• We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Chapter 121

destroyedPzIII.jpg



25th June 1940

To the west of Brussels

Battleaxe had broken down. Normally this was something special, as the Crusader series was uncharacteristically reliable for a tank, but today it had to be expected after the heavy battles and retreats of the last few days. The Division was acting as the general reserve in the bottleneck that led to Brussels, and through which the BEF was retreating west. The Belgians had declared Brussels an open City and was busy evacuating everything of value, from the Crown Jewels to the Belgian Gold supply. The Royal Family had already left for London late on the 22nd, only the King remained to coordinate the defence until the last possible moment. Captain Niemczyk was far too engrossed in repairing the damaged fuel pump and the wonky transmission on the left side of his tank to be thinking about all this. He knew that there were those in the Belgian far right that blamed the British for abandoning the defence of Brussels, but from what he had seen the BEF was in no position to defend anything. B Squadron was down to eleven working tanks, all others had been destroyed in the desperate battles to the west or had been left behind as non-salvageable and spiked with all explosives that could be spared. Those that they still had were like Battleaxe in desperate need for maintenance, but the depots had also been lost. Niemczyk grabbed a hammer from the tool kit and gave the fuel pump a good bash. “Try now, Carter!” he yelled. The driver did as ordered, and the engine cranked into life after a few desperate coughs. Now at least they had power, but couldn't use it. Because of the broken transmission Battleaxe could not make more than four miles, and that was on good terrain. But at least power was restored, something that made Captain Niemczyk happy, for now he could use the wireless again.

Before he managed to switch the set on, Colonel Stafford walked up to his tank. “Ghent has fallen. The Frogs and the Belgians try to counter-attack, but god knows how much good that will do.” Niemcyk struggled not to let show that his heart had just fallen to his feet. If the Axies had the traffic junction in their hands there was nothing that could stop them from attacking the units that fought desperately to keep the Amsterdam and Brussels salients open. However before he could say anything, small arms fire erupted not too far from where they were standing. Without a word Niemcyk moved down into the turret and Stafford ran back to his own command tank as fast as he reasonably could given the bandage around his left thigh. The remaining British tanks rumbled forward as fast as they could, towards the fighting that grew ever louder. “Target identified, Panzer III, 12 o'clock, 1200 yards!” The Gun barked loudly and turned one German Panzer into a veritable imitation of a volcano. The Germans stopped to return fire and only now did the British realize what they were in for. They faced almost a Divisions worth of enemies, and all they had were two depleted Squadrons, the rest was god knew where. The regiment had been torn apart during the retreat, and so far the other two Squadrons had not shown up. Niemczyk did not care. “FIRE!” he yelled and another German tank died. Normally German Panzer doctrine called for either an air attack or a speedy charge if faced with Armour, but this time the Germans did neither and advanced slowly over the open ground, relying on their numbers to win them the day. The British took a heavy toll, firing so fast that in the case of Battleaxe Niemczyk began to fear that their gun might overheat. Suddenly the Regimental wireless network crackled with news that made his blood freeze in his veins. “All Acee and Beer stations, Harry Actual is gone, I repeat...” he did not listen. Able Six was Lieutenant Colonel Stafford. Niemczyk looked through his viewing slits and sure enough, there was his tank burning. His next thought was cut short by his loader. “Sir.....” This made Niemczyk look up and swallow the lump that had risen in his throat. As commander of B Squadron, he was automatically second in command of the Regiment, despite his relatively low rank. Normally this would have been the job for a major, but there was none to be had. “All stations, this is Beer Actual, I am taking over command, repeat, I am taking over. Continue to hold fast, lads!” And they did. Soon however the situation slipped from bad to downright “sticky”, and Niemczyk was forced to order the retreat. “All Stations, this is Beer Actual, fall back to stop line Red.” Battleaxe rumbled backwards, as fast as the broken transmission allowed, shooting off unaimed rounds that were more intended to make the Germans keep their heads down than actually hit anything. “Good, lads,” Niemczyk said to his own crew. “soon we'll be..” he was interrupted when a German 50mm round smashed into the forward Armour. The round did not penetrate, but sent splinters flying throughout the forward areas. Carter was killed instantly, and his splinter riddled body slumped forward over the controls, bringing the tank to a complete halt. Something started to burn and through the building smoke Niemczyk yelled “OUT! OUT!” until the men had 'escaped' onto the Battlefield. When Niemczyk followed, he got out just in time. As soon as he threw himself to the ground and started to crawl away, the ammunition started to cook off and Battleaxe exploded, showering the surroundings with splinters and burning fuel.

Niemczyk covered his head with his hands, and amazingly enough, he did not start to burn. He felt a quick sharp pain, so a splinter must have grazed him somewhere. He knew that if he stayed here he was dead, so he ignored the pain, scrambled to his feet and began to run towards the hedge behind which the remaining tanks of the two troops were making a stand. Oblivious to the bullets whistling past his head, he ran towards the line. When he reached it, he jumped over and through what remained of the hedge and went to look for his crew. When he saw them leaning against the earthen part of the hedge, he walked towards them. Garside spotted him first. “Bloody hell, Captain you are wounded!” At these words Niemczyk looked down his body, and sure enough there was a bloodstain on the side of his uniform just above his trousers. It didn't feel too bad, so he just said, or rather yelled, in order to be heard over the racket the guns were making: “It's nothing! Go make yourselves useful!” Niemczyk was at a loss what to do, and when Artillery started falling amongst the tanks. Forcing himself to ignore it, he improvised a bandage from his personal med pack and climbed atop one of the tanks closest to him. The gun fired, and he was almost thrown off, but he managed to raise his binoculars high enough to see what was going on. The Germans were still about a thousand yards away, and had decided to fight it out where they were. Niemczyk smiled thinly. Had they decided to charge, they could... no, they would have brushed the Brits aside, even more so as they were still essentially leaderless. Without a tank or a command post, he couldn't really direct the battle. He settled for the next best thing. The hedgerow had lost most of the growth by now, but the earthen part still provided an excellent position, so the British tanks were hull down. This had two advantages. For one, they could not be seen just as well as before, and secondly, this allowed the individual Tank commanders and gunners to take their time identifying and engaging their targets. He climbed forward and banged his hand on the hatch in a certain way. It tentatively opened, and the commander was sticking the muzzle of a Thompson in Niemczyk's face.

“Hold them off, Jones, do you hear? And hold fast, hold fast!” “Yes Sir!” Just as if to underscore that Jones had understood, the gun roared again. Niemczyk jumped down, and promptly his wound protested by hurting. Gritting his teeth, he ducked and ran towards the next tank, where he repeated the same as he had done before, all the while ignoring the Artillery fire that was falling around him. Sometimes he contended himself with yelling through viewing slits, sometimes he forced hatches open from the outside. Three hours later, after eleven more attacks had been repulsed. Wounded five more times and bleeding from his arms, both his legs and a ghastly slash across his face that would leave a scar behind, Niemczyk refused medical attention seven times. When he delivered his report to Generak Hobart who had brought the rest of the Regiment and the alert reserve of the Division in person of the 6th Heavy Tank Brigade with him, the Regiment had lost seven more tanks and five more were knocked out but repairable. The field was littered with knocked out and burning tanks. Panzer IIIs made good bonfires it seemed. In the end General Hobart ordered him to seek medical attention. Just before the stretcher Niemczyk was on was carried away Hobart said: “They tried to cut Brussels off. The 6th Indian Division stopped them in the south and you stopped them here. I am going to put you in for a decoration of some sort.”

[Notes: The Belgians fought bravely, and much better than I expected. Because of this they will be honoured with the status of favourite Ally by the Imperial General Staff. And yes, this is the actual RAF phonetic alphabet used up until 1942 in OTL, and I had the British Army adopt it. Link here.]
 
Captain Niemczyk deserves a promotion. :D
 
Each single update I fear to read that the Red thin line is broken and the Germans are racing to Paris, and each single update I find that it's not the case.

If I end having grey hairs on my head, I'll sue Trekaddict for that, I warn you.




:D:D:D:D





Changing Beer for Baker? Those Britons are mad!
 
Last edited:
from all that running around whilst wounded and stuff he sounds like a good candidate for a VC to me. and promotion is a given.
 
humancalculator And he will get it.

Kurt_Steiner :p

The change is probably more the fault of the Yanks.

BritishImperial Indeed he is to be the first VC of the war.
 
Hmmmm. What are the French allies doing- deciding how best to surrender and what shade of white flags is best?. Still, the first of many VCs I hope....
 
gaiasabre11 True.

Lord Strange More on the French soon. As for the VCs, I have awarded two so far. Probably more as the story moves along.
 
Hmmmm. What are the French allies doing- deciding how best to surrender and what shade of white flags is best?. Still, the first of many VCs I hope....

Nah, I say aside from drinking wine, Frenchies are preparing little gifts for people, heh, heh. :p (Refer to this)
 
Nah, I say aside from drinking wine, Frenchies are preparing little gifts for people, heh, heh. :p (Refer to this)

Nothing quite so nasty, but I'd wadger that MI6 is very busy in the more shadowy regions. :D
 
Heh is Lance Corporal Blogg's first name Joe perchance? :D
 
Ohh I see the Crusaders can hold their own against Panzer III´s... Bloody awsome old chap ;)
I´m almost sorry for the italians in the desert with their old tin cans! Well almost... :rofl:

True. The Italians are in for rough times, if, or rather when they decide to join. More on that in the next update.
 
Well then I´m truly looking forward to the next update...
"The Supiority of British Arms in Africa" or something like that.

Actually, it will be set in Rome.... :D
 
Yey! Is Mussolini shouting about superior brits, useless french and difficut germans in it????