Crossfires, a French AAR for HoI2 Doomsday

[Prufrock451]

France has built a conservative Empire for itself, spanning most of Europe. That means that since the Alliance is broken, Britain will be curling itself around the US like a python. Good luck getting in between the Anglo-American cousins.

No, I'm afraid you're going to have to come to terms with the horror of Bolshevism and decide how you want to partition Germany.

I vote Molotov.

 

[oddman]

MORE interesting characters ! It's going to be a tough choice if I have to draw lots for them !

Fortunately, we don't know your method of lot-drawing so there a lot of, ah... wiggle-room, if you understand what I'm saying .

 

[unmerged(61296)]

Fortunately, we don't know your method of lot-drawing so there a lot of, ah... wiggle-room, if you understand what I'm saying .

Thanks for your touching faith in my intellectual honesty !

I'll write their names in post-it notes and see which one get picked up. But they are all interesting characters, so I'll try to include them all in the story at some point.

 

[unmerged(58852)]

my vote is for Lieutenant Gordon Drake! since King and Country is on hiatus.

 

[4th Dimension]

It would be nice if someone could make additional events so it is possible to recreate the history of your France. For example an event that has chance of assassinating Mussolini, or failing badly and resulting in a war with Italy. If communists coup the Rep Spain, you get a free, event induced war with communists.

That way Ai might actualy stand a chance in '40 against Germans.

 

[unmerged(61296)]

It would be nice if someone could make additional events so it is possible to recreate the history of your France. For example an event that has chance of assassinating Mussolini, or failing badly and resulting in a war with Italy. If communists coup the Rep Spain, you get a free, event induced war with communists.

That way Ai might actualy stand a chance in '40 against Germans.

If I had the required computer skills, I'd be happy to put together a "Crossfires mod", as I have quite a few ideas about the events which could be fired up. These could include, among many others :

- a successful negociation of France's war debts issue (trading additional money production for negative rep with the US)

- the settlements of the German war reparations issue (trading additional supplies for belligerence and negative rep with the former foes)

- Italy choosing to defend Austrian neutrality and deterring a German Anschluss

- Spanish Nationalists calling for French/British Help (triggering a Soviet Event giving more war matériel to the republicans and increasing chances of Spain turning Stalinist)

- League of Nations economic sanctions, restricting foreign-supplied resources.

- Colonial troubles, temporarily raising dissent in the country's colonies, making it necessary to keep some troops there. This kind of event could turn into a colonial war, with Partisans able to create independent nations.

- etc...

Similarly, I think a failed coup or assassination attempt in a neutral or allied country, regardless of who does it, should have a chance of backfiring and result in war.

 

[Prufrock451]

Similarly, I think a failed coup or assassination attempt in a neutral or allied country, regardless of who does it, should have a chance of backfiring and result in war.

I agree! I'm still trying to write my way out of a failed coup attempt with no resultant war.

 

[unmerged(61296)]

I agree! I'm still trying to write my way out of a failed coup attempt with no resultant war.

Which reminds me....UPDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE !!!!!!

 

[Eams]

Which reminds me....UPDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE !!!!!!

No, you've gotten that wrong... We (the so-called "fanboys" or, as I prefer to refer to us; the intellectual and aesthetic elite) cry out for updates, and you provide them, preferably on a daily basis.

 

[unmerged(61296)]

No, you've gotten that wrong... We (the so-called "fanboys" or, as I prefer to refer to us; the intellectual and aesthetic elite) cry out for updates, and you provide them, preferably on a daily basis.

Fear not, o loyal readers, the updates, they are a-coming.

Next ones will deal with :

- the situation developing in Brazil
- the coming French presidential elections
- a small group of nice pensioners in Berlin
- Japan's operations in Asia
- Siam's ambitions

 

[Prufrock451]

I'll make you a deal- let's BOTH update.

*runs off to type*

 

[4th Dimension]

If I had the required computer skills, I'd be happy to put together a "Crossfires mod", as I have quite a few ideas about the events which could be fired up. These could include, among many others :

- a successful negociation of France's war debts issue (trading additional money production for negative rep with the US)

- the settlements of the German war reparations issue (trading additional supplies for belligerence and negative rep with the former foes)

- Italy choosing to defend Austrian neutrality and deterring a German Anschluss

- Spanish Nationalists calling for French/British Help (triggering a Soviet Event giving more war matériel to the republicans and increasing chances of Spain turning Stalinist)

- League of Nations economic sanctions, restricting foreign-supplied resources.

- Colonial troubles, temporarily raising dissent in the country's colonies, making it necessary to keep some troops there. This kind of event could turn into a colonial war, with Partisans able to create independent nations.

- etc...

Similarly, I think a failed coup or assassination attempt in a neutral or allied country, regardless of who does it, should have a chance of backfiring and result in war.

These are doable, except the last two.
That is if you mean that last two could fire for any country in any war/colony.

But if you have specific, nations, colonies, wars in mind, I think it can be done.

 

[unmerged(61296)]

These are doable, except the last two.
That is if you mean that last two could fire for any country in any war/colony.

But if you have specific, nations, colonies, wars in mind, I think it can be done.

I was indeed thinking about a generic "colonial unrest" event, but I guess it can be broken down to country-specific events : French Indochina and Africa, British ME and Est Africa, Dutch Indies and Belgian Congo. I don't remember large-scale unrest in Italian colonial possessions, but a similar event could be done too.

 

[unmerged(61296)]

CHAPTER 40 : GOLPE




In the days preceding the coup, tank battalions were deployed in Minas Gerais​

All in all, Preston Cyrus Miller was beginning to like Vargas. Either by purpose or instinct, the Brazilian President kept his guests on edge, with his destabilizing habit of being the classic, oily spic politician one minute, and a wily old fox the next. Miller was beginning to realize the Gaucho histrionics, the flourish, and the Latino bombast were only a front Vargas liked to put up to keep one's eyes busy while he moved his own pawns elsewhere on the chessboard. And when he was ready, all of a sudden Vargas turned shrewd businessman, like he had done during their early supper. There were men who craved booze - Miller had dealt with thousands of them during the Prohibition. There were men who craved women - Miller had known hundreds of them in almost every branch of business. And there were rarer and infinitely more dangerous men who completely, absolutely, relentlessly craved power - Miller knew but a dozen of such men, and he had always made sure he worked for them, but he recognized the same ravenous hunger in Vargas' eyes when he talked about his plans for Brazil.

As for Miller's own addiction, even though he seldom admitted it, he craved challenge, danger and excitement. And that Brazilian president was the best he had had in years.

The presidential motorcade was moving fast along a narrow road, with Hector, Vargas' driver, giving its true meaning to the expression 'pedal to the metal'. Of course, traffic wasn't an issue in a province where having a couple of mules was all millions could hope for. The three cars were yiw-yawing around gigantic open-air mines, their berms or terraces descending all the way to the core of what had been a hill decades before, and which now looked like cyclopean steps leading to the private Hell of a colossal monster. Vargas was now precisely saying something about that, about how the elder folk of the displaced peasants liked to tell horror stories about the things which would crawl up the "stairs" one day.

What rubbish. The most terrible monster is a frightened young peasant in uniform, with a rifle and a sharp Bowie knife attached to it thought Miller, who could not help assimilate the mine pits and trenches with the torn fields and artillery craters he had seen up close in France during the Great War.

Contrary to his employers, who waged merciless wars from their comfy offices, without ever having to look at Death until their very last moment on this Earth, Preston Cyrus Miller had grown familiar with its presence, its power, and its stench. As a young Lieutenant of General Pershing's expeditionary forces in France during the Great War, he had see men die in French, British, German, ANZAC and American trenches. He had seen them riddled with bullets, dying of gangrene, bleeding to death on barbed wire, obliterated by falling artillery ordnance. He had prayed for God, and instead had seen the Devil - or worse, nothing except a war that killed blindly, never caring for nor giving any meaning to what it did. Sometimes, when he thought about his current job, he thought he probably had sold his soul to the Devil in these days of steel, fire and fury. Not that his employers were the Devil, of course. No, the Devil was inside him - it was the part of him who wanted to do his employer's bidding in every dangerous and seedy place they did business in, because if he didn't then life felt bland and dull. To men like Miller, danger had become an addiction.

Enough daydreaming, he thought. You'll take a trip down Memory lane later if you want, now there's a job to do.

Vargas, who had been telling Miller - for the third time - how he had managed to stop a miners' strike two years before, was leaning forward to pat his chief bodyguard's back.

"Florimonte could tell you, some of these union guys, they were the biggest beasts of burden I had ever seen. Wasn't that so, Florimonte ?"

"Si, senhor Presidente. They were oxen, truly" replied the bodyguard, obediently cheerful.

"So, senhor Presidente, my employers are ready to invest, and invest heavily, in the Brazilian economy if we can reach some mutually profitable agreement about these mines you have here and about the shipyards" said Miller, all businesslike again.

"The Isla da Cobra's shipyards, eh ?" mused Vargas, who, Miller could now see, had instantly reverted to his shrewd persona.

"Yes. You see, securing the ore for our European partners is good, but one also has to be able to deliver the goods. Our partners could use their own cargo fleet, of course, but..."

"But in the event of a war such ships could be sunk, while a neutral nation's could sail freely to another neutral port, I guess."

"Exactly"

"So you'd like to build a neutral fleet here, which will be entirely devoted to your, ah, partners, with the added benefit it would be protected by its Brazilian flag. Depending on the number of ships, I think it can be agreed upon, provided transportations fees are paid in full - and beyond given the nature of your demand - by the third party which will be your front in the country we'll ship the goods to. Which country have your partners in mind ?"

"Well, the thought about Sw....what's that rumbling noise ?" he suddenly asked, as the car was approaching a series of roadside sheds.

"I don't kn...JESUS CHRIST !" yelled Vargas, startled by a sudden flash and a loud explosion. A lighting bolt had suddenly appeared in front of them, as a real monster moved into sight.

Acquired from France after the Great War, the Renault FT-17 tanks fired the first shot of the 1938 coup.​

Surging from behind a roadside shed, a light tank had lurched forward, ramming the forward escort car while firing its machine gun at the hapless bodyguards. Riddling it with bullets, the tank's rammed the car, its seven tons easily pushing it off the road and into the mine pit. As Hector stomped on the brakes and turned the presidential sedan's wheel, Miller got a glimpse of the first car crashing a few dozens meters below.

Instantly, Miller opened his door and used it to shield himself from view. As he had half-expected, another tank had surged immediately behind the sedan, masking it from the second escort car. Before he could even figure what to do next, the tank fired a shot at the rapidly approaching car, turning it into a fireball which ended its course slamming into the tank's armoured flank in a loud crunching sound. The tanks's turret began turning towards the sedan.

Now that the bodyguards had been taken care of, Miller was sure the assassins, whoever they were, would close in to finish the job. Having no intention of turning into a hunting trophy, he cast a last look at the inside of the presidential sedan. Vargas had been stunned when Hector had steeped on the brakes, and his had had violently slammed on the window. Dazzled, startled, confused, he would never run fast enough. Miller wouldn't have minded having Florimonte with him, for the muscular bodyguard seemed more than able to fend off for himself and for both of them actually, but he was on the wrong side of the car, opening his door with his gun drawn. So that left Hector.

Turning toward the driver, Miller felt the icy finger of Death touch him. He had been too startled by the suddenness of the attack to notice half of the reinforced window shield had been shattered. Hector was lying, lifeless and crumpled, in the driver seat, his torso lacerated by bullets. If it hadn't been for his mongoose-like reflexes, Miller too would have been killed.

And it still can happen if you stay here thinking about it, you idiot ! thought Miller. Without hesitation, he ran from the car and out of the road, tumbling down the steep slope towards the dark mine. As he heard foreign voices shout things he couldn't understand behind him, Preston Cyrus Miller found himself wondering if the old womenfolk of Minas Gerais weren't right, after all, about the monsters and horrors that laid below.

Desperate to stay out of sight of his pursuers, who he could now hear puff and probably curse maybe 50 meters behind him, Miller practically ran downhill whenever he could stand, sliding whenever the slope could allow him to do it safely. The sun had set, and the shadows seemed to well up from the bottom of the mine. As Miller tried to follow a steep haul road that was probably used by mules to bring non-essential goods to the miners, he slipped on a patch of mud. Cursing and praying in the same breath, he fell head first towards the mine's next berm.

Fortunately for Miller, he landed on top of a heap of dirt, the earth that had been taken when the wall along the terrace had been dug out for ore. His mouth half full of dirt, the taste of mud on his tongue, Miller extricated himself from the heap of earth and stopped. Right before him, not even a dozen meters away, lied a sinister and twisted shape he only identified from the smell of spilled gasoline. It was the first escort car, lying on the side, shredded by the tank's bullets and oddly bent by its fall. Falling on his knees, Miller frantically searched the ground around the car, whose dented front half was hanging over the terrace, ready to drag the whole car into another fall.

From what he could hear, he had but a few seconds if he wanted to keep his advance. But if he could find one of the dead bodyguards' guns, his pursuers would regret not letting him alone. He stifled a cry of triumph when his fingers brushed against a piece of cold steel, but it became a cry of rage when he realized it was simply a lighter. Still, he pocketed it and ran towards a series of dirt heaps lined up against a wall, digging madly into them with his bare hands, the smell of fresh earth brining back memories of the Argonne battlefield where he had killed his first man.

He had barely managed to half-bury himself into the heap when his pursuers arrived, sliding along the same steep and tricky haul road he had fallen from. Darkness was almost complete now, and so he heard the five men more than he could see them. They sounded young, but maybe it was only his lack of experience in Brazilian Portuguese. He imagined them not unlike the young German soldiers he had fought in Argonne, their excitement taking the best out of caution, their big, childish smiles ready to turn into masks of fear and agony if one did one’s job swiftly enough. Still, young or not, these men were no dummies. Leaving two sentries, whose silhouette was barely visible under the night sky, the leader of the group took his two other men down another haul ramp, which descended into the next berm. Miller felt trapped. As soon as it would dawned upon them that he couldn’t have the time to go any lower, the five men would start searching the mine, their two teams inspecting two berms at a time. If he stayed here, he’d be caught and killed, he had no doubt about it. If he moved, he would be heard and the chase would resume, this time at close range.

The manganese mine under a less sinister light​

Still, he had to move. Extending his arms slowly, to let the dirt trickle down without making any noise, Miller flattened to the ground and began to crawl very cautiously and very slowly from pile of dirt to pile of dirt. From what he remembered, there were a dozen of them, and if he kept up in any direction hopefully he’d find another mule trail far enough from his pursuers so he could climb it without making noise. He had to be very careful, as he could not see anything, his line of sight locked by the heaps. If he wasn’t careful enough, if he let darkness disorient him, Miller could find himself out in the open, or even worse, fall off the berm. As he started negociating the third heap, his hand touched some sort of branch, and he suddenly felt something slipping and about to fall just in front of him. Terrified, his reflexes fired up by fear and tension, he thrust his hand forward, almost blindly, and caught the handle of some tool before it could crash on the berm’s floor. Letting his other hand get a solid grip on it, Miller touched his way around the tool. He was holding a shovel. Slowly, a demented smile crept its way through his dirty face. Somewhere in the outer regions of his conscience, the guns began to rain down fire and steel on the Argonne battlefield.

Crouching, Miller began to crawl around the heap to get a better line of sight. The two sentries had chosen to stay side by side, close to the car, where they could try to see their three companions on the lower berm. One of them seemed to be kneeling, probably in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the second group, which Miller could hear talking. Probably they were reaching the conclusion he could never have gone this far. With his left hand, Miller tested the floor of the berm. As he expected, there was a thick layer of soft earth, residue from the extraction process. Putting the shovel against the next heap, he took his shoes off and place them behind him. Then he grabbed the shovel, stood up as completely as he dared, and his arms raised above his head, he ran towards the standing man.

As Miller’s bare footsteps were muffled by the berm’s floor, the man never heard him before it was too late. He turned around just as Miller’s arms brought the shovel down in a swift, murderous and whirring arc that ended in a wet, dull thud as the blade cut deep into his skull. Miller didn’t lose any time shaking the shovel loose, and let the dead man fall backwards over the berm’s edge. Even before the standing man started his last fall he kicked the kneeling man wildly, his bare foot nabbing him in the chin. A sudden explosion of pain told him he had probably broken or displaced several of his toes, but he let a cry of victory go as the man, losing his balanced, also fell over the edge. Below, Miller heard an explosion of voices, as the three men were racing to see what the ruckus what all about. Wincing every time he put his foot on the ground, Miller hobbled to the car. Another explosion of voiced told him the men had found their fallen comrades. In a minute, they’d climb the ramp.

But it’s already too late. Adios, amigos ! thought Miller, who felt a pang of intense pleasure when, after a simple push, the car fell into the lower berm and onto his pursuers. And when immediately after he threw the lighter, Miller felt more alive than he ever had in twenty years.

The cries of agony, below, accompanied him all the way to the other side of the berm, where he proceeded to find a way back into Belo Horizonte.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------​

[Game effects : Brazil suffers a coup on
May the 24th, 1938. Luis Carlos Prestes, Stalinist, replaces Vargas as head of State, while other Left-Wing radicals initially agree to stay in the same government. As the coup deeply divides the Brazilian army, Argentina’s Juan peron declares war on Brazil on May the 30th. As a result, Chile and Salvador also suffer a Communist takeover, and declare war on Argentina, but also Columbia and Peru, whose governments choose to support Peron. Venezuela begins to send feelers to Paris to have its independence guaranteed (which is done in mid-June)]

 

[unmerged(61296)]

BTW, I drew lots. Winner is....is.....is......Otto Skorzeny !

"Ach ! You love me ! You really love me !!" *wipes a tear away with his P-38 pistol*

The other runners are very interesting historical figures. So they WILL get their updates, too, as soon as the story develops.

Now I have to think of a way to put the good Herr Skorzeny in the story !

 

[aussieboy]

Oh, great... a world war over some goddamned Latin American tinpot dictators...

 

[unmerged(70464)]

Dont often see a south american war in an AAR on a European country.
Is this a war between the USA and USSr, or a proxy war between the two?

 

[unmerged(61296)]

Dont often see a south american war in an AAR on a European country.
Is this a war between the USA and USSr, or a proxy war between the two?

In strictly game terms, it does involves the USSR, but not the USA. The minute they'll choose to intervene, it will be World War II. Or III.

I wanted a different zone of tensions to have something for the US to do (possibly) and Latin America / The Carribean also interest France, England and the Netherlands since they have possessions over there.

 

[4th Dimension]

Maby Otto will try to kill the French president. That would be a surprise.

 

[unmerged(61296)]

Maby Otto will try to kill the French president. That would be a surprise.

Now that's a an idea !