There is no James Bond! But we all know Sean Connery in the role of Agent 007 Johannes Bund...
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dont forget the famous double agent skorzeny or much more well known by his english name, smith
*runs even further away from mad skorzeny followers than TC pilot*
Sinkinang, Nationalist China
November 19th, 1936
Inside the tent, only the tenous light from a kerosene lamp was holding the shadows at bay. They didn´t dare light a proper fire outside, despite the bitter cold of the Sinkiangese November night from fear of being seen by Guomindang patrols. The two Sinkiangese ex-POWs turned out to be officers of the defeated warlord army.
‘Now would be a good time to explain what really happened when the Chinese conquered your country’ said Nayland Smith. ‘After all, that’s what we broke you lads out for, to learn what happened.’
‘We are grateful, we will tell all that we know’ answered the older of the two, an ex-captain going by the name of Tze. ‘The first thing that happened was a disease – one morning, a few days before the Chinese arrived, many of my men had fallen ill. They looked green in the face, and were coughing and being sick all the time. We tried to isolate them, but within hours, almost all of my company was infected – including myself. It was the same in other companies, and in cities near the border the same thing happened – everybody, was going green in the face, vomiting, coughing their lungs up – but that was not the worst thing about it.’
‘What was?’ wondered Indy.
‘Even sick, we would have fought the invaders. But the disease also sapped our courage. Once I got infected, it was not like any disease I ever had; I just felt like lying down and die. And it was the same for everyone else. I later heard our guards call it the “Jade Fever”. All symptoms disappeared after about a month, but that was the worst month in my life. Some died from it, but most didn´t.’
The younger officer, a Lieutenant Jiang, nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, that´s how it was. I have never been so depressed in my life. It´s a testament to the courage of our people that any of our troops could work themselves up to fighting at all, but many did, perhaps as many as half of them. Then, when the Chinese attacked, we realised they were not normal either.'
‘How so?’ wondered Nayland Smith, a coldness growing in his guts.
‘They were like supermen. We couldn´t supress them, no matter what we did. Oh, they would take cover when we fired at them, but only when we brought a lot of guns to bear. And meanwhile, they would keep advancing against us in other places. They had no fear, none at all. And once they got into close quarters, they were invincible. I saw one of them take a shot in the guts from a rifle, and keep coming. I saw them run our men through with bayonets and fling them five-six meters through the air. I saw them sweep aside four or five men with a blow of the rifle butt, as if they were made of straw. I saw them rip the throats out our men with their bare hands. They fought like men possessed - like demons.’
‘Good Lord!’ gasped Nayland Smith. ‘Did you ever hear why they were like that? What had been done to them? The guards at the camp seemed perfectly normal.’
‘The guards were not like that,’ answered Tze. ‘They once made jokes about what we had liked going up against men “possessed by the Soul of the Dragon”. I got the distinct impression that they were frightened of it themselves though.
‘One thing that I’m curious about,’ said Indiana Jones. ‘You said that the disease spread to all your men within ours. Yet, did you ever see any sick Chinese?’
‘No, now that you mention it, I didn’t. It would seem they were immune to it.’
‘Now, that IS interesting.’ Bond commented. ‘Imagine that, a debilitating disease that only affects your enemies. It would seem the Chinamen have come up with something rather powerful.’
‘Not the Chinamen, Mr Bond.’ Nayland Smith said, shaking his head. ‘One particular Chinaman, and only him, could have concocted these fiendish means of achieving his aims. A new tailored disease, a drug or some other mean that turns ordinary soldiers into fearless supermen... This can only be the work of none other that the insidious Dr Fu Manchu! Now I have no doubts any more – he’s alive, and has finally launched his master plan to take over the Earth! May God have mercy on us all!’
November 19th, 1936
Inside the tent, only the tenous light from a kerosene lamp was holding the shadows at bay. They didn´t dare light a proper fire outside, despite the bitter cold of the Sinkiangese November night from fear of being seen by Guomindang patrols. The two Sinkiangese ex-POWs turned out to be officers of the defeated warlord army.
‘Now would be a good time to explain what really happened when the Chinese conquered your country’ said Nayland Smith. ‘After all, that’s what we broke you lads out for, to learn what happened.’
‘We are grateful, we will tell all that we know’ answered the older of the two, an ex-captain going by the name of Tze. ‘The first thing that happened was a disease – one morning, a few days before the Chinese arrived, many of my men had fallen ill. They looked green in the face, and were coughing and being sick all the time. We tried to isolate them, but within hours, almost all of my company was infected – including myself. It was the same in other companies, and in cities near the border the same thing happened – everybody, was going green in the face, vomiting, coughing their lungs up – but that was not the worst thing about it.’
‘What was?’ wondered Indy.
‘Even sick, we would have fought the invaders. But the disease also sapped our courage. Once I got infected, it was not like any disease I ever had; I just felt like lying down and die. And it was the same for everyone else. I later heard our guards call it the “Jade Fever”. All symptoms disappeared after about a month, but that was the worst month in my life. Some died from it, but most didn´t.’
The younger officer, a Lieutenant Jiang, nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, that´s how it was. I have never been so depressed in my life. It´s a testament to the courage of our people that any of our troops could work themselves up to fighting at all, but many did, perhaps as many as half of them. Then, when the Chinese attacked, we realised they were not normal either.'
‘How so?’ wondered Nayland Smith, a coldness growing in his guts.
‘They were like supermen. We couldn´t supress them, no matter what we did. Oh, they would take cover when we fired at them, but only when we brought a lot of guns to bear. And meanwhile, they would keep advancing against us in other places. They had no fear, none at all. And once they got into close quarters, they were invincible. I saw one of them take a shot in the guts from a rifle, and keep coming. I saw them run our men through with bayonets and fling them five-six meters through the air. I saw them sweep aside four or five men with a blow of the rifle butt, as if they were made of straw. I saw them rip the throats out our men with their bare hands. They fought like men possessed - like demons.’
‘Good Lord!’ gasped Nayland Smith. ‘Did you ever hear why they were like that? What had been done to them? The guards at the camp seemed perfectly normal.’
‘The guards were not like that,’ answered Tze. ‘They once made jokes about what we had liked going up against men “possessed by the Soul of the Dragon”. I got the distinct impression that they were frightened of it themselves though.
‘One thing that I’m curious about,’ said Indiana Jones. ‘You said that the disease spread to all your men within ours. Yet, did you ever see any sick Chinese?’
‘No, now that you mention it, I didn’t. It would seem they were immune to it.’
‘Now, that IS interesting.’ Bond commented. ‘Imagine that, a debilitating disease that only affects your enemies. It would seem the Chinamen have come up with something rather powerful.’
‘Not the Chinamen, Mr Bond.’ Nayland Smith said, shaking his head. ‘One particular Chinaman, and only him, could have concocted these fiendish means of achieving his aims. A new tailored disease, a drug or some other mean that turns ordinary soldiers into fearless supermen... This can only be the work of none other that the insidious Dr Fu Manchu! Now I have no doubts any more – he’s alive, and has finally launched his master plan to take over the Earth! May God have mercy on us all!’
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Bad Tölz, Bavaria
October 10th, 1936
Hannah raised the Walther PPK pistol, aimed carefully at the man-shaped target at the other end of the range and pressed the trigger. Despite wearing ear muffs she couldn’t help flinch at the bang, and the shot went nowhere near the target.
They were in an electrically lit underground shooting range at the Waffen-SS cadet training school of Bad Tölz. The idea that they should spend some time at Bad Tölz and acquire some combat skills had been Himmler’s. When informed of the things Reitsch and Skorzeny had come up with so far, he decided that they would have to be sent to Shanghai to follow up on the lead given by Captain Bauer. And given that there was obviously an opposition in play that had no compunctions about taking lives, the impromptu agents would need whatever edge they could get. Getting a gun, and the skill to shoot it, was just a start.
The SS Cadet training school of Bad Tölz, Bavaria
‘No, no, no, Fräulein Reitsch!’ said the Waffen-SS instructor in a tired voice. ‘First, grab the gun like THIS..’ He held Hannah’s arms in a way that pressed his body unnecessarily close to the lithe aviatrix. Otto Skorzeny, waiting for his turn to shoot growled at the back of his throat and gave the SS-Unterscharführer a look that promised hospitalisation unless he changed his ways.
The NCO took one look at Skorzeny’s impressive size, the scar, and the steel in his eyes and decided to drastically improve his manners right there and then.
‘…excuse me, Fräulein, like THIS I mean, lower the gun like this until you line up with the target and squeeze of the shot. Allow me to demonstrate.’
The NCO took the gun with both hands, lowered it slowly and squeezed of a shot that hit the round target on the dummy where a person’s heart would have been.
‘Thank you, Herr Schultz. Let me try again, please.’
This time, she achieved a hit, although a bit below the heart.
‘Much better, Fräulein Reitsch! We’ll make a decent shot out of you before you leave us. Now it’s your turn, Herr Skorzeny. Have you been doing any shooting before?’
‘Only with a hunting rifle. I never held a pistol in my life before.’ He looked at the Walther, which looked tiny in his huge fist. ‘Its so… small. Isn’t there something a bit more substantial? Like the guns they have in the American movies?’
‘This is the 7,65mm version, but it comes in 9mm Parabellum as well, it carries a bit more oomph. We can get you one, unless… hmmm…. You’re used to shooting rifles, you say? There might be something we can do for you then. Wait a second.’
The NCO went over to the weapons locker at one end of the shooting alley were an assortment of weapons were stored, and came back with a large wooden box, vaguely formed like a rifle butt.
‘Here you go, Herr Skorzeny. Open it please.’
Otto complied. Inside the box was a large automatic with the magazine forward of the trigger guard.
‘This is a Mauser C-96 automatic. It isn’t officially a Heer weapon, but since you will be working unofficially, I guess that doesn’t make any difference. Caliber is only 7,63 mm, but the ammo is more like a rifle than a pistol round; the bullet goes faster and hits harder. They say you can take out a bear with one shot from this baby. You can attach the box to the handle, like THIS so it becomes a stock of sorts, and shoot it like it was a carbine. Should be useful for an experienced hunter like you… and it can shoot full automatic fire. It will go through the 10 rounds of the magazine in the blink of an eye though, so be careful which the setting you choose. Ah, another bonus; they have been license building Mauser pistols in China for the last twenty years or so, and they’re quite popular, common as muck. You should have no trouble finding ammo and spare parts.’
Skorzeny's weapon of choice - the Mauser C-96
Skorzeny hefted the heavy weapon and looked at it like a man in love. Raising the Mauser, he placed the box-stock to his chin and held his left hand around the magazine. He took aim as if with a rifle and easily placed a shot square in the centre of the target ring.
‘Bulls-eye! I see we don’t need to waste any time on teaching you to shoot it like a rifle.’
Skorzeny disengaged the stock and set the gun to full automatic.
‘Careful!’ cried the SS NCO. ‘The kick is…’
‘Nothing I can’t handle!’ Skorzeny said confidently, and lowered the gun the way Hannah had. When he was aiming below the target circle, he pressed down the trigger and held it down. The gun bucked like a wild animal and a gout of flame half a meter long projected from the muzzle. The target dummy was ripped to shreds from the stomach to the head, hit by half a dozen or more bullets.
‘That guy died, and that’s all there is to it!’ Skorzeny said with grim satisfaction.
October 10th, 1936
Hannah raised the Walther PPK pistol, aimed carefully at the man-shaped target at the other end of the range and pressed the trigger. Despite wearing ear muffs she couldn’t help flinch at the bang, and the shot went nowhere near the target.
They were in an electrically lit underground shooting range at the Waffen-SS cadet training school of Bad Tölz. The idea that they should spend some time at Bad Tölz and acquire some combat skills had been Himmler’s. When informed of the things Reitsch and Skorzeny had come up with so far, he decided that they would have to be sent to Shanghai to follow up on the lead given by Captain Bauer. And given that there was obviously an opposition in play that had no compunctions about taking lives, the impromptu agents would need whatever edge they could get. Getting a gun, and the skill to shoot it, was just a start.
The SS Cadet training school of Bad Tölz, Bavaria
‘No, no, no, Fräulein Reitsch!’ said the Waffen-SS instructor in a tired voice. ‘First, grab the gun like THIS..’ He held Hannah’s arms in a way that pressed his body unnecessarily close to the lithe aviatrix. Otto Skorzeny, waiting for his turn to shoot growled at the back of his throat and gave the SS-Unterscharführer a look that promised hospitalisation unless he changed his ways.
The NCO took one look at Skorzeny’s impressive size, the scar, and the steel in his eyes and decided to drastically improve his manners right there and then.
‘…excuse me, Fräulein, like THIS I mean, lower the gun like this until you line up with the target and squeeze of the shot. Allow me to demonstrate.’
The NCO took the gun with both hands, lowered it slowly and squeezed of a shot that hit the round target on the dummy where a person’s heart would have been.
‘Thank you, Herr Schultz. Let me try again, please.’
This time, she achieved a hit, although a bit below the heart.
‘Much better, Fräulein Reitsch! We’ll make a decent shot out of you before you leave us. Now it’s your turn, Herr Skorzeny. Have you been doing any shooting before?’
‘Only with a hunting rifle. I never held a pistol in my life before.’ He looked at the Walther, which looked tiny in his huge fist. ‘Its so… small. Isn’t there something a bit more substantial? Like the guns they have in the American movies?’
‘This is the 7,65mm version, but it comes in 9mm Parabellum as well, it carries a bit more oomph. We can get you one, unless… hmmm…. You’re used to shooting rifles, you say? There might be something we can do for you then. Wait a second.’
The NCO went over to the weapons locker at one end of the shooting alley were an assortment of weapons were stored, and came back with a large wooden box, vaguely formed like a rifle butt.
‘Here you go, Herr Skorzeny. Open it please.’
Otto complied. Inside the box was a large automatic with the magazine forward of the trigger guard.
‘This is a Mauser C-96 automatic. It isn’t officially a Heer weapon, but since you will be working unofficially, I guess that doesn’t make any difference. Caliber is only 7,63 mm, but the ammo is more like a rifle than a pistol round; the bullet goes faster and hits harder. They say you can take out a bear with one shot from this baby. You can attach the box to the handle, like THIS so it becomes a stock of sorts, and shoot it like it was a carbine. Should be useful for an experienced hunter like you… and it can shoot full automatic fire. It will go through the 10 rounds of the magazine in the blink of an eye though, so be careful which the setting you choose. Ah, another bonus; they have been license building Mauser pistols in China for the last twenty years or so, and they’re quite popular, common as muck. You should have no trouble finding ammo and spare parts.’
Skorzeny's weapon of choice - the Mauser C-96
Skorzeny hefted the heavy weapon and looked at it like a man in love. Raising the Mauser, he placed the box-stock to his chin and held his left hand around the magazine. He took aim as if with a rifle and easily placed a shot square in the centre of the target ring.
‘Bulls-eye! I see we don’t need to waste any time on teaching you to shoot it like a rifle.’
Skorzeny disengaged the stock and set the gun to full automatic.
‘Careful!’ cried the SS NCO. ‘The kick is…’
‘Nothing I can’t handle!’ Skorzeny said confidently, and lowered the gun the way Hannah had. When he was aiming below the target circle, he pressed down the trigger and held it down. The gun bucked like a wild animal and a gout of flame half a meter long projected from the muzzle. The target dummy was ripped to shreds from the stomach to the head, hit by half a dozen or more bullets.
‘That guy died, and that’s all there is to it!’ Skorzeny said with grim satisfaction.
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Alas, that is the fate of us all nowadays, and until the Vicky hype is gone down, and everyone has the game and has played it enough to pick up HOI for a little while, then this forum will be neglected for Vicky.
Haha, I'm thinking of breaking up with my girlfriend for a weekend, just so I can enjoy some quality time with Vicky.
Haha, I'm thinking of breaking up with my girlfriend for a weekend, just so I can enjoy some quality time with Vicky.
Near Dazang airfield, Shanghai
November 21th, 1936
Hannah pulled back the flight stick, raising the nose of the Bf-110A, and pushed back the throttle. The two DB600 Jumo engines purred lower, as the heavy fighter prototype lost speed and edged closer to the ground. The plane was not only their means of transportation, it was also their cover story. Officially, Hannah Reitsch was flying to Shanghai to beat the speed record for mail flights from Europe to East Asia. Someone at the OKL, probably Milch, the buffoon, thought that the allies would believe for even a second that the Bf-110 was intended as a mail carrier.
The Bf-110A prototype called Lufthansa Post Express 1 that Hannah Reitsch flew to China in late 1936
‘How are you doing, Otto?’ Hannah asked in the intercom. Her enormous Austrian compatriot was sitting with the back towards her in the rear gunners position. Of course, there was no rear gun there now, this was supposed to be a peaceful mail flight. It was hidden in the minute cargo hold, while the four forward-firing machineguns and twin 20mm cannons had their muzzles covered with fabric. A peaceful mail carrier indeed.
‘I’m bored out of my wits, and I’m as stiff as Unterscharführer Schultz’s Schwanz whenever he was around you, but otherwise I’m just peachy, thank you for asking, oh Mistress Torturer. I mean, what is 20-odd straight hours of flight to complain about?’
Hannah guffawed despite herself. Was he jealous? ‘Not a straight flight, really. We landed at Chunking for refuelling just a few hours ago. I had the good sense to stretch my legs then.’
‘And you didn’t wake me up!?’ Skorzeny sounded scandalized.
‘But you were sleeping like a baby, I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. Besides, when you sleep is the only time you don’t sprout obscenity and sacrilege. Not much anyway.’
‘Girl, you’re wasting yourself with this flying business. You should go into the Gestapo, they don’t have a clue about what real cruelty is about.’ Skorzeny said bitterly.
‘Well, we’re about to land in Shanghai anyway, so your suffering is nearing its end. Now, the question is, what do we do next?’
‘I thought that was obvious:’ answered Skorzeny. ‘We go searching for that tart Bauer mentioned, Phallos Sue!’
‘Fah Lo Sue! Her name was Fah Lo Sue!’ Hannah protested, giggling. ‘It’s a Chinese name, you oaf!’
‘I’m not convinced. Don’t you think that the good Dr Morell might have been partial to American She-Male Prostitutes?’
‘Seriously, Otto, you’re impossible! Do you suffer from Tourette’s Syndrome or something? I think we should start looking at that club Morell visited before his disappearance, the Obi-Wan.’
‘I guess you’re right. I wonder what kind of place it is. Did you bring a dress?’
‘Yes. Now shut up, we’re landing.’
Hannah touched down with only a slight jolt to the aircraft and put the engines on reverse.
‘This is Dazang control to Lufthansa Post Express 1. the radio crackled. ‘Welcome to Shanghai, Miss Reitsch!’
November 21th, 1936
Hannah pulled back the flight stick, raising the nose of the Bf-110A, and pushed back the throttle. The two DB600 Jumo engines purred lower, as the heavy fighter prototype lost speed and edged closer to the ground. The plane was not only their means of transportation, it was also their cover story. Officially, Hannah Reitsch was flying to Shanghai to beat the speed record for mail flights from Europe to East Asia. Someone at the OKL, probably Milch, the buffoon, thought that the allies would believe for even a second that the Bf-110 was intended as a mail carrier.
The Bf-110A prototype called Lufthansa Post Express 1 that Hannah Reitsch flew to China in late 1936
‘How are you doing, Otto?’ Hannah asked in the intercom. Her enormous Austrian compatriot was sitting with the back towards her in the rear gunners position. Of course, there was no rear gun there now, this was supposed to be a peaceful mail flight. It was hidden in the minute cargo hold, while the four forward-firing machineguns and twin 20mm cannons had their muzzles covered with fabric. A peaceful mail carrier indeed.
‘I’m bored out of my wits, and I’m as stiff as Unterscharführer Schultz’s Schwanz whenever he was around you, but otherwise I’m just peachy, thank you for asking, oh Mistress Torturer. I mean, what is 20-odd straight hours of flight to complain about?’
Hannah guffawed despite herself. Was he jealous? ‘Not a straight flight, really. We landed at Chunking for refuelling just a few hours ago. I had the good sense to stretch my legs then.’
‘And you didn’t wake me up!?’ Skorzeny sounded scandalized.
‘But you were sleeping like a baby, I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. Besides, when you sleep is the only time you don’t sprout obscenity and sacrilege. Not much anyway.’
‘Girl, you’re wasting yourself with this flying business. You should go into the Gestapo, they don’t have a clue about what real cruelty is about.’ Skorzeny said bitterly.
‘Well, we’re about to land in Shanghai anyway, so your suffering is nearing its end. Now, the question is, what do we do next?’
‘I thought that was obvious:’ answered Skorzeny. ‘We go searching for that tart Bauer mentioned, Phallos Sue!’
‘Fah Lo Sue! Her name was Fah Lo Sue!’ Hannah protested, giggling. ‘It’s a Chinese name, you oaf!’
‘I’m not convinced. Don’t you think that the good Dr Morell might have been partial to American She-Male Prostitutes?’
‘Seriously, Otto, you’re impossible! Do you suffer from Tourette’s Syndrome or something? I think we should start looking at that club Morell visited before his disappearance, the Obi-Wan.’
‘I guess you’re right. I wonder what kind of place it is. Did you bring a dress?’
‘Yes. Now shut up, we’re landing.’
Hannah touched down with only a slight jolt to the aircraft and put the engines on reverse.
‘This is Dazang control to Lufthansa Post Express 1. the radio crackled. ‘Welcome to Shanghai, Miss Reitsch!’
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Oooh, the Obi-Wan (haha, such a great Indy joke, now a great HOI AAR joke).
M506, where do I sign up?! :rofl:
M506, where do I sign up?!
:rofl:
THE OBI-WAN!?
Now that's going too far
*Lucasarts copyright squad burst into the forum and drags Yogi away*
Now that's going too far
*Lucasarts copyright squad burst into the forum and drags Yogi away*
Originally posted by TC Pilot
THE OBI-WAN!?
Now that's going too far
*Lucasarts copyright squad burst into the forum and drags Yogi away*
Can't help it - that IS the name of the club at the start of "Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom". Lucas has nobody but himself to blame. :rofl:
Originally posted by Fuhrerdammerung
M506, where do I sign up?!
Right here, my friend!
Run away, it's TC Pilot! He's going to try to assassinate Skorzeny!
(I'm never going to forgive you for that, you know.)