-
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.
Since you've posted your notice in both threads I'll congratulate you in both of them. 
I do have a question, though. Is it really Yogi Jr. III? I think you're mixing generational nomenclature.
I do have a question, though. Is it really Yogi Jr. III? I think you're mixing generational nomenclature. Congratulations on the mini-Yogi! All is explained.
I thought it was called a "siren suit," though.
"Madam, all babies look like me."
He may have been the most babyfaced prominent historical figure ever.
Ooohhhh! THAT Randolph.GoforitPanzer said:
I thought it was called a "siren suit," though.
One time after the war, Churchill was visiting a family who had a newborn baby. The mother commented that the baby looked like him, and Churchill replied, with reason:Dr. Gonzo said:Hmm... reminds me of someone...
You know... but cuter
"Madam, all babies look like me."
He may have been the most babyfaced prominent historical figure ever.
Normally I say all babies are hideous and annoying but this one is pretty cute.
Congrats Yogi!
Congrats Yogi!
Thanks for all your congrats, people!
Unfortunately, it's not only the baby which is keeping me away from writing. My employer, the Swedish National Drug Policy Coordinator, is in the proccess of wrapping up and closing down, which means I as the chief administrator am busy wrapping up and closing down too - insanely busy. It also means I'm busy looking for a new job - hopefully I'll get good news about that later today.
Thus I won't be able to update for a little while longer. But updates will resume one day not too far away, I hope.
Unfortunately, it's not only the baby which is keeping me away from writing. My employer, the Swedish National Drug Policy Coordinator, is in the proccess of wrapping up and closing down, which means I as the chief administrator am busy wrapping up and closing down too - insanely busy. It also means I'm busy looking for a new job - hopefully I'll get good news about that later today.
Thus I won't be able to update for a little while longer. But updates will resume one day not too far away, I hope.
I miss your writing, Yogi, but it sounds like you have a lot of things going on in your real life (as I can understand) so I'll keep patiently waiting...
Thanks for understanding Met. I miss writing too!
Believe it or not, Dinglehoff, but I agree 100% with this. I never liked babies one bit, until I got my first one, and mine are still the only ones I like, all other are hideous and annoying. (Present company heirs excluded, of course)
Dinglehoff said:
Believe it or not, Dinglehoff, but I agree 100% with this. I never liked babies one bit, until I got my first one, and mine are still the only ones I like, all other are hideous and annoying. (Present company heirs excluded, of course)
:rofl:The Yogi said:Believe it or not, Dinglehoff, but I agree 100% with this. I never liked babies one bit, until I got my first one, and mine are still the only ones I like, all other are hideous and annoying. (Present company heirs excluded, of course)
Good luck with everything, I hope you're able to transition jobs smoothly.
Well, thanks for all the support and patience! Things are quieting and winding down at work now, so there was some time to write a bit, perahps more will come soon (although I'll probably have to update III Reich in WWIII first).
Anyway, here you go, after the long wait: an update! This one takes us back to Moscow, for another Stalin-Zhukov rendez-vous:
Anyway, here you go, after the long wait: an update! This one takes us back to Moscow, for another Stalin-Zhukov rendez-vous:
Moscow
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
Thursday July 25th, 1940
The Taman Guard lieutenant at Stalin’s door intercepted Zhukov, stepping in front of him, his jaw clenched in determination and a sub-machine gun held as a barrier before him.
‘My apologies, Comrade General, but Comrade Stalin has given strict instructions not to be disturbed under any circumstances.’
Zhukov closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, trying to control his temper. Then he bored them like twin ice-blue lances into those of the Taman guardsman.
‘Lieutenant… if you value your career, your life and your teeth, step out of my way RIGHT THIS INSTANT or so help me, I’ll have you picking them up from the floor! Stalin’s life and the future of the Soviet Union are at stake here – keeping his drinking binges secret do NOT rank in importance with that!’
The soldier swallowed. He was supposedly from an elite unit, but one that had seen no action so far. In the flint-hard eyes of Grigori Zhukov, he could read impending doom at so many levels. He reached his decision quickly enough and stepped aside.
‘Yes, Comrade General! My apologies, Comrade General!’
Zhukov wasted no more time with the fool and threw open the door. Stalin jumped up from the sofa, a half-empty bottle of vodka in his hand, his face flushed with anger and intoxication. He was apparently well beyond such niceties as glasses and ice.
‘What is the meaning of this, General!?’ the “man of steel” roared. As for taking his drink, he was living up to his nickname. He was clearly fabulously drunk, but his speech had only the slightest slur to it. Strong peasant stock indeed, Zhukov thought.
‘Comrade Stalin, with all due respect, please shut up!’ he roared right back, his blood up. He instantly regretted it – dealing with a drunk tyrant this way could easily prove fatal.
Stalin’s mouth fell open in outraged amazement, and for a few instants he actually complied, probably out of pure shock. Zhukov seized the opportunity like a drowning man a life-vest, rushed over to the window facing the Red Square and threw it open. Immediately, a low, thunder-like rumble became audible.
‘You DARE…’ Stalin began, but Zhukov cut him right off, knowing that the only way he would survive Stalins rage would be not to let it take hold.
‘Those, Comrade Generalissimo, are German guns. Manstein’s Panzer Group has broken through at the canal. Guderian is across the Moskva river at Kolomna. Our forces are shattered, routed beyond all hope of recovery. It’s only a matter of hours, before the pincers meet east of the city.’
Shockingly, Stalin’s lower lip began to tremble, his eyes watered and he collapsed in tears on the sofa.
‘Lost!’ he wailed. ‘All that Lenin built, we have lost! Woe for the revolution! Woe for mother Russia! All lost, all in ashes!’
‘But for God’s sake!’ Zhukov muttered in disgust, reverting to an older pattern of speech. ‘Comrade Stalin, please take hold of yourself. You must come with me right now, the last train that MIGHT get through will leave from Yaroslavl station as soon as you are on board. There is no time to loose.’
The tyrant rose, wiping his eyes with his none too clean sleeves. ‘All right, General, whatever you say. Let me just collect myself…’ He lifted the bottle and took another hefty swig, stood up somewhat unsteadily and began to walk towards the door. Zhukov couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
‘Comrade Generalissimo, your coat and uniform cap, please! You must look the part, impart confidence. And I’ll take the bottle, please!’
Stalin meekly complied, after carefully screwing on the cork. ‘Here you go, Zhukov. Guard it with your life!’ he added with a wink, as if in jest.
Zhukov nodded stiffly. What a fall of fortunes, he thought. Once had stood ready to guard the Rodina with his life, now he was the custodian of a drunken Georgian peasant and his bottle of vodka. It was not in his rustic nature to appreciate how quickly and meekly Stalin had folded to his anger, or how quickly and willingly he had accepted the role of taking orders, rather than giving them. Neither did he consider the power this subservient tyrant placed in his hand, nor how others of Stalins entourage, players for power all, would react to it.
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
Thursday July 25th, 1940
The Taman Guard lieutenant at Stalin’s door intercepted Zhukov, stepping in front of him, his jaw clenched in determination and a sub-machine gun held as a barrier before him.
‘My apologies, Comrade General, but Comrade Stalin has given strict instructions not to be disturbed under any circumstances.’
Zhukov closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, trying to control his temper. Then he bored them like twin ice-blue lances into those of the Taman guardsman.
‘Lieutenant… if you value your career, your life and your teeth, step out of my way RIGHT THIS INSTANT or so help me, I’ll have you picking them up from the floor! Stalin’s life and the future of the Soviet Union are at stake here – keeping his drinking binges secret do NOT rank in importance with that!’
The soldier swallowed. He was supposedly from an elite unit, but one that had seen no action so far. In the flint-hard eyes of Grigori Zhukov, he could read impending doom at so many levels. He reached his decision quickly enough and stepped aside.
‘Yes, Comrade General! My apologies, Comrade General!’
Zhukov wasted no more time with the fool and threw open the door. Stalin jumped up from the sofa, a half-empty bottle of vodka in his hand, his face flushed with anger and intoxication. He was apparently well beyond such niceties as glasses and ice.
‘What is the meaning of this, General!?’ the “man of steel” roared. As for taking his drink, he was living up to his nickname. He was clearly fabulously drunk, but his speech had only the slightest slur to it. Strong peasant stock indeed, Zhukov thought.
‘Comrade Stalin, with all due respect, please shut up!’ he roared right back, his blood up. He instantly regretted it – dealing with a drunk tyrant this way could easily prove fatal.
Stalin’s mouth fell open in outraged amazement, and for a few instants he actually complied, probably out of pure shock. Zhukov seized the opportunity like a drowning man a life-vest, rushed over to the window facing the Red Square and threw it open. Immediately, a low, thunder-like rumble became audible.
‘You DARE…’ Stalin began, but Zhukov cut him right off, knowing that the only way he would survive Stalins rage would be not to let it take hold.
‘Those, Comrade Generalissimo, are German guns. Manstein’s Panzer Group has broken through at the canal. Guderian is across the Moskva river at Kolomna. Our forces are shattered, routed beyond all hope of recovery. It’s only a matter of hours, before the pincers meet east of the city.’
Shockingly, Stalin’s lower lip began to tremble, his eyes watered and he collapsed in tears on the sofa.
‘Lost!’ he wailed. ‘All that Lenin built, we have lost! Woe for the revolution! Woe for mother Russia! All lost, all in ashes!’
‘But for God’s sake!’ Zhukov muttered in disgust, reverting to an older pattern of speech. ‘Comrade Stalin, please take hold of yourself. You must come with me right now, the last train that MIGHT get through will leave from Yaroslavl station as soon as you are on board. There is no time to loose.’
The tyrant rose, wiping his eyes with his none too clean sleeves. ‘All right, General, whatever you say. Let me just collect myself…’ He lifted the bottle and took another hefty swig, stood up somewhat unsteadily and began to walk towards the door. Zhukov couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
‘Comrade Generalissimo, your coat and uniform cap, please! You must look the part, impart confidence. And I’ll take the bottle, please!’
Stalin meekly complied, after carefully screwing on the cork. ‘Here you go, Zhukov. Guard it with your life!’ he added with a wink, as if in jest.
Zhukov nodded stiffly. What a fall of fortunes, he thought. Once had stood ready to guard the Rodina with his life, now he was the custodian of a drunken Georgian peasant and his bottle of vodka. It was not in his rustic nature to appreciate how quickly and meekly Stalin had folded to his anger, or how quickly and willingly he had accepted the role of taking orders, rather than giving them. Neither did he consider the power this subservient tyrant placed in his hand, nor how others of Stalins entourage, players for power all, would react to it.
Last edited:
Yay, an update!!
So will Fu's troops arrive in time to save the Soviet Union?
And will somebody else (Berija?) take over for Stalin?
So many new questions open, but hopefully there will soon be further updates to answer them.
So will Fu's troops arrive in time to save the Soviet Union?
And will somebody else (Berija?) take over for Stalin?
So many new questions open, but hopefully there will soon be further updates to answer them.
Yay, update !
Found this AAR a few weeks before Christmas, been waiting for an update ever since.
!Found this AAR a few weeks before Christmas, been waiting for an update ever since.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not Moscow! Not the third Rome!
Zhukov, take it back, NOW!
Not Moscow! Not the third Rome!
Zhukov, take it back, NOW!
:rofl:
He has his priorities straight
I'm half expecting german commando's to show up at any moment.
Thanks for the update!