you can't hold this part of Germany down, especially when you are French. :D

Try telling that to the French Pact of Death ...


My! That one woman is causing quite some backroom scheming. :D

mmm. Royalty always brings interesting events with them. Especially when they leave without telling anyone with a man whom their father dislikes.
 
So now we have Ninja's AND elite Swedish Viking-Assasins after Katsumoto. Cool:D.

As for the informant: is it Uncle Joe or one of his cronies?
 
The Fall of Germania - Part 3

October 11 1936

Stuttgart, Germany …

BattleofStuttgart.jpg

The Battle of Stuttgart ended in a French victory, something many people put down to their use of armoured vehicles.

“Keep up the fire!” yelled Einglen. They had been fighting with the French in this ruined hell hole for the last several days. The artillery did not let up, the airforce had increased its bombings and the fighting grew ever intense. The spray of bullets fired from Einglen’s weapon caught one of the French in the streets below him in the chest. The man fell over as his squad mates fired into the air as they ran. Their blind firing did little than to make others aware of their presence.
A group of the Militia fired on them from across the street with some hunting rifles. With the Militia and Einglen firing, the French squad was left to rot amongst the rubble. Even as the Militia across from him cheered, an artillery shell smashed into the house and brought it down on top of them. Einglen coughed as the smoke rose and grabbed what ammo he could.
He got up and ran into the hallway of the building he had been inside. “Men! Were moving out!” he said as he ran through the hall and down the stairs. A group of 6 soldiers began shouting from their rooms and raced down behind him.
“Sir! What the hell are we supposed to do?” asked one of the younger soldiers.
“The city is lost man ..everything has gone to hell! We have to get out while we still can!” yelled out one of the others.
“Shut up! All of you and let me think for a second!” yelled Einglen. It was true that the city was lost. No one could deny it. But still, they had to hold. For Germany, they had to keep fighting. “Where is the nearest evacuation point?” he asked.
“They were all abandoned once the fighting began. Last I heard, all reinforcements were being directed to set up on lines behind the city” said Sergeant Sigmund. Einglen stared at the man who he had been with for the last several months. The two had served in the same platoon along during Operation Iron Heart and to both of them, it seemed that the Operation had not only failed - but only wasted manpower that was needed now more than ever before.
“What about in the centre of the city? There was still fighting there wasn’t there?” asked Private Klaus.
“That was where things were most fortified, if I remember” said Corporal Erhard.
“What was it? A regiment?” asked Sergeant Sigmund.
“I heard it was a battalion” said Klaus.
“Great. So we have a battalion guarding the center and a few hundred men split up on both flanks” said the Lieutenant.
“So where are we going?” asked Sigmund.
“I think it’s pretty obvious. We go to the centre to find out the situation. Then we’ll find out what else to do” he said. Some of the men nodded in agreement, Private Lenz shook his head.
“We should just leave. Stuttgart is lost. Hell the whole damn war is probably done” he whispered. The men just ignored him. The kid would have them all withdraw and then surrender, hoping for good terms. Half the men in the unit swore he was part French.
“Alright. Lets get going” said Sergeant Sigmund as the man stood and darted off towards the center of the city.

It was late when they arrived. Fires light the city, the moon obscured by smoke and rising ash. Gunfire rung through the city and the French airforce was beginning their nightly raids on the city. Einglen crouched with his squad at the corner of a Church. They had run through the city for the last hours, dodging patrols and ambushing the odd French squad brave enough to venture on its own.
“Sir … I think we found the Battalion” said Klaus as the men looked at the empty square in front of them. The bodies of soldiers and militia were strewn everywhere. German helmets lay across the ground, bloodied and indented. It seemed a massacre more than a battle.
“What the hell happened here?” asked Erhard.
“Were all doomed! There going to find us and then they’re going to kill us!” said Lenz.
“Shut up damn it!” whispered Einglen. Voices from the north of the courtyard drifted to their ears.
“What is that?” asked Sigmund
“French?” asked Klaus
“nah, Italian?” said Erhard.
“No. Both” said Einglen.
“Both? Well then that means that” began the Sergeant.
“Holy Shit … it’s the Bloc Guard” whispered Lenz, bringing himself into a panic. “Oh my god .. They’re going to kill us! They’re going to cut out our tongues and scalp us and -” Einglen grabbed the Private by the face and held his mouth shut.
“Quiet and they won’t even know we’re here” he said, as calm as he could. The Bloc Guard were infamous in Europe. An international Bloc force, they were ruthless and savage. Half of them were ex-convicts and the other half were Fascists who had been deported from their own country. The realisation that they were on the field would be enough to drive any soldier pale, and the sound of their ceremonial horn was enough to set men to flight.
“We have to get passed them. We have to reach the main road and follow it out of the city. It is the only one which the Militia didn’t trap” said Sigmund.
“This is not good” said Klaus.
“Surely there is another way” said another man.
“There is none. We have to get through here. I will cross first. Sigmund, you take up the rear” ordered Einglen.
The Sergeant nodded before looking at Lenz. Turning back to Einglen, both men knew that he would be a problem. With a slight nod, Einglen gave him permission to leave Lenz behind if things went to hell.
“This is a real bad idea. Do you want to know why?” asked Erhard.
“Because it is obviously a bad idea?” guessed Klaus.
“That too” said Erhard.
Einglen readied himself and peered out into the courtyard for a second. He had to run across the street into an alley and follow it until it came out by a bombed out house. With any luck, the house would be empty and they could creep out a window or backdoor onto the main road and be on their way. Einglen took a deep breath before he ran.
Without even looking at how many of the Bloc Guard were in the courtyard, he managed to reach the other side. Klaus and Erhard ran next. They were followed by Albrecht and a pair of militia they had picked up on their way to the centre of the city. Lenz and Sigmund were the last who needed to make the crossing.
“Come on!” whispered Einglen, as loud as he would dare speak.
“He’s not moving!” whispered Sigmund in the same manner.
“What the hell is this! We have to get moving!” whispered Klaus.
“Leave him! Lets get the hell out of this damn place!” said Erhard.
“Leave him?” said Klaus in shock of what was being said. Einglen nodded and Sigmund ran over, leaving Lenz behind. The team ran down the Alley and crossed into the house without event. It was only when they entered the doorway that their flight from the city would turn into a fight for their lives.

Einglen took the first step into the house. Voices above them rang out in the wooden house. As Einglen walked into the front hallway, so too did Klaus and Erhard enter. The Militia were to stand guard outside until they were told to come in. Sigmund would stay outside with them and Albrecht was staying in the alley, hoping that Lenz would come.
“Quiet, and move carefully. God knows wooden house’s creak like old men” said Einglen. Erhard, Klaus and he moved through the house looking for a door into the street. Einglen was the first to find trouble. As he moved into the living room he found a door, and a member of the Bloc Guard resting in a chair with his feet propped up on the table. He slowly drew his knife and slowly moved towards the man. Like a tiger he lunged for the man, his knee sliding below the chair and holding it above the ground, his hand over the mans mouth and the blade digging deep into his chest.
The man struggled for a second before growing still, and lifeless. Einglen raised the chair on his leg to its proper position and gently rested the mans upper body against the table. As he stood and took another step, a large creak rang through the house. For a second, Einglen thought that it went unnoticed. He took another step, and again a large creak rang through the house. The voices above him stopped.
“Comment ca-va?” called out one of the men from upstairs. Einglen took several more steps towards the door to the hallway before the Guard spoke again. “Francois, comment ca-va?” came the voice again.
“Oui, ca-va bien” called out a voice from the hallway. Einglen froze in fear. Raising his rifle he spun round the staircase, his rifle raised at Klaus.
Einglen sighed in relief at the sight that it was he, and not another guard who had spoke. The voices upstairs began again and the men were able to breath easy.
“Sigmund” Einglen said. The sergeant turned and walked through the door.
“Lieutenant?” he asked.
“We’ve found an exit onto the road”
“But?” asked the Sergeant.
“We can’t tell if it is clear or not. Someone needs to move round the side of the house and look down the street”
From off in the distance they thought they could hear someone.
“Do you hear that?” asked Klaus.
“It’s German” said Erhard.
They sat in silence for the next few seconds. Trying to make out what was being said.
“Did Albrecht come back with Lenz?” asked Einglen. The men stared out the door as the horrible realisation set in. From out in the courtyard they saw a whimpering Lenz walk towards the Bloc Guard. Albrecht was nowhere to be seen.
“What the hell is he doing?” asked Einglen.
To their horror, Lenz raised his submachine gun and fired at the Guards. The spray of bullets missed and the men up the stairs called out in shock at the gunfire.
“Shit!” whispered Klaus, as he and Erhard turned their weapons to the top of the staircase. Einglen and Sigmund readied their weapons on the staircase too. A burst of fire from the courtyard struck Lenz, sending him collapsing to the ground. The Militia guarding the door panicked at the sight they had witnessed and overcome with fear, they opened fire on the Guards. One of them dropped immediately and another one was struck. Gunfire came from the Alley and tore into another group of Guards who had been moving towards Lenz’ corpse.
The men in the 2nd level of the house sprang down the stairs, only to be caught in a volley of fire from Einglen’s men. As the sporadic gunfire outside turned into a full scale gunfight, one of the Militia were struck in the head and toppled backwards.
The soldiers inside the house ran to the door and fired into the courtyard. The second member of the militia was dragging his comrade inside the building when he was struck in the back, blood spraying out from his chest as the bullet passed through him.
The rumble of engines erupted from behind the house as a tank erupted out from the road and came into the courtyard. In the confusion, the vehicle drove past the house which Einglen was occupied and into the centre of the courtyard.
“Run!” called Einglen as the men sprinted to the back of the house and kicked open the door to the street. An explosion in the courtyard silenced Albrecht’s gunfire as the team rounded a corner onto the main road and found an unoccupied Jeep.
“Where is the key!?” yelled Sigmund as the Germans piled onto the vehicle.
“Oh this is great” said Klaus.
“What the hell do we do know?” yelled Erhard. Einglen drew his knife and drove it into the ignition slot for the key. The engine rumbled to life as he spun the blade, and the group speed as fast down the street as they could.
“Shit man … we just lost Albrecht and Lenz …” said Erhard.
“Man, just be glad we got out. It could have been you and me back there” said Klaus.
With his foot on the gas at all times, Einglen speed through the city and without any resistance, the group escaped the city and its 4 day siege. As they passed up a hill in the distance and looked back on the city, they could see it burn. Whatever defenders had been left in Stuttgart, they were the last to escape with their lives.


** I give you something I am rather proud of. Tell me what you think **
 
Last edited:
Esplendid writting.

Now... time for revenge! Relese the armored Samurai divisions and race to Paris!
 
The Fall of Germania - Part 4​

October 13 1936 …

Somewhere in Central Germany ...


Einglen collapsed against the tree. They had been driving for hours in the Jeep and only now did they stop to rest. Regardless of what they had though the state of the war was, it appeared that the German line had collapsed. From what they had gathered from refugee columns, the French had closed the Southern Pocket and were advancing in Northern Germany already.
“What are we supposed to do now?” asked Klaus.
“What does it look like we do? We keep going” said Erhard.
“But going where?” Klaus asked, his voice heavy with sorrow.
“We don’t know” said Sigmund, lying back in the field.
“We don’t know where the lines are. We don’t know how long this war is going to last and we can sure as hell bet that the French aren’t going to stop before they reach Berlin” said Einglen.
“So what does a soldier do when he doesn’t have any orders, no idea where to get orders, and no idea of the situation?” asked Erhard.
The men lay in the field, the Jeep left on the side of the road, its gas tank empty. It seemed so long since they had been able to just relax. So long since they had breathed fresh air, not hung with the stench of death and sulphur. So long since they had been able to feel the grass, to look at the clouds and to think of what they were doing. Einglen himself was thinking of his family. His wife in Kiel and how she might be hanging up clothing to dry, or how she might be baking some pastry whose taste he couldn’t remember. He didn’t even think of the possibility that Kiel was in danger of being overrun. What the other men thought of, Einglen could not be certain.
“What are we fighting for?” he asked the men. The pause between his question and their answer gave away their obvious surprise at this new found curiosity from their commander.
“Well … its for Germany right? For Freedom and Democracy?” said Klaus, unsure if it was the answer he should be giving.
“No. Were fighting because the French have their drawers in a twist and want someone to blame” joked Sigmund. The men chuckled at that, but it did not satisfy as an answer.
“I know what I’m fighting for” said Erhard. “I’m fighting for my kids. So they doesn’t have to be in the fight”
“Now that, is the reason I was looking for. We’re out here, fighting a lost war, so that the people back home won’t have to, right?” said the Lieutenant.
“But then if we’re on the retreat … then they’re in the war anyway? Right?” said Sigmund.
“So then what is the point of carrying on?” asked Klaus.
“Well … were not French” joked Einglen.
“No, its so that we can keep the fight away from our people who aren’t in it yet” said Erhard.
“And then take it to their people” said Sigmund.
The men lay there in the field. Realising the basic purpose of war. That they were fighting to stop it from reaching their cities, by taking it to the cities of their enemies. Whether that enemy be French or Russian or English or anything. Their job was to take the fighting off of German soil and into a city, packed with innocents of other country.
“I hate war” said Klaus.
“Don’t we all” responded Sigmund.

Stalingrad, Soviet Union ...

“Goodbye my friend” said Joseph Stalin, shaking Katsumoto’s hand. The two men smiled at each other while the plane finished fuelling for their flight to Tibet. “I do believe that I shall miss your company. So I have brought you something, as a token of friendship” said Stalin.
“Oh? And what might this be?” asked Katsumoto. In all of his 30 years, never did he expect that he would meet the leader of Russia. Nor had he expected that they would actually become friends.
“It was my Pistol during the Great War” Stalin said, presenting Katsumoto with an ornate wooden box. As it was opened, the satin lining of the interior displayed a Nagant M1895 Revolver. The weapon was engraved with Russian text along the barrel.
“Go with Resolve Greater than that of Men” read Katsumoto. The weapon was obviously a veteran of conflict, but none the less it had been polished to perfection and the handle had been bound in strips of leather. “My friend, I have a gift for you also” said Katsumoto as a member of the Tokyo Dragons came up behind him, wielding a sheathed Samurai sword. The Officer presented Stalin with the sword, which he readily accepted.
“Crafted from the finest steel in Asia, by the most skilled hands in Japan. I present to you this sword. A symbol of our friendship” Katsumoto said as Stalin slowly drew the blade from its sheath. The red and black handle did nothing to betray the beauty of the sword within the sheath. As he drew it, Stalin’s mouth grew into a smile as the steel of the blade shone in the sunlight.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“May it be, when Darkness falls, the Stars shine on You” said Katsumoto as Stalin marvelled at the blade.
“Such a fine gift is fit for a King” Stalin said, smiling at him. Stalin sheathed the sword and held it at his side, as Katsumoto took the box underneath his arm and carried it onboard the plane, taking one look back at Russia. While Katsumoto admired its beauty, he could not shake the feeling that he would return one day.


** Soon, the assassins will meet with Katsumoto. Any guesses on what is going to happen ?**