• Crusader Kings III Available Now!

    The realm rejoices as Paradox Interactive announces the launch of Crusader Kings III, the latest entry in the publisher’s grand strategy role-playing game franchise. Advisors may now jockey for positions of influence and adversaries should save their schemes for another day, because on this day Crusader Kings III can be purchased on Steam, the Paradox Store, and other major online retailers.


    Real Strategy Requires Cunning

misterbean

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Stauffenberg? *winks* Well, I can't remember where off hand exactly, but I remember Tristan kills him in the previous "real time" stuff.

FYI:

I'll be fixing an error I noticed in the current flashback installment. For some reason I thought it was in Warsaw when its at Seelow Heights.
I remember Tristan killing him, but from his thoughts, it seemed like he didn't trust him or maybe had a score to settle or something.
 

TekcoR

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I remember Tristan killing him, but from his thoughts, it seemed like he didn't trust him or maybe had a score to settle or something.
I re-read the piece, yes. Tristan doesn't necessarily trust him. I'll develop that backstory a bit more.
 

TekcoR

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Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Flashback

Chapter 8
In the Dawn They Attack: Part 1



I awoke, groggy, my eyes hardly willing to accept the reality what the ears were hearing: the Soviets did not care how long the party went on, a war is being fought. My eyes though faulty were not necessary in the important to hear distinct whistling sound of incoming artillery. As the morning before, I rolled off the bed, though the action took about five seconds longer. The shell exploded shocking the ears and forcing the eyes to remain closed as the shattering of glass, broken cement fragments could be felt raining down.

War rode in on the back of the wind and kept me forced on the ground as shells whistled signaling their income. The explosives lifted up piles of dirt, gravel, cement, and a flood of other materials, voided amongst the list, glass. The first handful of glass left minor cuts on partially exposed skin, mostly the hands that instinctively raced to cover the vital face. The safety of the bedroom and dwellings in general were in question, as without a doubt the Soviets had studied well the defenses of Seelow and the nearby dwellings well.

The whistling of shells came to an end in a matter of minutes, reminiscent of the bombardments I had witnessed back in the first war. While the French and British were proponents of day to week long bombardments, our own artillery preferred brief ones that lasted a few hours. With the end of the bombardment, it would be difficult to tell if the attack would begin, like we had suspected the day before or the attacker just wished to catch the defenders off-guard and out in the open. I had seen several friends in the First War expose themselves, only to be blown to pieces the next moment. Staying in the dwellings carried a risk as it could serve as my tome. Fleeing had its own risks, being blown up and flung across the landscape; but it escaping the tome like domain is the only real option.

With not much of a second thought I crawled from underneath the bed and lifted myself off the floor, sending glass shards and other debris that had collected off my uniform and onto the floor. The thought of leaving the building the convention way did cross my mind; however I decided to jump through the hole of the former window. My actions startled a private who haphazardly lifted up his Karabiner 98 Kurz.

“Relax private,” I said with a calmness that has been collected over years of warfare.

“Yessss, sir,” he stuttered, overwhelmed with fear. I remember when I first saw a person’s reaction to war; the symptom had been diagnosed as shell shock. Though like war’s progression to deadlier technologies more adept and killing, the term shell shock has been replaced with combat stress reaction. However, a large portion of the leadership of the regime and military infrastructure deemed combat stress reaction not as a disorder, but rather a sign of cowardice on the individual and a failure of leadership by the soldier’s chain of command.

“Private, things will only get worse. If you listen to me you will survive,” I looked over the private again, he looked eerily familiar to Sebastian. “Do you know where General von Witzleben’s is?”

“Yes, sir,” the private said with grip of fear loosening.

“Good, lead the way,” afraid though calmed by the chance to find relative safety he proceeded with a moment of delay.

Once we got underway the private’s fears seemed to completely subside, his mind had switched its concentration from fear to the task at hand; which often was the cure. I noticed that every few meters he would look back over his shoulder to check on my position, most likely afraid that I would fall behind. “Private,” I said startling him and bringing his feet to a screeching halt that nearly caused him to lose balance. “There is no need to continuously look back, I will yell if there is a problem.”

He nodded and looked curiously up into the sky trying to track a sound that my voice had helped mask. “Take cover!” he yelled frantically while slamming himself into the muddy ground adding another layer of the elements to full canvas.

I guess I had judged wrong, the Soviets were had planned for a lull in the bombardment to draw us out. The sight in the private’s eyes were of amazed horror, as he looked up to see me still standing the shell having soared over head and landing more than a safe distance away. “I will also say when to take cover.”

“Yes, sir,” he said as he brought himself out of the mud and back to his feet.

I did not care to advise him that my sense of artillery judgment had been wrong and it wouldn’t comfort him nor have any effect on the chances of survival. War is a game for the wise, it is almost criminal in the sense that the smart people send dumb people off to die. The dumb ones are easily placated by the façade that they are fighting to defend their country against whatever is the necessary excuse, all while the smart cats sit far away from reality while increasing their prestige and power. The difference between the private and myself, I have come to realize that I am a piece within the game, but I can and will affect the end result.






 

KLorberau

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Something tells me that General Witzleben may not have survived the artillery attack. Just a nagging thought......
 

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Something tells me that General Witzleben may not have survived the artillery attack. Just a nagging thought......
I'm pretty sure he survives, he's a bit too integral in the conspiracy. I'll have to see, I haven't fully decided what happens in part 2 but it's going happen.
 

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TekcoR

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Sorry about the long delay between installments.

Been in a much more of a reading mood and burning through some very good books (some were about the Nazis) while I'm reading more American revolution-era and American Civil War books. The interest for Alptraum hasn't diminished, just pushed to the back burner while I reinvigorate myself with reading.
 

Kurt_Steiner

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Ok. We'll wait.

And then, send to dogs after your bones!!!! REVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENGE!!!!


:rolleyes:
 

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Ok. We'll wait.

And then, send to dogs after your bones!!!! REVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENGE!!!!


:rolleyes:
Sometimes I feel as if I'll never get enough writing done until I'm dead. The good news besides reading is, I've also been in an editing mood and fixing a lot of little mistakes I've noticed and taking the writing up a notch or two. There is a lot of little tidbits of information in the edited documents that are Alptraum than what's available here. Maybe those will one day be shared in a book format.

/nudge nudge wink wink Paradox Books?
 

KLorberau

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Heeeeeesssssssssssssss back.......come on TekcoR...we have waited a long time......You must surely have lots of great ideas to add to this great AAR.....just put them to paper and let us partake in them...........
 

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Heeeeeesssssssssssssss back.......come on TekcoR...we have waited a long time......You must surely have lots of great ideas to add to this great AAR.....just put them to paper and let us partake in them...........
I know we've all waited for a long time. There are some ideas in how to handle certain situations that arose with the inclusion of a certain general in the last installment. I would say this "AAR" has transformed initially from the AAR stage to full flung novel. The expanse of where Alptraum will go is pretty far. As a spoiler alert, something eventually happens to Hitler. With that said what you guys see here a lot is really the first draft put into words after the basic ideas have been formed.

I might have something special around Christmas, who knows?
 

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Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Flashback

Chapter 8
In the Dawn They Attack: Part II



“Colonel, when will the shells end?” said Klassen, I had advised him to tell me of his home and life back home in order to calm him while we huddled in the earthly safety of a fox hole.

I thought for a moment, I had been commandingly dishonest with him. “Private,” I said reconsidering for a millionth time the words before they would come out. “Private, I am not sure. This has lasted a lot longer than I expected, but we will survive.” I couldn’t reveal the whole truth; there would be an end; however long it would take. Perhaps the Soviets were looking at setting a new record for the most bombardments started in a twenty-four hour period; one could only wonder what transpired in an enemy’s mind when shelled into a foxhole.

Klassen’s face brightened with a glimmer of hope. The words “Yes, sir,” were uttered with a great sense renewal.

Twenty agonizing minutes passed. At least twenty tons of artillery shells had been effortlessly lobbed into the air and rained down upon our position. The young privates new found sense of survival however remote in actuality having never been dulled. I looked into the young boy’s eyes, barely older than Sebastian, perhaps a year or two but no more than eighteen years old. The disillusionment exploded in his eyes, he had been trained to believe that in Hitler’s Germany the Aryan race is supreme, that in combat against the undesired sub-humans the master race would triumph. Yet Klassen’s eyes showed that all is not right. He had perhaps recently been transferred to the Eastern Front and I had quite possibly even saw and unceremoniously passed over the one paper of hundreds that came across my desk within a week, condemning Klassen and hundreds of thousands of children like him to their death.

“So---,” I said interrupting myself choking back tears and withdrawing precious thoughts. “Soldier. Private Klassen, it sounds and looks like the bombardment has concluded. Follow me,” I said as I climbed the out of the fox hole that eerily resembled a trench I had willed myself out a dozen times as a young lieutenant no older than the current age of the soldier I found myself leading.

With the grace of the wind at our backs Klassen and I raced across the pock marked terrain. There seemed to be one crater for every meter we ran, a good three hundred meters to the supposed safety of the von Witzleben’s headquarters, where blond-haired and blue eyes Klassen had mentioned he would be. I expected to arrive to a building demolished, sandbags strewn as impromptu mounds for the obliterated corpses with limbs floating around like noodles in a soup. Yet when we arrived the building stood as if nothing happened.

Two guards stood outside the entrance to the building with their pristine uniforms, the buttons glistening in the bright sky and oblivious to the thunderstorm. I snapped to attention and pulled down the tunic of my uniform straightening it out and sending a cloud of dust into the air.

I drew closer to the building and when within two meters the guards snapped to attention as the one on the left conducted a salute with his gun. “Good afternoon, Colonel.”

“Is the General in?”

“Yes he is, sir.” The guard who saluted motioned for the other guard to open the door which he did without much delay in carrying out the informal order.

“Stay here, so…Klassen,” I said catching myself as I walked through the door before the same guard who opened it closed it, hardly waiting before I cleared the door’s frame.

**********​
“Schnack, you made it!” said General von Witzleben, his eyes judged the dirtiness of the uniform it glistened better than before but never as well as his or his colleagues. The families of wealth that had controlled the power before the fall of the Kaiser ran the conspiracy, their families pride had been stomped upon by the common man Hitler, yet he still employed people like von Witzleben, von Gersdorff, von Breitenbuch, and von Tresckow in the military. These men have provided great inspiration and sacrifice to the whole of Germany, but they as a whole collective would never accept you because you were not of noble birth. The top echelon of the conspiracy; which I had been thrust into believed in the restoration of the monarchy one that had not ruled a single person for 24 years now. While they tried to hide their intentions those who had the means and key assets that the aristocracy lacked knew the truth. We came together as strange bedfellows knowing that we were using each other and once Hitler and the war had come to an end we would go back to the class divides and struggles, we would no longer need to put on the show of swallowing our pride and bearing each other.

“Yes, yes I did sir.”

“The situation is dire,” he looked at my uniform with the ever judging eyes that had been trained to look so calm. “As I’m sure you know,” he didn’t finish the rest for he didn’t have to; the words either intended or not were well implied.

I approached the table that he commanded like the king he thought he deserved to be. “I have received reports of the Soviets attacking here, here and here.” His finger pointed to each spot on the map and clearly indicated that the only direction our lines were not being attacked from stood to be the rear.

“Tristan,” he said trying to add more empathy to what I knew he would ask me. “I’m going need you to help coordinate the defenses, we have to hold out. You have read up on how the Soviets conduct bombardments and their attacks, your assistance with providing that information and what to further to expect will be critical,” he felt as if he could go on forever trying to make the common man aware of the gravity of the situation and how all people regardless of their class would lose if the Soviets were to penetrate our defenses and move on towards Berlin. His words of empathy by using my first name played no decision into motivating me into saying yes to brave round, another tick in the column of torturing combat and decisions that had grown countless.

I snapped to attention and saluted as the master of safety dismissed me into a world he only thought he understood. I returned to the young Klassen who had taken this brief time of reprieve to catch up on sleep. He lay almost lifeless in the grass that served as a majestic bed that few noblemen would deem worthy of their status. I slightly raised my voice to startle the young teen from his impromptu slumber and went off with him to fulfill yet another mission to earn the mark on the column of deeds done for the state and its rulers.







 
Last edited:

Kurt_Steiner

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I have to reread the whole thread...

Oh, Tristan, you're in the frontline again and there's no way to avoid bloodshed...
 

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It is with a sad heart that I can confirm that work on Alptraum has stopped, not because I don't love the project and writing experience but I've been burned out by Nazis. Who would have thought that could happen, I mean they are so loveable dressed up in their shiny and tight black uniforms...

I haven't stopped writing just my time is currently occupied in finishing up a manuscript for a science fiction novel that's taken a lot of time and research. Not as much research as Alptraum (read close to 300 books, articles, other sources about events, leaders, personalities, whole bunch of technical details).

I'll keep you readers updated for when Alptraum comes back and if the science fiction novel gets published.
 

misterbean

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Not entirely unexpected, of course. I wish you luck in all your endeavors and hope to meet you again on the forum someday. Good luck.
 

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Not entirely unexpected, of course. I wish you luck in all your endeavors and hope to meet you again on the forum someday. Good luck.
Yeah. I do have a history of cancelled projects. The science fiction novel though is near completion, being edited then gotta sell it. Uh.
 

Kurt_Steiner

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We'll wait.