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The War Monger

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Dec 17, 2006
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A short preface, I am aware that the game is as yet unreleased and thus I shall not actually be advancing from the start date at all before that point. However, the plan is for the AAR to be mainly narrative in style and thus between now and release I will work on backstory. As to the nation I am planning on playing I am hoping it is self evident from the first update. My prologue will touch on those I plan on having as my main characters as well as the pre-1936 timeline of my chosen nation.

I am fairly rusty at the whole AAR writing thing having not written much since my Byzantine AAR which was cut short. As such my opening posts may be somewhat rusty but I shall try my utmost to make them interesting. I will be getting up my first update today and probably every 2-3 days after that. Anyway, wish me luck.

Settings:
Difficulty: Normal
No IC/Tech Team takeover
 
Tom's Story; Part One


Mons ~ 22nd August 1914


'Our first battle is a heavy, unheard of heavy, defeat, and against the English - the English we had laughed at.' ~ Walter Bloem, Reserve Captain, 12th Brandenburg Grenadier Regiment

'Altogether, the British commanders were not ill-satisfied with the day's work. The men, too, were in high spirits, for they had met superior numbers of the most highly renowned army in the world and had given a good account of themselves' ~ Official State History

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British_16th_Lancers.gif


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Wiping his forehead nervously with a handkerchief pulled from a pocket of his scarlet cavalry jacket the young lieutenant glanced to the head of the cavalry formation. Reassured that his break with proper officer decorum had gone unnoticed by the senior lieutenant or worse, the captain, he quickly composed his face before urging his mount to a fast walk to bring him alongside the senior officers. Snapping off a quick salute he listens as the captain details the objectives of the patrol before turning to the junior officer.

‘Ah, Tom, I knew my instinct would prove correct. A man who comes from as good a line as you do was always destined for an officer’s commission. I am glad that you have settled in so quickly, tell me how do you find your men? I assume you have been impressed by the eagerness displayed as well as their discipline? It’s a symptom of the cavalry lad; we are simply a cut above the rest of the army, a sort of unofficial, but recognised, elite.’

Allowing a slight smile to turn the corners of his mouth Tom nodded his head almost eagerly at the Captain’s words. Allenby had always been a friend of the family and it showed, allowing Tom a commission in his unit, despite the regrettable incident at Sandhurst. Unconsciously moving a hand to reassure him that his rank braid was there Tom took a moment to formulate a reply.

“I must admit, as the linemen cannot overhear, that I was slightly overwhelmed at first, however the professionalism of the men is infectious and I cannot imagine myself anywhere else but in the cavalry Ed…err…I mean Captain. If you don’t mind me enquiring why are you leading the patrols yourself sir? Is that not unusual?”

The captain turns slightly allowing a wry smile to turn the edges of his mouth while glancing at the senior lieutenant before returning his gaze to young Tom with an almost severe expression. In combination with his almost bullish features and pencil thin moustache the look could only be described as ‘British decorum’.

“Tom, I must say you disappoint me, a gentleman must command in a sober and refined manner, he must not show his emotions upon his face and above all should not form bonds with the men under his command. This allows for a proper analysis of any situation without being forced to hesitate due to having to send a friend into a potentially fatal position. So wipe that smirk off your face and save it for when you are larking about with your friends back in England. As to leading this patrol myself I have had word that limited numbers of the 2nd Kuirassers have been spotted, that means we will be opposing the full weight of the German 1st Army. I am here to certify those reports as well as to make certain that the proper forms are being kept. Namely, any German that shows his helmet spike around here does not make it back to their headquarters.”

Nodding to himself Tom shifts his sword to a more comfortable position. Meeting the captain’s eyes he expressed the worry that had been gnawing at him since before deployment into Belgium.

“Sir, we will win this war wont we? Only, the German army is meant to be the best in the world and has taken Paris once before. This move of the Germans to attack through the lowlands has neatly circumvented the French fortifications; meaning we have to defend in this unsuitable terrain.”

Allenby allowed an expression on to his face that was positively shark like, his mouth moving into a visiciour grin and his rather heavy brows drawing down.

“Don’t you worry Lieutenant, the Germans have no idea of the size of our deployment here in Belgium, and it is our job to ensure they continue to labour without that knowledge. The Germans are sending their best army right into a well laid trap and they will pay for it, we shall show them the colour of British steel and they will flee. Tom, we will have forced them back into Germany by winter, don’t you worry.”
 
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Also, short note, in the tradition of other authors, whomever manages to work out who each of the 4 main characters who will be covered in the prologue are wins a prize. Granted it is not a huge one, basically if they provide me with a suitable name, not necessarily one which firs with the country I am playing, just an actual name, I will write them in.

Oh and the first character is Tom, not Edmund Allenby :)
 
Tom Wintringham, surely?
 
Sadly not. What I will say as a clue is that the link between Allenby and this persons family is created for reasons of storyline :)
 
Tom's Story; Part Two


Le Cateau ~ 26th August 1914


'Charging the 5th Prussian's reminded me of nothing more of charging through horizontal hailstones, though no hailstone was ever as deadly as the bullets from that German machine gun nest.' ~ Philip Tremaine, Horsemen in the 16th Queen's Lancers.

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16L-FranceSept1914.gif


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Tom shivered almost involuntarily as a shell exploded within metres of his horse. Putting forward a calming hand he brings it quickly back under control. Looking back at his men he saw that they had seen his shock but the look in their eyes showed no lessening of respect. Bringing his attention back towards the front of the troop he saw the signal for him to move forward to receive orders. Making his way to the small gathering of officers he saw Captain Allenby holding up a map and pointing at several locations several hundred metres in front of the British line and off to the left.

"Ah, Tom, glad you could make it. As I was explaining the Germans have set up batteries opposite our lines, however a majority of them are too well protected by the hills, therefore our job is to relieve the unremitting pounding on the flank of the infantry. Our men our British but there are only so many shrapnel shells any man can stand up to unflinching. Now, unless we manage to relieve this pressure on our left flank it seems likely that it will crumble and allow the Germans to swing around our flank and trap us against the canal. This cannot be allowed to happen, I have told you all your targets. Tom, your men and the rest of the 16th Queen's Lancers have been detailed to take the battery furthest west. Our informants have told us it is manned by the 5th Prussian Artillery, a professional bunch and they have an attached machine gun group so it could get bloody!"

Riding back to his men he had them follow the rest of the 16th as they peeled off from the road and made their way at a canter towards the position detailed to them. As they moved past the furthest advance of the British lines the whole troop seemed to look to their right almost without thought, feeling suddenly exposed. It had been too much to hope that their movements had gone unnoticed by the Germans and within minutes the shells which had been falling mainly on the flank of the infantry was falling on the advancing cavalry division. The commanding officer quickly called for order before, when the cavalry reached within 300 yards, the effective charging range, calling for the charge. What the men who had decided upon this manoeuvre back at headquarters had not considered was that the effective range of the machine gun was also around 300 yards.

As Tom advanced in strict line with his men towards the artillery battery he began to hear the buzz and whine as bullets shot past him. Looking down the line he could see horses tumbling as they were hit with as many as twenty bullets. Their riders catapulted to land almost like rag dolls in the mud. Setting his lance Tom, almost despite himself began to laugh, not the laugh of a man enjoying a jest but the maniacal almost desperate laugh of a man who was certain his death was upon him. Suddenly the rain of metal death halted, Tom didn't pause to wonder why, if he had he might have considered a jamming in the German machine gun, due to the heat of constant firing warping the loading chamber.

No, what Tom and the rest of the 16th did consider was that they were but 50 yards from the enemy position, the gap narrowing so fast that it seemed the horses were almost flying, then the charge hit, ragged and with gaps due to the machine gun fire it still rolled over the artillery troop like they were not there. Quickly butchering the small infantry troop protecting the guns, the lancers set about pinning the barrels to ruin their usefulness, before setting the gunpowder store to burn on a long fuse. Riding back to British lines Tom saw Allenby, his face alight with glee and his sword held high the sunlight showing the crimson run of blood running down its length. The BEF may have been in retreat, but it would bleed the Germans every inch of the way back to the Marne. The confidence of Allenby was infectious and Tom found himself believing, at least for a short while, that perhaps the war could still be over by Christmas.
 
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Tom's Story; Part Three


Netheravon ~ 12th December 1914


'Like knights we were, our steeds were Camels and our swords were Lewis guns, but we had a code, as strong as any medieval knight, and to us the fights in the sky were more important than those on the ground.' John Fitzgerald, Pilot RFC 1st Flying Wing

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2869973607_9a7b53216c.jpg


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Looking up at the sky and adjusting the brim of his cap Tom looked back and wondered why he had accepted the offer to join the Royal Flying Corp. Perhaps it was that glorious charge at La Cateau where he had felt like he was flying, though that was probably just a symptom of the pure terror he had felt riding straight into machine gun fire. Adjusting the rank braid on his cuffs he stood almost at attention his hands behind his back, looking down the road he soon made out the form of the family motor carriage. Glancing quickly around and seeing no senior officers he allowed himself the slightest of smiles. His mother and sister had been allowed to come visit him here which was a pleasure for him. As it seemed likely that he would be shipped back to the front once his training was complete.

As his mother and sister disembarked Tom walks over and offers his hand so that they may both alight without impinging their dignity. Mindful of the guards at the base entrance watching he gives but the most formal of welcomes, a bare brush of a kiss to his mother's cheek and the lightest of hugs to his sister. Nodding his head to the guard he guides his visitors off for their tour of the base. Once out of earshot of the guards he allows himself a small smile, which rendered the small moustache he had taken to wearing quite comical. As they neared the aircraft hangers he began to talk animatedly.

"Ah! Dearest Mother and my favourite sister, Hyacinth, I am overjoyed that you were granted the opportunity to come here. I know that my letters to you conveyed the war in France and I know father is disappointed that I left the Lancers but the land war is no longer the place for gentlemen. From now on I will be a gentlemen of the sky! I must show you the newest aircraft which has been shipped here, for testing at first before going to the front lines. With it we pilots shall truly be knights of the sky, each one mounts a Lewis Machine Gun on the front and will allow us to shoot the damn Germans out of the sky, I apologise for my bad language there mother."

Arriving at a hanger that looked almost newly build Tom dragged open the wide doors before leading his mother and sister in. Bowing while extending a hand he presented them with the biplane with its seemingly cloth and wood based frame. Walking briskly towards the aircraft he turned a smile not openly spread across his face.

"Watch this, we are taught ways of embarking without the use of a ladder, should one be unavailable."

So saying Tom grabbed the top of the wing and swung his weight twisting in mid air, however as his body came down it seemed evident that he was not lined up properly before his foot caught on the edge of the wing, turning what was intended to be a graceful vault into a tumble. As Tom landed his mother and sister both cried aloud in shock as they heard a wet crack followed by a scream of pain from Tom. Running as fast as they might they searched for the base doctor to no avail leaving Tom injured on the floor for almost half an hour......

 
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The writing is very good so far, although you should capitolize Camel, as it is the name of the plane. Without it, it seems like he is riding camels in the desert.
 
Oh A KRAAR!