aha! that explains it. thanx for clearing that up.
bring on the next update!!
later, caff
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aha! that explains it. thanx for clearing that up.
bring on the next update!!
later, caff
It's actually not turtledove inspired at all. i'm using the stellar CSA mod by CSAbadass.
Yeah, Pat Cleburne's son gave the Germans hell. The Germans had great respect for the soldiers in Confederate grey when they took the field.
And caffran, for you i present the next update.
pt 2 of chapter 1
Chapter 1
Part 2
Part 2
At Langley, Virginia Confederate Army Aviation Lieutenant Memphis O’Donnell sat in his room in the officer’s barracks. It wasn’t that he wanted to be there, but he also didn’t want to be around his fellow aviation officers. Like most of the Confederate military officer corps they came from the old aristocracy of the South and he most certainly did not. Memphis was originally from the lower middle class of Southern society. Since he wasn’t from the “upper crust” he was generally looked down upon by his fellow officers. Things were made worse by the fact that he was easily the best fighter pilot in the squadron. Of course the smug satisfaction he got from besting his snooty aristocratic peers was something he enjoyed.
Memphis sighed and got up from his comfortable chair and made his way to the small kitchen unit in his room. He didn’t really know what he was looking for since he didn’t have any alcohol and didn’t have much food either. He simply wanted a diversion from staring at the clock. The young fighter jockey wouldn’t admit it, but at times like this being shunned by his peers frustrated him and left him incredibly bored. Finally he gave up his search of the kitchen and returned sullenly to his chair. Looking down at himself he realized he hadn’t even changed out of his uniform today. Not that anyone would notice he though to himself.
After a few more minutes of sitting lost in though Memphis heard a series of knocks at his door. He didn’t move. Half a minute later three more knocks were heard. Memphis breathed out and got up from his chair. Sincerely he hoped it wasn’t any of those aristocratic idiots coming to pester him.
He got to the door and threw it open and there standing in his door was his ground crew who hadn’t changed out of there overalls even though they hadn’t been on duty for some time just like him.
His crew chief grinned at him and said, “Evening sir, hope you don’t mind us dropping by like this”
“Well it is unorthodox at the least,” Memphis said and then added. “What brings you to see me?”
The crew members looked around at each other and with a nod the crew chief, Higgins, continued, “Well sir, we was gonna see if you wanted to join us in town tonight, ‘cause we know of a real nice drinking establishment.”
Memphis was somewhat taken aback. This was completely against everything he knew an officer should do. They were supposed to keep relations with the enlisted men at a professional level. Of course, as he though about it he had more in common with the enlisted men than his fellow officers. So, why the hell shouldn’t he join them, they obviously liked him enough to put their asses on the line and come talk to him like this.
Memphis smiled at his crew and said, “I’d be happy to come with you.”
And with that he shut his door and followed his cheerful ground crew to their two waiting cars.
He went to get into the back of the first car but one of his mechanics, Turner, said to him, “Sir, you get the front seat, with Higgins.”
So, Memphis got into the front seat and they roared off into the night. Soon enough the group found their way to a complete dive bar that was bathed in smoke. It was called Yardbirds and the inside was bathed in smoke and dimly lit. There was already a ground made up mostly of enlisted men form the base. A few of them looked up with suspicion at Memphis as he walked in but saw the company he was with and smiled. They knew he had to be one of them if he was being brought there by Higgins who was an old hand on the base.
The group ordered a round of drinks and began to mingle with the other enlisted men who were in the bar. Everyone knew each other and the laughter go louder and louder as the men got drunker and drunker.
Eventually a young man stumbled over to Memphis and asked him, “You don’t hang with Lieutenant Fick do you?”
Memphis had to search his hazy mind for a moment to remember who Fick was. It came to him slowly. Fick, the officer who despised him most, and said he was so much better at piloting than him even though he had lost every mock dogfight they had had against each other.
“Lieutenant Fick,” Memphis said. “Absolutely not, he is a despicable person and I would never pal around with him.”
“Good, that man is the worst officer I’ve ever been ground crew for,” the young man said with some venom.
“He always treats us like dirt and always looks down on us as if we were inferior to him, and he definitely would never come and drink with us,” he continued. “In my book you are a great officer just for not treating us like dirt and even coming to our place of patronage.”
“Well, you are good people and I like you more than the officers,” Memphis said.
This statement elicited a cheer from the drunken men in the bar and another round of drinks was ordered in celebration of the realization that some officers in the CSAAF were decent people.
Yet, as the drinks were being brought out the door to the bar was flung open with a loud whack. Standing in the doorway was an officer and a group of military policemen. The bar immediately went dead silent.
“What is going on here?” questioned the officer. “Enlisted men getting drunk on a Tuesday night?”
Memphis stood up said, “You know very well that it’s New Years and that these men have tomorrow off.”
“Rules are rules, no drinking on a weeknight,” the officer said defiantly.
With that Memphis got up and walked towards the officers his shoes thumping on the floor. As he got to the door way the officer saw that Memphis was no an enlisted man but an officer.
“What are you doing bumming around with these men?” the officer asked.
“These men are good men and doing nothing wrong,” was the curt reply.
“I’ll take you in too if you are paling around with enlisted men, I don’t give a damn if you are an officer,” the officer said.
In the silence that followed Memphis replied simply, “You can try.”
Then the officer went to grab Memphis and was met by a stiff punch to the gut followed by a strong right hook which put the man on the ground. Memphis quickly turned to the MP to his front left and caught him with a left hook and a hard right to the nose knocking him back. Yet before he had time to turn he could see in his peripheral vision the baton of the other MP coming down. With a hard and painful thump the baton connected with his skull and everything went black as he fell to the floor and saw a truck of MP’s unloading outside.
Memphis sighed and got up from his comfortable chair and made his way to the small kitchen unit in his room. He didn’t really know what he was looking for since he didn’t have any alcohol and didn’t have much food either. He simply wanted a diversion from staring at the clock. The young fighter jockey wouldn’t admit it, but at times like this being shunned by his peers frustrated him and left him incredibly bored. Finally he gave up his search of the kitchen and returned sullenly to his chair. Looking down at himself he realized he hadn’t even changed out of his uniform today. Not that anyone would notice he though to himself.
After a few more minutes of sitting lost in though Memphis heard a series of knocks at his door. He didn’t move. Half a minute later three more knocks were heard. Memphis breathed out and got up from his chair. Sincerely he hoped it wasn’t any of those aristocratic idiots coming to pester him.
He got to the door and threw it open and there standing in his door was his ground crew who hadn’t changed out of there overalls even though they hadn’t been on duty for some time just like him.
His crew chief grinned at him and said, “Evening sir, hope you don’t mind us dropping by like this”
“Well it is unorthodox at the least,” Memphis said and then added. “What brings you to see me?”
The crew members looked around at each other and with a nod the crew chief, Higgins, continued, “Well sir, we was gonna see if you wanted to join us in town tonight, ‘cause we know of a real nice drinking establishment.”
Memphis was somewhat taken aback. This was completely against everything he knew an officer should do. They were supposed to keep relations with the enlisted men at a professional level. Of course, as he though about it he had more in common with the enlisted men than his fellow officers. So, why the hell shouldn’t he join them, they obviously liked him enough to put their asses on the line and come talk to him like this.
Memphis smiled at his crew and said, “I’d be happy to come with you.”
And with that he shut his door and followed his cheerful ground crew to their two waiting cars.
He went to get into the back of the first car but one of his mechanics, Turner, said to him, “Sir, you get the front seat, with Higgins.”
So, Memphis got into the front seat and they roared off into the night. Soon enough the group found their way to a complete dive bar that was bathed in smoke. It was called Yardbirds and the inside was bathed in smoke and dimly lit. There was already a ground made up mostly of enlisted men form the base. A few of them looked up with suspicion at Memphis as he walked in but saw the company he was with and smiled. They knew he had to be one of them if he was being brought there by Higgins who was an old hand on the base.
The group ordered a round of drinks and began to mingle with the other enlisted men who were in the bar. Everyone knew each other and the laughter go louder and louder as the men got drunker and drunker.
Eventually a young man stumbled over to Memphis and asked him, “You don’t hang with Lieutenant Fick do you?”
Memphis had to search his hazy mind for a moment to remember who Fick was. It came to him slowly. Fick, the officer who despised him most, and said he was so much better at piloting than him even though he had lost every mock dogfight they had had against each other.
“Lieutenant Fick,” Memphis said. “Absolutely not, he is a despicable person and I would never pal around with him.”
“Good, that man is the worst officer I’ve ever been ground crew for,” the young man said with some venom.
“He always treats us like dirt and always looks down on us as if we were inferior to him, and he definitely would never come and drink with us,” he continued. “In my book you are a great officer just for not treating us like dirt and even coming to our place of patronage.”
“Well, you are good people and I like you more than the officers,” Memphis said.
This statement elicited a cheer from the drunken men in the bar and another round of drinks was ordered in celebration of the realization that some officers in the CSAAF were decent people.
Yet, as the drinks were being brought out the door to the bar was flung open with a loud whack. Standing in the doorway was an officer and a group of military policemen. The bar immediately went dead silent.
“What is going on here?” questioned the officer. “Enlisted men getting drunk on a Tuesday night?”
Memphis stood up said, “You know very well that it’s New Years and that these men have tomorrow off.”
“Rules are rules, no drinking on a weeknight,” the officer said defiantly.
With that Memphis got up and walked towards the officers his shoes thumping on the floor. As he got to the door way the officer saw that Memphis was no an enlisted man but an officer.
“What are you doing bumming around with these men?” the officer asked.
“These men are good men and doing nothing wrong,” was the curt reply.
“I’ll take you in too if you are paling around with enlisted men, I don’t give a damn if you are an officer,” the officer said.
In the silence that followed Memphis replied simply, “You can try.”
Then the officer went to grab Memphis and was met by a stiff punch to the gut followed by a strong right hook which put the man on the ground. Memphis quickly turned to the MP to his front left and caught him with a left hook and a hard right to the nose knocking him back. Yet before he had time to turn he could see in his peripheral vision the baton of the other MP coming down. With a hard and painful thump the baton connected with his skull and everything went black as he fell to the floor and saw a truck of MP’s unloading outside.
I must say I've read this from the beginning and haven't commented until now.
I always have had a fascination of Dixie! Keep up the good work, and God bless the Confederate States of America.
I always have had a fascination of Dixie! Keep up the good work, and God bless the Confederate States of America.
well thank you for coming out of the shadows to comment!
i'm glad you are enjoying the story
Nice update, I like the foundation you're laying for your characters...it'll be great to see them grow as their mettle is tested in war. Or a fight with the MPs!!! lol.
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoy the set up i'm trying to do. I assure you their will be surprises as the New Generation becomes The Veterans as various wars come about.
a bar-room brawl!!!!
more AAR's should have one, it brings a sense of realism.
after all, who hasn't been involved in one.....or two.....now and againo
cracking stuf SC, bring it on!
later, caff
more AAR's should have one, it brings a sense of realism.
after all, who hasn't been involved in one.....or two.....now and again
ocracking stuf SC, bring it on!
later, caff
Chapter 2
Part 1
Part 1
Langley, Virginia
January 1, 1936
With a huge lump on his head and a faint memory of the night before Memphis awoke in the brig on base. He groaned and felt the lump on his head. Silently he cursed himself. How could he have been so brazen? He simply should have stepped aside and let those MP’s do as they pleased. Now he was going to be in a world of hurt and knew it.
Slowly he sat up on the little cot he had been unconscious on and put his head in his hands. His head throbbed with pain. At least he could say he had taken two of the three men he had faced in a fight last night. Plus they were MP’s who were no pushovers in a brawl. As he tried to trace the events of last night a guard saw he was awake, and walked over to his cell and banged his baton on the metal bars.
The loud clang caused a wave of pain to move outward from Memphis’s head.
“Look who’s up,” the guard said with a hint of malice.
“No need to yell,” mumbled Memphis.
The guard laughed and walked back towards his desk in the small brig. He sat down with a hearty thump and turned his chair to face Memphis’s cell.
“You are in deep shit Lieutenant,” the guard said.
“Am I?” was the rhetorical response.
Naturally the rhetorical nature of the question was lost on the guard who laughed heartily and said, “You assaulted an officer and an MP and gave each of them some broken bones.”
“They deserved it,” Memphis mumbled.
The guard didn’t hear him and assumed he wasn’t going to reply, so he went back to whatever it was he was doing. Meanwhile, Memphis put his throbbing head into his hands and tried hard to think about why he had done what he had done.
He thought first he shouldn’t have done that, and that he could possibly lose his commission over the incident. Of course, that outcome wouldn’t matter much seeing as his family and his friends back home never thought he would make it as an officer in the Confederate military, much less a pilot as well. Memphis hoped he wouldn’t be discharged and prove them right. More so he still wanted to fly. Even though he strongly disliked the people around him, he loved flying and fighting so high in the air. Still, he felt he was right in what he did. That pompous officer and his MP lackeys were asking for it when they came in trying to use their power to get good honest men in trouble for no reason other than they could. Getting kicked out of the military for sticking up for good men, his good men would piss him off to no extent.
Letting out a heavy sigh he laid back on his cot and tried to fall back to sleep and forget his painful cranium. He must have drifted off after a while because suddenly he was being very rudely awakened by the guard banging on his cell bars.
“Wake up sunshine, it’s time for you to talk to the higher ups.”
“Joy.”
“Don’t be smart Lieutenant, that will only count against you.”
Another pompous ass, thought Memphis as he got up off his cot.
The guard opened the cell door and let him past his little desk and through the door to the brig into a main entrance. There were various officers and enlisted men about all in their nice uniforms performing menial duties or getting ready to see a judge or attorney. The guard led Memphis into the main entrance area, and then left down a hallway at the end of which was a single door. The guard opened the door and inside behind a great oaken desk sat a man, slightly balding, with glasses.
As Memphis entered the room the guard shut the door and stood ouside.
“Sit down, I’ll be passing judgment on what your punishment will be.”
Memphis sat, and asked, “So, you’re a judge?”
“Not quite, I’m Major Mathews, and I handle things that aren’t quite a court martial, but could be if I deem them to be.”
“So this isn’t a court martial?”
“I could determine that you need one, but no this isn’t. This is where officers go first if they were involved in a fight or some other misdemeanor.”
“Well, I guess you want to ask questions, so what do you want to know sir?”
“What gave you the idea that it would be a good idea to beat and officer and an MP senseless?”
Blunt and to the point, Memphis liked that and felt that he might be able to get out of his situation if he treaded lightly.
“Sir, they were threatening to arrest men who were doing nothing wrong.”
“That doesn’t answer my question Lieutenant.”
Memphis sighed and recounted the story of the pompous officer threatening to arrest men doing nothing wrong and him with them and the MP’s trying to attack him after essentially saying it they could arrest people if they got through him.
Major Mathews sighed and took his glasses off.
“Normally this would be a court martial simply because of what the MP’s called an unprovoked assault and obstruction of justice, but from hearing your end of the story and the story of those enlisted men I have to say that the MP’s were working outside of their authority.”
He paused, and Memphis remained silent, so he continued.
“Therefore no charges will be put against you, but I am going to have you transferred since it seems that this is going to cause some bad blood and we can’t have that ruining unit cohesion.”
Memphis didn’t let his happiness show. He wasn’t going to get kicked out, and he was going to get transferred somewhere else. His happiness was somewhat stifled though by the thought of leaving his ground crew behind.
“Any questions Lieutenant?” the Major asked.
“One sir, what about my ground crew?”
“Do you want them to be transferred with you?”
Memphis simply nodded, and the Major stared at him hard.
“Look, you seem like a good guy who got caught in a bad spot, so usually I would deny that type of request, but I’ll approve it if you think those guys will go with you.”
“Yes sir, they would follow me into hell.”
“Let’s hope they don’t have too,” the Major said.
January 1, 1936
With a huge lump on his head and a faint memory of the night before Memphis awoke in the brig on base. He groaned and felt the lump on his head. Silently he cursed himself. How could he have been so brazen? He simply should have stepped aside and let those MP’s do as they pleased. Now he was going to be in a world of hurt and knew it.
Slowly he sat up on the little cot he had been unconscious on and put his head in his hands. His head throbbed with pain. At least he could say he had taken two of the three men he had faced in a fight last night. Plus they were MP’s who were no pushovers in a brawl. As he tried to trace the events of last night a guard saw he was awake, and walked over to his cell and banged his baton on the metal bars.
The loud clang caused a wave of pain to move outward from Memphis’s head.
“Look who’s up,” the guard said with a hint of malice.
“No need to yell,” mumbled Memphis.
The guard laughed and walked back towards his desk in the small brig. He sat down with a hearty thump and turned his chair to face Memphis’s cell.
“You are in deep shit Lieutenant,” the guard said.
“Am I?” was the rhetorical response.
Naturally the rhetorical nature of the question was lost on the guard who laughed heartily and said, “You assaulted an officer and an MP and gave each of them some broken bones.”
“They deserved it,” Memphis mumbled.
The guard didn’t hear him and assumed he wasn’t going to reply, so he went back to whatever it was he was doing. Meanwhile, Memphis put his throbbing head into his hands and tried hard to think about why he had done what he had done.
He thought first he shouldn’t have done that, and that he could possibly lose his commission over the incident. Of course, that outcome wouldn’t matter much seeing as his family and his friends back home never thought he would make it as an officer in the Confederate military, much less a pilot as well. Memphis hoped he wouldn’t be discharged and prove them right. More so he still wanted to fly. Even though he strongly disliked the people around him, he loved flying and fighting so high in the air. Still, he felt he was right in what he did. That pompous officer and his MP lackeys were asking for it when they came in trying to use their power to get good honest men in trouble for no reason other than they could. Getting kicked out of the military for sticking up for good men, his good men would piss him off to no extent.
Letting out a heavy sigh he laid back on his cot and tried to fall back to sleep and forget his painful cranium. He must have drifted off after a while because suddenly he was being very rudely awakened by the guard banging on his cell bars.
“Wake up sunshine, it’s time for you to talk to the higher ups.”
“Joy.”
“Don’t be smart Lieutenant, that will only count against you.”
Another pompous ass, thought Memphis as he got up off his cot.
The guard opened the cell door and let him past his little desk and through the door to the brig into a main entrance. There were various officers and enlisted men about all in their nice uniforms performing menial duties or getting ready to see a judge or attorney. The guard led Memphis into the main entrance area, and then left down a hallway at the end of which was a single door. The guard opened the door and inside behind a great oaken desk sat a man, slightly balding, with glasses.
As Memphis entered the room the guard shut the door and stood ouside.
“Sit down, I’ll be passing judgment on what your punishment will be.”
Memphis sat, and asked, “So, you’re a judge?”
“Not quite, I’m Major Mathews, and I handle things that aren’t quite a court martial, but could be if I deem them to be.”
“So this isn’t a court martial?”
“I could determine that you need one, but no this isn’t. This is where officers go first if they were involved in a fight or some other misdemeanor.”
“Well, I guess you want to ask questions, so what do you want to know sir?”
“What gave you the idea that it would be a good idea to beat and officer and an MP senseless?”
Blunt and to the point, Memphis liked that and felt that he might be able to get out of his situation if he treaded lightly.
“Sir, they were threatening to arrest men who were doing nothing wrong.”
“That doesn’t answer my question Lieutenant.”
Memphis sighed and recounted the story of the pompous officer threatening to arrest men doing nothing wrong and him with them and the MP’s trying to attack him after essentially saying it they could arrest people if they got through him.
Major Mathews sighed and took his glasses off.
“Normally this would be a court martial simply because of what the MP’s called an unprovoked assault and obstruction of justice, but from hearing your end of the story and the story of those enlisted men I have to say that the MP’s were working outside of their authority.”
He paused, and Memphis remained silent, so he continued.
“Therefore no charges will be put against you, but I am going to have you transferred since it seems that this is going to cause some bad blood and we can’t have that ruining unit cohesion.”
Memphis didn’t let his happiness show. He wasn’t going to get kicked out, and he was going to get transferred somewhere else. His happiness was somewhat stifled though by the thought of leaving his ground crew behind.
“Any questions Lieutenant?” the Major asked.
“One sir, what about my ground crew?”
“Do you want them to be transferred with you?”
Memphis simply nodded, and the Major stared at him hard.
“Look, you seem like a good guy who got caught in a bad spot, so usually I would deny that type of request, but I’ll approve it if you think those guys will go with you.”
“Yes sir, they would follow me into hell.”
“Let’s hope they don’t have too,” the Major said.
sorry about the long delay, but i've been slammed with school work lately. I'll try to update as much as i can though! It's not dead!
Just thought I'd stop in and say good job. Liking the story so far so I'm on board as well. Love a good Confederate AAR
You have yet another reader for your dandy ol' ship.
Love it so far - keep up the good work!
Love it so far - keep up the good work!
Solid update once again. Glad too see this continue! (Sometimes a good break is needed though)
Keep up the great work!
Keep up the great work!
Just thought I'd stop in and say good job. Liking the story so far so I'm on board as well. Love a good Confederate AAR
I'm glad you stopped in and are enjoying the show!
Glad to have another readaar! I'm also glad you're enjoying this yarn i'm spinning. I'll try not to disappoint.
I was hoping it wouldn't be to bad of an update. gotta get in some filler before more action. And you are indeed right, sometimes a break is a good thing. i just wish it was being caused by huge amounts of homework.
seems Memphis had a lucky escape. depending on where he's transferred to....
keep it up mate
later, caff
keep it up mate
later, caff
Dropping in to say I'm going to begin reading your AAR! I've always had a thing for the American Confederacy.
Yep, he made it out this time, but we'll have to see where he goes. Luckily he can't be exiled to Alaska!
Glad to have you on board good sir!
Very nice story!
Is there any chance that CSA will follow their old European democratic friends while USA would side with Axis? Maybe some crazy guy could come to power in North.
Waiting for up-dates.
Is there any chance that CSA will follow their old European democratic friends while USA would side with Axis? Maybe some crazy guy could come to power in North.
Waiting for up-dates.
i'm sorry i haven't been updating! i've been slammed with school work which is not fun.
hopefully i will have an update soon.
and no, the USA won't be going axis, it would be interesting, but i am quite sure the CSA would not be able to withstand a war with their northerly neighbors.
hopefully i will have an update soon.
and no, the USA won't be going axis, it would be interesting, but i am quite sure the CSA would not be able to withstand a war with their northerly neighbors.