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unmerged(46967)

American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
0


Detroit, Michigan
January 1, 1936



The freezing wind and snow almost blew him off his step. It kept most of the smell of this neighborhood away from his nose, which was a small blessing in itself. His black coat covered most of his worker overalls and his boots crunched the slush and snow on the sidewalk. Twice now he passed different wrecks from the snowstorm, but luckly noone was hurt.
Just another normal day in Detroit thought Karl Dietler. It was indeed pretty normal for him. The snowstorm that has lasted for about 2 weeks seemed nothing to him, having survived worse storms in the past, especially in '32 where his family had their heat cut out and almost froze to death for seven days. He was unemployed then, fresh out of highschool and looking for a job. In the Depression, noone was hiring anyone, so he had to spend a year looking till he was lucky. Some customer at his fathers business talked about needing some new workers to replace some that went to jail for bootlegging. His father mentioned Karl and soon the customer, a factory manager for Chrysler, hired the young man and paid him $2 an hour; not bad money. So for most of his time, he went to work, painting the chasis, and went back home. At first, he was glad he had the job to get by, but now...It's just too damn boring Karl said in his head, grimacing as he did so. But he knew when he was well off.
Karl rubbed his temples as he went around the corner. Like most American families, his celebrated the coming new year with alot of beer. Like any German, he took it well enough, but not enough to keep him from having headaches. He just grumbled and walked on.
Detroit seemed dull at this point. The tall smokestacks of the autoplants the only structures penetrating the thick fog. Having lived in this city for most of his life, Karl took them for granted. Every once in awhile, he stopped and admired the power of this city. He had one of these moments when he suddenly bumped into another man.
"Hey watch where the hell you're go--". Karl snapped out of it before he saw his co-worker, Tony Jenkins. Tony halted in his roar when he recognized his buddy for five years. He grinned when he caught a glimpse of Karl's eyes. "Seems you had a fun night."
Scowling, Karl simply replied, "Oh shove it Tony, not like you're a virgin to alchohol your own self."
"Oh, but I hide it better."
"Sure, just like a elephant in a whore house." Both men laughed and embraced each other. Tony Jenkins was, like Karl, a car painter at the same plant who came from some town in Ohio from a family of doll makers. When that business bankrupted in the fall of the Stock Market Crash, Tony managed to get a job up in Detroit painting cars instead of dolls.
Tony handed Karl a cigarette and lighted it before they kept walking to work. "Heard some interesting news yesterday in the plant."
Karl raised his eyebrow and took a puff before going on. "Oh, enlighten me."
"Well apparently I heard the company is looking towards these new machine tools that supposedly are the latest. Ford and GM are also looking into them, thanks to FDR from what I heard."
"More cars to make eh?"
"Yeah, supposed to make more supply. The government wants everyone to start buying stuff on the market so one way to do that is make more cars I guess."
Karl blew some smoke out of his nose. "Eh I don't care much, as long as I got a job and money,.I don't care if we're making 10,000 cars for the masses or 1 car for King George, as long as we're useful."
Tony nodded "As long as we're useful." Both men finished their cigarettes before entering the Chrysler autoplant and clocking in. Karl made sure the paint compartment was full and that their machines were operating well enough. He managed to don on his mask before the line started up again. He took his paint gain and started sweeping the front of the Airstream chasis with milk white paint. Another painter did the other side, looking concetrated. Karl simply shrugged, Just another normal day.
He worked without much further thought. Only a couple times did he stop to unclog something in his paint gun, but his supervisor didn't mind. When the lunch bell rang, Karl set down the paint gun, took off his mask and breathed in fresh air that wasn't exactly fresh. He went into the meal hall and ate his burger without much small talk. Everyone else was talking about either the new year parties they had or telling dirty jokes to their companions. Some of the jokes he heard were quite funny, while others...just bored him. Today, he just kept quiet through his lunch hour and went back to work after the bell rang again.
Four hours later, the bell rang one more time, signalling that was the end of the shift. Karl picked up his lunch box and clocked out, putting on his coat before going back out in the elements. His route back home wasn't that far, so he walked back instead of taking the trolley. Although this decision had it's cons.
"Care to spare a dime pal?". A homeless man with a long black beard and tattered rags came up to him. Karl usually helped those he thought needed it, but smelling the whiskey in this man's breath, he simply walked past him. Instead of cursing him, the hobo sighed heavily and waited for another passerby.
Karl managed to survive the cold and snow to get to his parent's apartment, just 2 miles from the auto plant. He scooted off the snow on his boots before walking in. Taking the stairs to the third floor, he knocked on the door.
"Wer ist es??" called a voice from behind the door.
"Ihr Sohn Karl" he replied. The door opended and his mother Heinretta, a middle aged woman with long blonde turning grey hair, embraced her son.
Still speaking in German, she went on. "Glad you're back home dear."
Karl nodded "So am I. Almost busted my rear getting to work because of Tony." He hung up his coat and workers cap on the hooks near the door. It was a big sized apartment, able to accompany three people. His parents took one room while he took another bedroom. Along one part of the living room was the fireplace, already burning wood to keep the apartment warm. On the mantle stood five photos, Karl and his brothers. His elder brother Heinz died long before he was born, dead from clashing with Socialists while part of one of the numerous Freikorps that sprung up after the armistice. The next one, Albert, was currently a German officer whom was able to stay in the 100,000 man post war Reichswehr and become an infantry regiment commander in Essen. The twins, Luther and Joachim, were long married now, the former living in New York while the other lived in Miami. Then there was Karl, a picture in a suit and tie.
His mother returned to the kitchen while his father, Ulrich, smoked a pipe in his favorite chair near the fireplace. He puffed out a smoke cloud before saying "Evening son. Glad you're here, got something we need to talk about."
Karl's interest peaked. "Oh? What is it?"
However his father shook his head. "Not right now, waiting till dinner." Karl shrugged and sat down in his own chair, reading the newspaper that his father was done with. Most of the news was on the presidential primaries and on some corruption case in city hall. Karl didn't much care about the city hall and he was a rock-ribbed Republican in a state full of Democrats, an oddity to most of his friends. In international news, more news on the war in Abyssinia. There was also an excerpt on a speech Hitler made to the Reichstag on the New Year. "Germany is moving foward and 1936 will be a year where Germany will retake her place on the world stage." one of the soundbytes were. Karl took most of the speech seriously. Unlike his parents, he was not a big Nazi, but he supported their policies as of late. He was just four years old when Germany signed the Armistice in 1918 and like any native German, his heart swelled up when he heard of Germany's rearmament under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party. While he disagreed with some of the party doctrine, he couldn't very well argue about their progress.
"Dinner!" his mother called from the kitchen. The dish of beefs tongue with cloves made Karl's mouth water. The family tried beef tongue for the first time when the Depression hitted hard and found out they liked it. After a prayer, the Dietlers dug into their supper.
After the tongue and beer was finished up, Karl patted his belly "Mother, if you feed me like this, you and father are probably going to have to roll me to work."
"Oh nonsense Karl, no matter how much I cook, you still stay skinny." His weight being 158 lbs and standing at 6'3", he did look like a tall giant like Abe Lincoln was in his day.
Whiping his mouth with the napkin, Karl looked up at his parents. "So, whats the news all about father? You usually don't wait this long to tell me stuff." Instead of answering, Ulrich shifted his eyes to his wife. Her smile fading, she nodded to him and Ulrich cleared his throat.
"Well son...to get to the point...me and your mother are thinking on returning to Germany this spring and living there again." Ulrich waited for his sons reaction.
Whatever Karl expected, this wasn't it. His family have been U.S. residents since 1919 after World War One and citizens in 1931. Through most of his life, he only knew about the United States and nothing about his homeland. His thought American and spoke English most of the time, only German for his parents. However, his parents still thought themselves as Germans and Germans only.
Before Karl could ask why, his father held up a hand. "I know what you're going to ask. We're moving back because me and your mother are confident that Germany is strong again and we wish to go back to Essen again. We already made up our minds on the matter. Karl, Hitler brought back the respect we had before those traitors in Weimar took it away from us! I want to go back to a happy Germany, the Germany I knew in my youth." It was too much for Karl to take in. He stuttered before he blurted out something.
"B-but....w-where would I live father?!" he sounded panic.
"Oh my boy, it's no problem. Your brother Albert was kind enough to send you enough money to buy a permament residence here in Detroit with the furniture and all included. We understand you'd rather live in here than come with us." His father gave a kind smile, understanding his sons shock. He gotten the same reaction from Albert when they left Germany.
Karl Dietler just sat there, in shock over what his parents told him. Well...well....I guess it's not a normal day in Detroit afterall....






 
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unmerged(46967)

American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
0
Welcome to my new attempt at an AAR. Hopefully this one won't due out. One of the few times I've done a narrative AAR and as the US, so if you like this kind of stuff, here you are :)

I'll post pictures from gameplay from time to time, but this will mainly be narrative driven.
 

unmerged(46967)

American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
0
TheHyphenated1- Thanks mate :)

Teep- Thanks, I usually try to avoid narratives; usually more of the history book sort of type.
 

unmerged(46967)

American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
0
300px-Uss_lexington_cv2.jpg



USS Lexington
January 20, 1936



Just miles and miles of blue ocean. Coming from a farm in Iowa, it did shock him how much water the world actually held. He never actually went into the water yet, even though it was warm; for what reason he had no idea himself. All he knew that he enjoyed the constant sunshine and blue surface.
Most of that went through Petty Officer Third Class Richard "Dick" Yates' mind. Flying his Grumman F2F fighter, he was returning from a standard flight patrol. They weren't at war status, but the flight officer thought it was a good idea for the airmen to get hours on their planes so they sent them on air patrols. Some of the men grumbled that it was a waste of time, but Richard didn't mind at all, he loved flying.
He checked most of his instruments. The fuel guage was almost at zero, but everything else was normal. Richard was orbiting around the Lady Lex, waiting for his turn to land his fighter on the flight deck. So to keep him from getting bored, Richard just simply watched the other guys, mostly new fish, land their planes. From his vantage point, he could see some near misses or FUs, F*** Ups the crew would call them. One newbie flyer had his plane land at a weird angle and the tail went straight up in the air for awhile before slamming back down on the deck. He cursed under his breath, wondering if some newbie would crash instead of doing a FU. Fortunately, when it was time for him to climb down to the deck, no crashes happended. Being a 4 year veteran, Richard knew what he was doing. Slightly handling the stick and keeping his Grumman leveled, the tail hook caught the wire and no accident happended.
Smooth like butter he thought as he took a deep breath and took off his pilots goggles. He got out of the cockpit and let the deck hands wheel the plane back onto the elevator and into the bay. For him, he just shook other pilots hands.
"That was well done petty officer." called one of the newbie pilots. His name was....David! Richard remembered, having trouble remembering newbie names. They weren't exactly considered part of the team till they hanged around the group for a long while.
He just simply shrugged and replied, "Having flying experience helps." Richards went into the bowels of the ship where he could shed off most of his flying gear. It was nice feeling to shed off his gear. In late January, the tempreture wasn't quite hot and unbearable, even in the waters near San Diego, so there was a cool breeze running through the ship. After he was done, one of the more experienced pilots slapped him on the back.
"Nice to see you back Dick." That was Lieutenant Clark, the commander of his particular fighter wing. A tough SOB from Indiana, he could chew someone, spit him out, and still have his teeth white as snow while laughing about it.
He shook the Lieutenant's hand. "Thank you sir. Seeing some of the newbies, I really thought that we would have a fire or a man overboard."
"Bah, we'll break them, just like we broke you not too long ago."
"Although I did have some flying experiene with crop dusters sir."
Lieutenant Clark shook his head. "Theres a big difference between those flying boxes and Navy fighters. Don't have much speed to worry about in the former while in these you have to." As well as being the wing's commander, he was somewhat of a tech junkie on aircraft and their performance. There was even rumours that he was getting secret mail from Grumman and Curtiss about the development of new planes and that he was some secret representative from them to get first-hand looks on the faults of their models. Another load of crap in a ship swimming with them, Richard said inside his head. He read the Lieutenants mail before and nothing in there suggested that he was what the rumours said and if he was, they were doing a good job on hiding it. But like giggling house wifes, the rumours flew around the crew still. Nothing he could really do about it.
"I suppose so sir, but some of these newbies, they never flown a plane in their whole life."
The lieutenant grunted in response, but then added, "Again, we'll break them. I'm just glad we're doing this now than during wartime where any breaking we have to do could result in some poor sucker dying."
Richard couldn't help, but nod. "Amen to that sir. Can't exactly have someone who doesn't know what he's doing flying against the Japs."
Lieutenant Clark laughed about that. "You know Dick, I'm damned glad I'm not the only crazy son of a bitch on the ship."
"What do you mean sir?"
"I mean that you and I can see beyond our own noses. How the Japanese have been acting lately these past few years, I can already smell a war sometime in the future. But these idiots think that everything is going to be lovey-dovey forever. My god! When the Japs start flying over Singapore, Manilia, Guam, and Pearl Harbor, theres going to be hell to pay for not being prepared." He just shook his head in disbelief. Lieutenant Clark has been one of the ones that have been talking about Japanese aggression, but most wouldn't listen to a word about it. Respect him for his expeirence and technical expertise they did, but for his foreign policy? Not a damn bit.
Richard tried to look at the bright side. "Hopefully that won't come to that sir. FDR seemes to know what he is doing."
His flight commander just snorted "Hell, so do I Dick, but I highly doubt it. I really do." He walked off without another word. Richard did really believe the Lieutenant. He still remembered the news of Japanese attack into Manchuria a few years before and that was when a siren sounded off in his head. If none of his surperiors could see it, were they really asking for some teeth to be knocked out? I just hope so he simply thought, but like the lieutenant, he was very doubtful.
Trying to erase the thoughts out of his head, Richard went down to the mess hall for food and coffee. For once, the cooks were cooking something that tickled his nose in delight. Apparently they were cooking some fish some sailors caught not too long ago and the black cook, Jamal Carlson, seriously knew what he was doing with fish; being from New Orleans, he surely did. With a word of thanks to Carlson, he sat at a table and munched at his meal. Some other petty officers were chatting near him.
"You should've seen this broad back at San Diego. Fair as snow and her figure, hot damn!"
"Oh hell Hank, with your face, not like you're going to get a piece."
"Ha, shows what you know. I came up to her and soon we were hitting off. Gave me her address and telephone number." More talk on women it seems. Richard being at the age of 27, he knew he was still quite young, but was somewhat lonely. Yeah he visited some of the wild establishments near San Diego, but it wasn't exactly the same. His last relationship with a girl he knew back at home was gone when she died in a car wreck before he graduated from basic training. He seriously almost hung himself after he found out, but fortunately was able to continue on. Such is life.
He continuied chowing down on the fish when the intercom came on. "This is the captain speaking. Not too long ago, King George V, King of Great Britain, died from natural causes. His son Edward will take over. The President and Secretary of State send their condolences to the Royal Family. That is all." The intercom went off.
There was a silence in the mess hall. Although King George V was not their king, they still respected the hell out of him. He was the face of Great Britain and with him dead, there was hardly a figure head left.
One commander, who had decorations from the Great War on his chest, soon broke the silence. "Damnation, he was British, but damn me to hell was he not a fighting Brit. Probably the only British monarch that I actually respected." Some other folks, some who fought in the last war and some who didn't, nodded at the commander's comment. Richard looked down at his still steaming mug of coffee. His father, who also fought in the trenches, liked King George V and had his picture hung on the wall at the farm with an autograph from the King himself when he visited his father's section of the front. All he could really think of is, The whole world is just going nuts.
 

Kurt_Steiner

Katalaanse Burger en Terroriste
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Feb 12, 2005
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Nice AAR you have going here! Keep it up. I have a feeling Karl will be representing the European theatre and Dick the Pacific one.

And Karl will end fighting his brother, dunno why...
 

unmerged(46967)

American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
0
Ksim, Kurt_Steiner- Perhaps, just have to wait and see ;)


800px-OEOB_Penn_Avenue.jpg


State, War, and Navy Building in Washington D.C.
Feburary 8th, 1936


With most of the snow gone, Washington descended back into it's normal state of green and calm. Tourists were experiencing the wonders of the nation's capital, politicians were bargaining with their colleagues, and military men reporting to their posts. Cars were driving by and the wildlife were chirping. The local folk usually took most of this for granted. Having lived with the noise and sights for most of their lifes, they simply ignored all the rage and continuied with their work days.
Which was what Major Price was doing in his semi-office in the Old Executive Building. Smoking a cigar in one corner of his mouth, he kept typing up a report to Malin Craig, Chief of Staff to the U.S. Army.



To: General Craig, Malin. Chief of Staff
From: Major Price, Edward. S-3 Operations Officer
Subject: Research Developments

Sir, for the past several weeks, the programs the Secretary of War have ordered are going at full pace. Despite some protests from Republicans in Congress, it is giving the Army funding to conduct these projects. Three major ones that started on January 1st are in various stages and I shall explain each one of them.
John C. Garand and his team at the Springfield Armory are almost at half completion. The M1 semi-automatic rifle is ready for mass production and issue to the troops to replace their current M1903 Springfield rifles. Major General Marshall of the 1st Infantry Division, Major General Stilwell of the 2nd Infantry Division, and Lieutenant Colonel Patton of Ft. Myers have all test fired the weapon stated and give their support for it's implementation. The new 60mm mortar model also show promise and the liscense from Edgar Brandt allows to domestically produce it in great numbers.
The Field Artillery team at Marmon-Harrington are also showing promise with the M116 Howitzer and hopefully by the end of this year we'll replace the older French 75mm guns.
Lastly the team at Christie are going at full force. The Army currently has no armored force to speak of, having been disbanded after the Great War and the only design we currently have is the old French FT17 model, which is inferior to most current tank designs around the world. The team at Christie is working on a model they call the T2E2 Combat Car. From what they are reporting to our office, the projected specifications range from a speed of 44mph and armed with a M2HB machinegun and M1919A2 machinegun. This will provide a future Armored Corps a base to build on.
I am fully confident that these projects will prove beneficiary for the Army. I also suggest in the future we look towards the development of anti-tank weaponry and continue development of the tank.

02/08/36



After rolling out the paper and dumping ash into the ashtray, Price did the usual stampings and folded the paper into a letter. He then called out to his orderly. "Ferrel! Come in here please." The young faced orderly from Rhode Island entered the office and came at attention in front of the Major, saluting him in the process. Price extended his arm, paper in hand, to the young man. "Send this to General Craig's office with my compliments."
"Yes sir." Another salute and the orderly was gone.
Price just laid back in his chair and smoked his Cuban made stoogie. Hardly get any peace and quiet around here, have to grab every oppourtunity with both hands. That was indeed true, the Building was at it's max capacity with the Departments of War, State, and Navy congregating in this building. Everyone had to squeeze for space and hardly anyone got offices. He was one of the lucky ones. Being the Operations Officer allowed him a private space of his one where he could write, type, and talk without some wondering eyes looking over his shoulder. It was far from the trenches of World War One, a fresh-faced Lieutenant in the 3rd Infantry on the Marne River, commanding his platoon to shoot down as many Germans as they could. What did he get in return? A nice prime chunk of meat blown off his right leg just a week before the surrender. Jesus, what bad timing I had.
He rubbed his short blonde hair and looked at himself in the mirror to his right. Even with the odd shape of right leg, his ice blue eyes and tall built still labeled him as handsome. At the age of 44, he was lucky that he was not going grey yet and his wife, Flora, still loved him. Hopefully the two kids weren't making alot of trouble at the elementary school. Price grinned while finishing his cigar, Fat chance.
He checked the clock hanging just across from him. "Damn, noon already?" he commented. It was Lunch time and he knew a good place to go for lunch. Getting out of his chair, he letted another person know where he was going and exited the building. Despite the absence of snow, there was still a cold breeze flowing from the north, making Price wish he had something to cover his body other than his uniform jacket. Breath smoking like he was still smoking his cigar, he entered Antonios, an Italian restraunt that opended up recently and to his delight, was warm inside.
Some other person in uniform was waving to Price. "Hey Eddie, over here!" It was his colleague, Major Dan Semmers, adjutant to Major General Marshall. They gone way back when Price started to work at the War Department.
"Alright Dan, keep your pants on." He chuckled as he joined his colleague. When the waitress arrived, he ordered some wine and rigatoni. Sipping from his wine glass and after the usual greetings, Price looked up at Semmers. "So what brings you into these neck of the woods Dan?"
With a grin, Semmers replied "Looking for women and good times my friend." Price snorted, knowing that Semmers was always a wild one. But out of his joking humour, Semmers continuied, "But seriously, just here because Marshall is at some conference here in Washington and we are in the middle of lunch breaks, so I have to get back in an hour or so."
"What a pity"
Semmers shrugged "What can you do? Plus they're not mainly talking bull. Some talk about some new training methods the Army will implement in the future and how the new rifle transition will work out."
Price grunted. "Just had an update about that not too long ago. The project seems to be coming along. Whether we'll see them in mass or not is another thing. I sometimes wish MacArthur was back as Chief of Staff. Craig is alright, but not that great you know?"
His friend nodded "I know what you mean. With him in the Phillippines now, I guess we won't be seeing him again. A shame, but again...what can you do?"
"Nothing at all"
"Exactly my friend." After a sip of his red wine, Semmers changed subjects. "Did you hear about what the Navy is getting now?"
Price's face looked a little blank before he snapped his fingers. "Oh those new Yorktown class Carriers? I heard of them from some friend of mine in the Navy. Supposed to be three of them."
Semmers nodded, both of them are on the same page. "Yeah those things. I got to tell you Eddie, how the hell are we going to survive if someone knocks at our door? The Navy is great and necessary, but once you start going onto land, what good are a bunch of big guns and torpedos? The Marines are too small, so we have to come in. But right now, what do we have?" It was a rhetorical question, but he let a dramatic pause run before he answered.
Taking a deep breath, Price answered his friend. "I'm in full agreement Dan, but when the Congress gives you very little, of course you're not going to have everything you need."
Semmers rolled his eyes at the thought "Oh, but they allow the goddamn Navy to have the latest. Those isolationist pigs up there in Congress are a bunch of boobs, nothing but. We got Mussolini raising a ruckus in Europe, Hitler doing the same crap, and to our west, we got Hirohito's boys just licking their lips with anticipation. But what do these folks say? 'It's not our problem, we got nothing to do with them.' They think the Pacific and Atlantic are the walls of Troy or something. But when one of these folks sends over a Trojan Horse, we're going to get our ass kicked with our thumbs stuck up in them." He just shook his hand and gobbled the rest of his wine.
He had a good point. With the Army reduced around four divisions and the even smaller Army Air Corps added in, it could hardly do anything but press back a riot or go to war with Mexico. Some have wanted a major expansion of the Army, but at the current moment FDR wanted nothing to do with it.
Major Semmers checked his watch and raised his eyebrows. "Well I better get going Eddie." He laid out the check while Price paid out a generous tip. Both men shook hands and said goodbyes.
Through the rest of the way back to his office, Price thought about the state of the American Army. Back in 1917, it was prepared and growing strong, but now after the Depression, it was a shadow of its former self. Other countries were modernizing and expanding their own standing armies, but why wasn't his country doing the same thing? When he sat back down in his office chair, Price already knew the answer. Misguided optimism and fear. He shook his head and lighted another cigar.

 
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Kurt_Steiner

Katalaanse Burger en Terroriste
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Feb 12, 2005
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800px-M1_Combat_Car.jpg


Well, if that's better than the FT-17... USA needs tanks, indeed!!!!
 

trekaddict

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*picture*

Well, if that's better than the FT-17... USA needs tanks, indeed!!!!

Hell, a man with a pointy stick would be better than that.
 

unmerged(46967)

American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
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Apparently there was a paper I had to do for tomorrow, so most of my time was taken up by that. :( Sorry all, I promise I'll get an update in soon.
 

TheHyphenated1

Weltkriegschaftler
Mar 1, 2008
1.151
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Take your time. Glad to see the US finally trying to creep out of the dark ages technologically. It took OTL WW2 and Korea before we finally learned that whole "peacetime preparedness" lesson...
 

unmerged(46967)

American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
0
thmb_detroit009.jpg




Detroit, Michigan
March 3rd, 1936


Keeping his hands in his khaki trenchcoat, Karl Dietler enjoyed the brisk walk along the sidewalks of Detroit. Black fedora on his head and cigarette at the corner of his lip, he hummed while on his way to a little diner. It was still chilly, but not at the ferocity that it was months ago. People were outside alot more and tended to not wear in layers like they were during early and mid-January. Even the birds were coming back again.
Finding the place, he purchased a newspaper and sat down at an outside table in the shade. Getting a good look at the front page, there was nothing that interested him. Mostly talk about the recently completed Hoover Dam and some left over coverage about the coup attempt in Japan a week ago. Nice bits of news, but nothing really important. The Japanese might aswell be on the moon for all I cared and the Hoover Dam didn't matter to Detroit. Flipping to other stories, there was talk about the new planes the Army Air Corps recieved. The B-23 Dragons were replacing some of the older B-18 Bolos, the article read, which will allow the Corps to continue a great American tradition. A great tradition indeed... he commented mentally when he read a biased editoral blasting the Army for spending money on bombers when they should be spending money at home. "War will not be coming to the United States. Why should we waste our money on such nonsense!" one quote in the editoral said. That gave Karl a good chuckle, people really believe the oceans are the greatest barriers.
"Can I get you something sir?" Karl looked up to see a blonde waitress in a uniform, with a little scratchpad to write down orders.
"Yes, a Coca-Cola in a glass and tomato soup."
"Coming right along." The waitress disappeared into the diner and a few minutes later, his cola and soup appeared in front of him. Karl sipped the red-orange liquid and nodded; just how he liked it. Only this diner gets it right. Others usually either have no salt in them or too much of it, but this particular establishment made a tasty compromise. The soup passing the test, he laid the newspaper next to him and began sipping. Karl was focused enough to where he didn't notice another man sitting down with him at the table.
"Should really add some pepper in it, adds a taste that makes it golden." Like the waitress, Karl looked up, but instead of a blonde with a nice figure, it was his friend Tony Jenkins.
Karl chuckled at his friends comment. "You always say 'add pepper' to everything you eat."
"But serious this time, you should try it".
"I'll remember when I order next time." Karl sipped some of his cola and left a fizzy mustache on his lips. While he did drink beer in private, he still had the Prohibition habit of presenting a respectable public image and so he ordered Colas and juices instead of beers in public. Plus he liked the taste of Coca-Cola.
Tony waved his hand towards the newspaper. "Anything interesting in the news today?"
Passing the folded paper to him, Karl shook his head "Nothing that blows my mind. Just stuff on the Dam and more stuff on that Jap coup. Just stuff that seems like the other side of the moon to me."
Tony chuckled "Yeah I hear ya. Do your few minute wonders and then throw the paper in the trash." Tony flipped through the pages as Karl finished his cola. He grunted when he stopped at one page. "The Army getting new bombers eh?"
"Yeah so it says. Those Bolos looked too fat and bulky to me, a flying box compared to this new craft they got flying around."
But Tony went on like Karl never spoke. "But why spend that money? We got two oceans keeping us safe from most of this damn stuff and we still got stuff to do right here at home. War isn't going to come to our shores, I'm telling you. Why do we need more money in defense?"
Karl raised a hand for silence. "You tend to forget in history that bodies of water didn't protect nations from outright invasion."
Tony shook his head. "So what? That was ages ago, not 1936 for the love of god! The Atlantic and especially the Pacific are not like the Aegean Sea and Mediterrenean. They're small watering holes compared to those two oceans."
"Didn't really stop the Kaiser from sinking our ships during the last engagment nor did it stop them from trying to push Mexico onto their side."
"Nonsense Karl. That was the Germany of 1916. They are not a major power anymore, despite what Adolf does over there, they're small beans compared to France, Britain, and the Commies. Even if conflict arises over there, more than likely the Nazis will be wanting to settle old scores with France and Britain, not deal with us! And the Japanese? Hell you seen the article, they're having shit of their own to deal with than worry about us and besides, they're looking at China than anything else."
And we're the ones that are hampering them from expanding more into the Pacific. Karl and Tony had this arguement every time the topic presented itself. Karl sees the reason for more military and Tony is another isolationist. He just doesn't realize why people think the oceans are going to protect them any better than they did in the Great War, but unfortunately they do. He's convinced that Japan is not in chaos like his friend Tony thinks it is. The Japanese are too organized and conservative for a major revolution to spring out. He mentally shrugged. Time will only tell if either of us are right.
Tony made a questioning noise. "By the way Karl, are you still planning on getting a gift for Wendy?"
"Oh hell! I forgot all about that!". Karl tried to not forget that it was his girlfriend's birthday on March 3rd. He knew that she told him and he promised to remember, but damned if he did not remember till Tony told him. In a speed of panic, Karl got out of the chair. "I'm going to go to the bank to get money and get her a gift!". Without waiting for a response, Karl exited the area, his laughing friend behind him.
Fortunately his bank was only 2 blocks away from the diner. Bartletts & Turner Bank recovered from the Depression in 1934 and Karl has been using that bank ever since. He was just lucky that his parents knew how to manage money. Sighing in relief that there wasn't a long line, he entered the bank. There were lines, but only of three to four people. Being patient, he entered line and waited. What could he get her? Some roses might be nice, or a new dress they were selling at the store. Wendy always loved wearing dresses, even though he preferred seeing little to nothing on all of her. Karl chuckled, anticipating the events later.
That was when the shotgun went off behind him and the shout "Get on the floor! Don't do anything stupid or we'll blast ya!" Karl glanced and saw four men with firearms, all dressed in suits and fedoras. The Purple Gang? he pondered. The gang declined after Prohibition was repealed, but he knew certain elements of the group were still present in Detroit. He just never realized that he could be thrown into their crime spree till now.
One of the burly men came up to one of the tellers and pointed his Tommy gun right at the teller's gut. "Alright bub, show us where the do' is at or we can all take a look what you had for breakfast." Trembling, the the teller went into the back with two of the gangsters in tow. The other two, including the one with the shotgun, guarded the people out front.
Damnit Karl, think!. He could always wait for the police to come, but from the look of the faces of the hitmen, they were armed to the teeth to deal with the Detroit Police Department. Then he remembered the weight in his coat pocket, a 9mm Luger pistol, a gift from his father at graduation. Karl always kept it on his person for protection purposes and it seemed this might be the time to use it.
"Hey! Hold it!" One of the gangsters yelled at a fleeing bank teller and they mowed him down with more tommy fire. Checking his safety, Karl's hand gripped the Luger's handle. Alright you sons of bitches. Lets see if you're really tough shit. He drew out the Luger, aimed, and fired.


 

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American Fascist
Jul 31, 2005
572
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Teep: I was debating really if I wanted it to come up, but decided on a cliffhanger so wanted the reader to be reminded of the gangsters of Detroit. ;)

Hyphenated: Even though the Robbers did kill one bank teller.