since i'm an italian i must say that this mussolini is quite the same Fascist we had as Leader : a Barking Buffon 
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Chapter 177:
Operation Michael, Part 1
Operation Michael, Part 1
Foreign Intelligence Headquarters
Paris
H-Hour -5
David Favre, Director of the Commune’s Russian Intelligence division and perhaps Russia’s most important double agent abroad stormed into the meeting with a minimum of ceremony and a projection of confidence wedded to fatigue.
Before him, the portly Leon Jaures, head of the German and Eastern European division paused mid-sentence, his corpulent form hunched over a map of Poland affixed with flags and pins. “David, I’m in the middle of giving a briefing on my planned Polish uprising, I’m going to need to ask you to leave.”
Favre completely ignored his fellow director, instead turning to address the other figure around the map table. Comrade Henri Villeneuve, personal Secretary to the Chairman of the Commune of France was the face and voice of the Chairman when it came to intelligence matters, and he was not nearly as quick to judge as Jaures. “I’ll need you to explain the interruption Comrade Director, this briefing is of utmost importance to determine our plans after we finally secure a German surrender.”
“You must pardon my interruption Comrade Secretary” said Favre with every ounce of humility he could muster “however I have an urgent matter to bring to your attention.”
Villeneuve raised an eyebrow “what matter?”
“You’ll recall, comrade Secretary, that more than two weeks ago I brought a number of Russian intercepts to your attention. You’ll recall I requested the decoding assets necessary to analyse them, but that those assets had been transferred to the German office to support military intelligence operations.”
Jaures jumped on the opening“Really David? You interrupt a vital military briefing to complain to the Secretary about the fact that your assets have been temporarily assigned to support our fighting men in their liberation of the German Proletariat? Can you not that such a task must trump your instincts about a few coded intercepts?” Jaures smile was one of the least pleasant things Favre had ever seen, but it, and his political connections had carried him to the heady heights of the foreign intelligence apparatus.
It was so satisfying to know that was about to change.
“They’re not coded anymore.” Favre took a moment to savour Jaures’ face before he set his folder of translated diplomatic and personal correspondence down on the table, obscuring the suddenly obsolete map. “Many of my people in the Russia unit have some codebreaking experience and enough of us speak Russian that we were able to work from what had already been done.”
Jaures’ caught Villeneuve nodding at Favre’s achievement and so immediately interjected. “Comrade, we’ve all had very specific tasks assigned to us by the Comrade Secretary, I’d hate to think what vital work has been left undone as you assigned assets to this pointless and unsanctioned endeavour.”
Favre tried to supress the beaming smile he wanted to break out in response to that fat idiot’s predictable attempt to maintain political favour. “We didn’t miss a single hour of our allocated tasks comrade. This represents two weeks of missed meal breaks, a short naps beneath our desks in place of sleep. We felt such work was vital for the cause.”
Favre didn’t push further to point out that Jaures’ insatiable appetite for more assets was in part a response to his own inefficiency and determination to do as little work himself as possible. If he did, there was always the chance the Party would look seriously at removing him, despite his political affiliation, and having an idiot in charge of the German unit suited Russia just fine for now. For his part, Jaures seemed about to respond when Villeneuve extended his slender fingers to grasp the offered documents. “A summary of your findings, Comrade Favre?”
Favre hesitated, shifting with the light to emphasise the fatigue in his features and mimic a fear of being wrong. “I apologise this comes as late as it does Comrade, as I said, we have not had access to..”
“Your findings Comrade.”
“Based on a number of diplomatic, military and personal intercepts, we can conclude that the Russians have decided not to engage us unless they are attacked first. Instead, I believe they intend to commence military operations against Germany, sometime within the next twenty four hours. Every asset we have exposed in Poland is about to be caught up in the sweep.”
“Mere speculation!” exclaimed Jaures as his mind grasped the potential consequences for his overt revolution mongering in Poland.
“It seems” mused Villeneuve, taking the new information in his stride and flipping through Favre’s materials “that it is in fact quite conclusive. Do you have any idea on their axis of advance or final objectives?”
Favre shook his head “That’s military information that we’re going to struggle to obtain without the use of more local assets. I would guess that we’re looking at Warsaw as an initial objective, so the Russians can disassemble any rival Governments or organisations. Hence why I suggest ordering every asset we have there to go to ground immediately. If they’re still fighting on the streets when the Russians role in, we’re going to lose two decades worth of preparation and contact building. It may already be too late.”
“I am” declared Favrve “I’d stake my life on it Comrade Secretary.”
“Oh you already have, Comrade Director.” Villeneuve’s delivery had some its usual brightness and charm but Favre didn’t doubt for a second that his statement was a serious one. He’d just upended the Commune’s intelligence picture based on an unauthorised personal project. That meant glory and promotion if he was right, and a trial for treason if not.
“I understand Comrade Secretary.”
Villeneuve folded up his piece of paper and stood, turning to the now silent Director of Intelligence in Germany. “Comrade Jaures, It’s clear the Russian office has a far better appreciation of this new development than your unit. I want you to transfer control of the Polish and Baltic divisions to the Russian office effective immediately so that we can salvage what we can from this situation. I need to brief the Chairman on this matter.” The Secretary stood, tucking his materials into his leather case. “Favre I want a list of everything else you need in order to manage this development as best you can. Get it to me by secure courier and I’ll have the Chairman’s signature on the necessary orders by the end of the evening.”
“Comrade Secretary…” began Jaures.
“We don’t really have the time to discuss this Comrade. Under different circumstances I would advise you to dwell on why we have only a day’s warning of this rather than the two weeks we might have had, but that would distract you from that work that needs to be done.” Again, Villeneuve’s words were lightly delivered but layered with every kind of implied threat. Favre loved it. As the Secretary walked towards the exit of the room, he placed a hand on Favre’s shoulder “well done again, to you and your team Comrade Director. Save what you can, and hope these findings of yours are accurate.”
Favre beamed internally. He certainly would save what he could, at the very least he’d save tens of thousands of hours in Russian police and intelligence time spent rooting out red operatives in Poland and Germany. “I am extremely confident Comrade Secretary.”
“As am I” smiled Villeneuve, “which is why I’m about to wake the Chairman to brief him, and I do not particularly wish to be labelled a fool.”
David Favre turned to watch the Secretary leave the room, content with the knowledge a dejected Jaures was probably pre-occupied behind him was probably quietly plotting all the ways to send Favre to the gallows if the information turned out to be wrong. He looked down at his watch, taking note of the time and felt a wave of relaxation watch over him.
By now it would already have started. It would be too little prior-warning to salvage anything of the Commune’s situation in the East, but just enough prior warning that Favre was likely about to secure permanent control of the Polish office.
An auspicious start to Michael, if he did say so himself.
Okęcie Airport, Warsaw:
H-Hour -1
Okęcie Airport, before the outbreak of the second Weltkrieg
A lone watch officer rubbed his hands together in the cold void of the control tower. The Mercury had dropped with the sun and with the severe rationing now in place for all German forces in Poland, there had been no question of running the heating during the night, not when it would all inevitably vanish into the night through the myriad cracks in the windows at least. He sipped some soup from a thermos, though it too was cold by now after a long night shift….and dawn was still at least an hour away.
He sat back on his basic metal frame chair and pulled his woollen cap down as far over its ears as it would go, hoping to deaden the sound of distant gun shots. The reds in Warsaw were still regularly trading fire with what was left of the city’s police and the few small German security units that hadn’t already been flown out to bolster the front in the West. It was a depressing state of affairs. When he had first been assigned to Warsaw for ATC duties, their main task had been to bring in German troops to keep Poland settled while the war was won in France….these last few weeks he’d instead watched troops and families return to Germany, along with whatever they could carry, while the news from the West grew ever worse.
A glimpse of light from the corner of his eye broke his reverie. He stood and paced out, clicking open his binoculars case in the process. Even through the imperfections in the glass, he could clearly see a line of stabbing white lights out on the airport grounds, emanating from a small convoy of trucks that was snaking its way parallel to the runway. A moment later his suspicions were confirmed as the runway guidance lights themselves lit up, revealing a hive of human activity below him.
He reached turned to reach for the telephone, he needed to enquire about who down there was lighting the place up like a Christmas tree when there were no flights due for days.
The firm crack of a pistol butt against the back of his skull ended those thoughts and dissolved the world to black.
“Clear” called the pistol wielder and the rest of the Polish squad emerged from the sheltered concrete staircase and went to work.
“I want the radio live and ready on the frequency they gave us, and confirm beam guidance is online, I don’t trust the Russians to be able to do a night landing without it.”
The Poles took their stations in response, one of the security teams dragging the fallen German from his post at the radio operators inspected the equipment and consulted their notes. A few checked their watches. An hour, it was going to be an hour until everything changed.
Berlin:
H-Hour – 30 minutes
The Russian ambassador sat in the lavish surroundings of the German Foreign office with his hands clasped and sweating. He withdrew his pocket watch again and felt his sweat glands fire yet again in response. He was already half an hour overdue for his audience and there was no way to contact Petersburg if things didn’t go to schedule.
A whispered prayer and careful breathing brought his heart back under control. Nothing was under his control, everything was in the hands of the almighty now. All he needed to do was play his part.
As if approving of his revelation, at last the grand doors of the waiting room were pushed open by a clerk who seemed rather unhappy to be called to duty for an emergency meeting pre-dawn. “Mr Ambassador, the Chancellor will see you now.”
The Chancellor, he thought, well that would explain the delay. Well, It was expected the Germans would likely figure that something important must come from an emergency session at such unsociable hours.
Russia’s ambassador stood, nodded to his attendant and followed their lead. With thirty minutes to spare his job was almost done.
In many ways, he thought as he walked, this would be among the easiest diplomatic missions of his life. There was no need to negotiate, prevaricate or conceal ones intentions.
For once, he was to be a mere mouthpiece for a pronouncement made by the Emperor himself with relation to Germany.
A pronouncement that would shake the Germans, and the world, to its core.
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It's high time the Imperials save as much as possible from the disaster that was the beginning of der zweite Weltkrieg.
Chapter 178:
Operation Michael, Part 2.
Operation Michael, Part 2.
Okęcie Airport, Warsaw:
H Hour -4 Minutes
Semenovski shuffled forward through the ice cold interior of the transport plane, the bulk of his parachute making the manoeuvre difficult for the Guards officer.
The cockpit was so dark that his pilot and co-pilot were little more than black spectres, the headsets and winter flight suits disrupting the human shape that his brain was instinctively scanning for. Semenovski scanned the void to his left with his hands, making what use he could of the pitiful instrumentation lights and the guide lights lit behind him in the cabin. His fingers closed around the rubberised interior of the spare intercom headset and he put it on. Suddenly, the drone of engines was joined by the artificial crackle of human voices.
“Status report?” he enquired
“Stand by Polkovnik” replied one of the two shapes, he had no idea which with their faces locked forward and scanning the blackness of the horizon. Their hands danced over the mildly lit instrument panel, the intercom clicked to life again. “Affirmative, we have radio contact with tower and landing guidance is active. If you'd rather not jump, we can touch down.”
Semenovski’s relief was palpable. Contact with the airport meant two things. One, they would be landing, not jumping, which meant the whole unit and their support weapons would be able to land together and organised rather than dispersed. Secondly, it meant the Poles were doing exactly what they promised, something which boded damn well for the rest of this mission.
“Let’s hope the other units have as much luck at their targets. Take us down.” Before he could turn back into the cabin to instruct his men to remove their parachutes, he felt the dip of the aircraft’s nose and caught the tell-tale sight of bright runway lights beckoning them from a distance.
The touchdown itself came four minutes later and was smooth as one could ask given the circumstances. The Guardsmen threw open the side doors of the transport and stormed in good order. The first fire-teams through the doors set a close perimeter, the next group moved further forward and scanned for a building or sheltered location to set up company, and then hopefully divisional level command. All moved quickly as the aircraft taxied to make way for the next one, coming in immediately behind it.
Semenovski’s Guardsmen trained their weapons on the first silhouettes that approached, brightly illuminated by the runway landing lights. Fingers rested on triggers for a moment until the sight of a Russian Uniform and a successful code-word challenge disarmed tensions.
Semenovski let his weapon fall down to rest by its strap and rose from his firing position to meet the new arrivals. One wore civilian garb with a white and red band tied around his arm. The other was in Russian uniform, and matched the description he’d been given of their liaison officer.
“Captain Rómmel I presume?”
The Captain threw up a salute as he came fully into view. “Yes sir, and this is Commander Novak, Polish allied forces. We’ve arranged for trucks to get you into the city prior to daybreak, and Commander Novak has selected translators and guides for each of your units at the company level and above.”
“We were heavily briefed on Warsaw’s layout Captain.”
“Of course sir, but I imagine headquarters wants us to actively cooperate with the local forces, and I’m certain your men could use help with translation. I’m not sure how many Polish speakers you have in your ranks.”
Semenovski silently paid that one, he welcomed the help in that respect, and his paranoia simply demanded he question it. “Opposition in the city?”
H Hour -4 Minutes
Semenovski shuffled forward through the ice cold interior of the transport plane, the bulk of his parachute making the manoeuvre difficult for the Guards officer.
The cockpit was so dark that his pilot and co-pilot were little more than black spectres, the headsets and winter flight suits disrupting the human shape that his brain was instinctively scanning for. Semenovski scanned the void to his left with his hands, making what use he could of the pitiful instrumentation lights and the guide lights lit behind him in the cabin. His fingers closed around the rubberised interior of the spare intercom headset and he put it on. Suddenly, the drone of engines was joined by the artificial crackle of human voices.
“Status report?” he enquired
“Stand by Polkovnik” replied one of the two shapes, he had no idea which with their faces locked forward and scanning the blackness of the horizon. Their hands danced over the mildly lit instrument panel, the intercom clicked to life again. “Affirmative, we have radio contact with tower and landing guidance is active. If you'd rather not jump, we can touch down.”
Semenovski’s relief was palpable. Contact with the airport meant two things. One, they would be landing, not jumping, which meant the whole unit and their support weapons would be able to land together and organised rather than dispersed. Secondly, it meant the Poles were doing exactly what they promised, something which boded damn well for the rest of this mission.
“Let’s hope the other units have as much luck at their targets. Take us down.” Before he could turn back into the cabin to instruct his men to remove their parachutes, he felt the dip of the aircraft’s nose and caught the tell-tale sight of bright runway lights beckoning them from a distance.
The touchdown itself came four minutes later and was smooth as one could ask given the circumstances. The Guardsmen threw open the side doors of the transport and stormed in good order. The first fire-teams through the doors set a close perimeter, the next group moved further forward and scanned for a building or sheltered location to set up company, and then hopefully divisional level command. All moved quickly as the aircraft taxied to make way for the next one, coming in immediately behind it.
Semenovski’s Guardsmen trained their weapons on the first silhouettes that approached, brightly illuminated by the runway landing lights. Fingers rested on triggers for a moment until the sight of a Russian Uniform and a successful code-word challenge disarmed tensions.
Semenovski let his weapon fall down to rest by its strap and rose from his firing position to meet the new arrivals. One wore civilian garb with a white and red band tied around his arm. The other was in Russian uniform, and matched the description he’d been given of their liaison officer.
“Captain Rómmel I presume?”
The Captain threw up a salute as he came fully into view. “Yes sir, and this is Commander Novak, Polish allied forces. We’ve arranged for trucks to get you into the city prior to daybreak, and Commander Novak has selected translators and guides for each of your units at the company level and above.”
“We were heavily briefed on Warsaw’s layout Captain.”
“Of course sir, but I imagine headquarters wants us to actively cooperate with the local forces, and I’m certain your men could use help with translation. I’m not sure how many Polish speakers you have in your ranks.”
Semenovski silently paid that one, he welcomed the help in that respect, and his paranoia simply demanded he question it. “Opposition in the city?”
“And how would you assess the threat these street-fighters pose Captain?”
Rómmel reflexively dodged the question “I hardly have complete and reliable data on their weapons and training Polkovnik.”
Semenovski pressed “Based on what you do know Captain, best guess.”
“Best Guess Polkovnik?” Rómmel smiled through the brisk Warsaw morning “They won’t know what hit them.”
Semenovski turned back to see the second transport plane unloading the rest of his platoon, complete with machine guns and mortars now being broken out of their carry cases.
“Then I’ll need you to translate for me and Commander Novak here briefly. Warsaw is an Imperial city, and I’m sure the commander wants to see it cleared of reds just as surely as I do.”
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Taken from "'War, Tyranny and Liberation - 1920-1970" by Andrea Ivankovic
With the cooperation of local forces, the initial airborne component of Operation Michael went off without a hitch.
The paratroopers would be ferried to their target locations by truck under cover of darkness and commenced combat operations with the rising of the sun on the 10th.
When the sun rose on the morning of the 11th of February, Russian paratrooper units signalled that there was no further resistance being offered in Warsaw, Łódź or Włocławek. The paratroopers secured key government buildings, communications exchanges, railway stations, bridges and other critical locations.
The second goal was to ensure that critical transport infrastructure remained intact. The Russian war-plan relied heavily on the Polish railroad network which had been serving as a conduit for trade on an ever increasing scale since 1936. Any sabotage at the critical rail junctions or bridges would have slowed down an operation that was already a race against time.
The third reason was linked to the first. Syndicalist activity in Poland had been focused around the capital where the red forces were attempting to disrupt and overthrow the government in anticipation of the Commune overrunning Germany. On the morning of the 11th, alongside resupplies of food and ammunition, the first agents of the Okhrana would arrive in Warsaw. There, in cooperation with local Polish units they would begin the process of apprehending or eliminating major Syndicalist commanders and figures in the capital, breaking the back of the revolutionary leftist organisation that had spent a decade steadily building strength.
Their airborne forces having accomplished their goals, the rest of the Russian Imperial army lurched itself into action. The Infantry were given the task of completing the occupation of Poland, a task which they began slowly but without much in the way of local resistance. Apart from skirmishes at the few border posts which had not been stripped of their men, the Russian infantry expected opposition only from the snow and cold, not from Poles or Germans. The Russian war-plan gave the infantry units two weeks to reach their Polish objectives, a window that allowed for a relatively lethargic rate of advance.
The tank units would not be given the chance to work to quite so relaxed a schedule. It was a forgone conclusion that the moment Russia entered the war the Commune of France would likely intensify its efforts on the Western Front. If Germany was collapsing, it seemed reasonable that the reds would want to grab as much of it as possible before the Russians arrived. Markov responded by unleashing his three ready tank divisions straight through the heart of Poland and into Germany.
Opposition was encountered on the Scandinavian Front.
There, Russian troops had built up from the two divisions allowed by their treaty with Germany to a full Army of 9 infantry divisions in the weeks immediately following the intervention. Their mission was to strike South, hopefully making it to Kiel before the Communards. German forces defending Kiel’s Northern approach however had not been appraised of Russia’s good intentions, nor could they effectively communicate with Berlin given the ongoing disruptions. Refusing requests to surrender, they opted to stand and fight.
Unwilling to risk delay, the Russia’s 4th Army (Scandinavia) responded with maximum, coordinated force. Aware of the narrow front they would be expected to fight on, the army in Scandinavia had received a lion’s share of available artillery and air support. Over a thousand field artillery pieces and 800 aircraft hit German positions on the first day. German casualties were immense, on the order of 20%. The shock did the trick. The German troops began to fall back and the Russian advance in Scandinavia recommenced for the loss of 22 airmen and 82 army personnel.
The first four days of shock had been good to the Russian army and it was on track to achieve most of its objectives on or ahead of schedule. Now however Germany would be forced to respond, and the Commune desperately accelerated its own efforts, placing its eyes square on the German capital of Berlin.
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I wonder what you have planned for Germany after. I guess that if the Czar abides by his word, he has to release a puppet Kingdom of Poland but Germany will depend on the Kaiser I guess. Should he leave and decide to join the Entente from Afrika then you are in a tight spot, fighting the Entente instead of the Syndies. Should he bow though, will you keep the hohenzollern or impose a Romanov (if I remember it is Grand Duke Boris that can become Emperor of Germany and then they got an awesome flag )
)
First off, great update!
Second, what brought the UBD under your control? I don't recall reading about it.
Second, what brought the UBD under your control? I don't recall reading about it.
If / when the Russians release a German puppet state, it will be under the Hohenzollerns. Romanovs are an old dynasty but perpetually weak and of questionably legitimacy in the eyes of many. Even after 100s of years of ruling Russia you cannot overlook the disasters that they wrought on the country and on themselves - Peter II, Nicholas II, WW1 and the Russian revolution. Not to mention their decidedly un-Russian marriage habits - way too many German protestant princesses in their family tree, for them to count as real and proper embodiments of Russian-ness and Orthodox Christianity.They are tainted with the stain of foreignness, dilettantism, and failure, and will irrevocably remain so no matter how many countries they conquer. This is their weakness.
But having the most noble houses of Europe (Hohenzollern and Habsburg) subservient to them, would go a long way to make them look strong and prestigious in the eyes of their subjects. At least those who take monarchy seriously.
But having the most noble houses of Europe (Hohenzollern and Habsburg) subservient to them, would go a long way to make them look strong and prestigious in the eyes of their subjects. At least those who take monarchy seriously.
It seems unlikely to me that you might be able to take Berlin considering you will be attacking with onyl a few armored divisions over a river and into urban terrain, while the French have ground pounders like one province away. Also in HOI2 the AI ussually has couple infantry divisions in the capital at all times and more if strategic deployment into forward areas fails.
Not to mention the 'Enemy at the Gates' event Germany gets an enemy naton get's too close to Berlin.
If Georgy K. Stark succeeds in the Scandinavian theatre of operations, you should totally make him vice-roy of the North as a reward!
Tsk. The Vice-Roy IN the North! The Vice-Roy IN the North!
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There must always be a Stark in Stockholm (Starkholm?)
Also; Scandinavia knows only one Georgy and his name is STARK
Also; Scandinavia knows only one Georgy and his name is STARK
