The Rise of Germany

The blazing summer sun had just begun to dip below the horizon and herald the coming of the stars. The heat had dissipated but the anger of the crowd had not. Mayhem ran amok, fury overflowed and hatred boiled over. Groups of enraged youths hurled Molotov cocktails at assembled police, fully equipped in riot gear with baton, shield and helmets but it was clear that the constabulary were no match for thousands that ran amok with impunity. Cars had been upturned and set on fire, creating deadly fire traps that could turn into devastating fire balls when the petrol tanks ignited. Windows of shops were smashed in and people ran in and out carrying what they could, looting freely. The great market complex where people of all ages and creeds came to buy and sell was ablaze, the fire racing through the sprawling complex and burning all the stalls and sheds. No part of the city was immune to the violence. It had all begun with a large rally in the city center, closely monitored by authorites, demonstrating the increasingly desperate war against England.

Roughly 50,000 people crammed into the streets, disrupting traffic and business, earning the ire of the middle class citizens who had a habit of classing these protestors as unwashed hippies who were everywhere when war was declared or big environmental issues were on the table such as the pollution that seemingly crippled Germany in some cities. Protestors shouted out aloud and carried banners calling for an end to hostilities and to abandon the war mongering ways of the government. It was also a thinly veiled attack on the current administration, one which the officials kept a close eye on as of late, minor disturbances had been reported against the Wilhelm’s government. War veterans were the protestor’s ammunition who were called on to speak about their experiences and why war must be avoided at all costs.

“War is an abhorrence, it is a CRIME against mankind. By committing ourselves to these grossly unjust actions, we rob ourselves of fathers, sons, brothers and uncles who contribute to the rich diversity of our every day lives. Young men cut down in their prime, never to have experienced what we all take for granted. Fathers who leave behind their women, children, who will never experience watching their children blossom into adults and become productive members of society like them. The suffering of innocents who have nothing to do with the petty politics that our hierarchy immerse themselves in, they must be protected. It is these people who suffer the most. These people who loose their homes to bombs or occupying troops, their worldly possessions and worst of all their lives.

"What will you do in these insane times? Will you sit back and say “What can one man do?”. That is the lazy mans way out, of course you can do something! You can lend your voice to others who feel the same way that YOU do! Don’t sit there accept that what government tells you is gospel because they LIE! There needs to be a change in the fundamentals of our system and the way nations interact and they must strive to a better way. For war is not a better way. Let peace be the way!”

The crowd cheered and applauded Klaus Burger who had seen all that war dished out. He was missing his left arm after a shelling in Italy and now had to suffer the agonies as a father with his son part of the army who was trapped in SCotland. He was the ideal spokesman for a disaffected generation of soldiers who had been caught in the juggernaut of Germany’s imperialistic aims. The rally continued harmlessly enough with the build up in protestor numbers and police numbers. However, as happens with such a large gathering of people, unruly elements begun to disrupt proceedings, those who had extreme views and did not tolerate others points. Fighting broke out and police moved in to quell the trouble but here came the heavy handed nature of the police whose actions only further served to ignited troubles. Before long, it was on for young and old as law and order broke down totally. People begun to engage in pitch battles with the hopelessly outnumbered police who were inadequately equipped. They had to fall back and reassess the situation that had spiraled rapidly out of control.

Then along came elements of people who were looking for trouble and had no interest in the original intents of the rally. It quickly resembled a war zone, rubbish strewed the streets and footpaths with mobs running amok setting fire to anything that would burn. The beautiful city was gripped with disorder as the armed forces begun to arrive after the police admitted defeat. Martial law was imposed and through out the German empire, law and order broke down as more and more people vented their anger. The protests begun to enact a crippling toll. The police force set up barricades to try and contain the rioters and the presence of the German army was called in. The Federal Ministry of Transport, Building and Housing headquarters burned furiously as incendiary devices were hurled through the windows. Thankfully for its occupants, they had long been evacuated. The Hotel Aldorn was the sight of running battles between rioters and police, with their tactics been suspiciously co-ordinated. Then came the gunfire after several days of crippling protests, which had now become an excuse to create a dangerous battlefield. When RPG’s were fired at armoured vehicles from unseen locations, the Special Operations Service, the elite amongst the elite of German commandoes were called in.

The Special Ops were a highly adaptable rapid response force capable of quick inserts to break hostage situations or highly covert raids on terrorist camps or more conventional maneuvers suited to a traditional battlefield. Unrelenting, utterly brutal and without any fear, many rumours abounded about their practices in the field. They were the last resort were all other measures had failed. Whilst they managed to establish a presence and arrest some of the hard core trouble makers, the ring leaders escaped and trouble flared up across the city and indeed across the nation, from the homeland, to Turkey, through Serbia and Romania. The nation of Germany faced a crisis not seen since the nuclear weapons disaster.
 
Firstly, I dont think Im that good to be writing a book, secondly, I have very little time to write anything as judged by the dates between posts, thirdly, I have a habit of starting new stories and wanting to post them instead of concentrating on one as i have Immortal Persia somewhere on the board and I also want to post a story on a war seen from an individuals point between France and Russia. Glad you like it though Cheezy...theres still plenty to come.

Athens

King George paced across the situation room as he listened to the reports from his military advisors. They engaged in nervous, excited chatter, trying to compete with one another to attract the ear of the King. The King gave up trying to hear them all and snapped angrily. “Quiet! Enough of your endless babbling. I will hear one of you at a time…PLEASE!” In an instant, the crowded room fell silent. He moved to the head of a long mahogany table that had an array of lab tops and other electrical equipment and sat down heavily in his chair. “Gentleman, please sit” he commanded.

After all had sat down he begun in a quiet voice. He looked far too old, too worn by what had been transpiring only in the last few hours. George wanted to cry, he wanted to let loose a cry of despair at the totally unfair and unjust events that were going to do untold damage to the nation. He rubbed his face with both hands and looked at General Kontoglou, a rather large man with sad eyes but a no nonsense disposition. “General Kontoglou, a report on the enemy’s strength”

The General stood up and walked to a large electronic screen, a greatly enhanced satellite image of Athens and the surrounding countryside. “Ok gentleman, around 6 am Russian troops stormed the shores of Ormos Vraonas at the inlet, as you can see here. Destroyers are positioned due west in the deeper waters and you can make out transports that delivered the men and vehicles ashore. It is difficult to make out exact numbers but there have been roughly 20,000 men set ashore, Russian marines and ordinary infantry have been put ashore in the last several hours under the noses of our intelligence forces. There are some thousands more expected. Now from the point of the amphibious landing, a division moved inland and secured the international airport in a lightning raid. There were some casualties, mostly civilians who were caught out. Now nothing can get in or out, only Russian troops and supplies. I can assure you they will attempt to secure or perhaps damage the remaining airports, particularly at Marathon so that any attempts to re-enforce the city”

“What of the city General? Is its capture inevitable?” asked the King, already knowing the answer

“I am afraid so sir. This is why all government functions and vital staff were removed as quickly as possible to Larissa”

“Damned lucky that we were able to move so quickly to the Athini airport. The Russians have moved with such speed. A very well planned operation with the most minimal of fuss” noted Interior Minister Alexis Panapolous. “What of our forces in the city General?”

“Well, they are under orders to retreat at the first signs of the situation becoming untenable” The General glanced at his wristwatch. “Which I would imagine they would be pulling back in the next half hour. The Russians are indeed moving with speed”

The head of the state intelligence agency, Nick Kantouras had an anguished look. “So our brave soldiers are just to hand over our beloved city to those communist scumbags without a fight”

“Peace Nick, peace. We must accept the limitations of our predicament. There is no way we could resist the Russians. As the General said, there are thousands of Russians heading to Athens, there may be thousands more. They have vehicles, warships, and heavy guns. We do not have those resources. If we were to put up a struggle, then they could destroy the city and kill thousands of innocents. Our soldiers are trying to evacuate as much civilians as they can” The King was a calming influence in such situations and was able to overcome the most hotheaded Greek nationals within his cabinet. The intelligence chief was such a person, a man who loved his country through and through.

“This may only be the beginning George” persisted Nic, one of the few members of the government to address him by his first name. “The Russians will not stop at Athens, they will go where the British had failed. They will invade our island cities; they will make the whole of Greece an extension of the Russian nation”

“I agree with the intelligence chief sir” said the General. “The Greek people are too proud to accept defeat. They will not stand for a meek surrender. We must seek help from where ever we can. I urge you to contact Wilhelm”

“Wilhelm…mmm, perhaps there is something that the Germans can do for us” the King mused.

“It can only be with them sending in troops to drive the Russians out. I am sure our relations between us will get a positive outcome” urged the General. “Germany surely will not allow Russia any opportunity to impose its views in Europe”

The King stood up a moment and stared at the satellite images. He could only hope that Wilhelm would send in troops but deep down he felt pessimistic about such an outcome. Even though Germany and Greece had cemented strong ties at the signing of the Treaty of Mithilini when Germany handed over territory lost to the Austrians and Swedish, George had failed to convince Wilhelm in signing an understanding in the event if Greece were invaded the Germans would respond with force against the aggressor. Instead they had agreed on a section of the treaty that would allow unlimited movement between the two nations on each other’s soil. Would Wilhelm want a confrontation with Russia? Currently he was dealing with Great Britain and in any case Wilhelm’s demeanor seemed to have changed. It was worth a shot though; he had a lot to loose
 
Major Frank Lopez nodded off as a French military vehicle wound its way through the rubble-strewn streets of Marseille. Exhaustion clutched at the fringes of his mind and started to take hold. The last few days had seen sleep come at a premium, if not at all, as his brave group of French soldiers fought a long lost war to hold the Spanish forces and the now the English, at bay. The jeep bounced about on the uneven surfaces, swerving to miss rubble and occasionally braking at obstructions, with Lopez sleeping through it all. The jeep carried other worn out soldiers as part of a convoy back towards a newly designated French military camp an hours drive from the city centre that was towards what was the Spanish front line a couple of hours ago. This was were the first British shells reigned down upon the unsuspecting Spanish and it showed. The make shift camp was an old primary school and it remained largely unscathed from the destruction. Vehicles tore up the closely cut grass; the garden beds were unceremoniously trashed to make way for objects of the non-botanical variety. Every square inch of the school was utilized to house several thousand French soldiers. Some sat together and talked to pass the time, others played basketball, some kicked soccer balls around the sports field. There were no orders to issue, communications between the field and Paris were patchy at best and none of the officers could tell their men anything that was concrete. At least for the time being the men were able to get some much needed rest and was spared risking their lives in a brutal conflict for a change. They were now safe in Marseille but were left directionless.

Lopez had woken up when the driver shook his shoulder gently and he reluctantly climbed out of the warm cab of the vehicle; an unforgiving chill came with the setting sun. Lopez ignored the crowds of soldiers going to and fro. None of them were under his command, they had been ordered back to Paris with his Lieutenant, Roger and now he was a man with nothing to do. He didn’t care anyway. All he wanted was something to eat and then somewhere to pass out for the next week. Judging by the man that hurriedly walked towards him, this wasn’t going to happen. “Major Lopez! Major Lopez!” called out the Corporal. Lopez let out a heavy sigh that left him feeling flat. “Corporal, this better be good,” mumbled the burly American. “I am sorry sir” The corporal offered a quick salute that was reciprocated, “I understand you are very tired but you are required to meet in a video link up with Paris immediately with Field Marshall Fache. Please follow me” The corporal walked off as Lopez mumbled something under his breath. He let the solider lead the way, as he made no effort to keep up.

They walked into the principal’s office that had been quickly set up as the main command office. He gratefully sunk into a plush leather chair, which could have easily doubled as somewhere to sleep. Several officers scurried about the room, ensuing that the incoming feed was spot on. Lopez rubbed his hands over his closely shaved head and tried to sink even further into the chair, closing his eyes momentarily. He came back into the world when the officers informed him of the successful link with France’s highest-ranking soldier. Lopez looked at a startlingly clear image of Fache. He looked like a relic from another military, a traditionalist at heart but forward thinking enough to accept new ideas and strategies. Lopez liked him after meeting him twice a year ago when the French hired him.

“Major, it is good to see you in one piece” begun Fache. “I have heard the preliminary reports of what happened down there”

“Likewise sir. Lets just say its became one big dogs breakfast when the British stepped in…not to mention the Germans” replied Lopez

“What is the situation currently?”

“Well, it’s damn quite at the moment. Too damn quite for my liking. Spain have buggered off with their tails between their legs, the British…well, I have no idea what their up to at the moment. The Germans currently hold Marseille. Thank Christ they showed up when they did” Lopez paused briefly “Are you aware of what they are up to sir?”

Fache frowned slightly. “How do you know of their intentions?” Lopez smiled. “A certain Colonel in the German army who thought I should at least know what was happening due to our co-operation. They are looking to ‘help’ France in her struggle against Spain”

“We are well aware of this, mind you Germany never does anything without there been some benefits spin off in her direction” pointed out Fache. “Yet are you aware of the large grant of Euro’s we received, plus help in implementing our Integrated Defence System and military engineers in repairing our MSR’s? (main supply route)” Lopez responded in the negative. “Well, the main reason I requested the linkup was because of this little boost for us. One does suspect that somewhere along the track, should word get out about, that the Germans might try and blackmail us. Otto Schneider, their Foreign Minister, is a crafty devil as he is behind all this .Our spooks seem to agree that the Germans have set the deal up to make it look like we did the dirty on them and committed espionage. We are willing to allow this little revelation slip, as it is, as we would loose more from pushing the Germans away”

“I don’t like where this is heading, with all due respects sir,” said Lopez warily.

“Listen a little bit more before you make any judgments Major. France cannot win this war at all. There is no chance we can push them back without Germany’s help. We can’t ask them to bomb the uranium mine because they would outright refuse, as they are not at war. So…for their shenanigans, we are going to bring them into it and get them to fight the war for us”

It was Lopez’s turn to frown. He leaned forward in his comfy chair. “Just how does France plan on roping the Germans in on this? Like you said, there is no way they will go to war with Spain on our behest, unless it was absolutely in their interest…Wilhelm doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested”

“Ah good Major…there will be no pleading or grovelling, only lots of subterfuge…covert warfare to be precise” Lopez thought for a split second and an astonished look spread across his face. “Surely your not suggesting setting up the Germans…as in making out an attack looked like the Spaniards”

“No, no, no Major, not at all. Just the other way around. Look, with this fresh injection of funds we can refit the Premier Régiment Parachutiste d’Infanterie de Marine”. In English, it was known as the First Marine Parachute Regiment. Elite. Covert. Outright dangerous. When they had existed, they had been used in previous wars against the Spanish with devastating results…they were even responsible for destroying a natural gas power station in Zurich. When the economy went into meltdown, fiscally and nuclear, these secret killing machines were disbanded. Now the opportunity existed to send them back into the fray with new leadership and fresh blood, from some of the best soldiers that France had to offer, many of them experienced and hardened in the current war. “Major, we are going to go on the offensive but right under the Spaniards noses. We have been on the back foot so far, now is the time to strike back”. Lopez was still sceptical but was willing to hear Fache out. “Just what do you have in mind sir?”

“The uranium mine. We are going to send a team in and blow it off the map. You Major, it would be an honour if you were to head the unit to go in. The way our intelligence officers and special ops specialists see it, we can make it out to look like German sabotage. The Germans have several commando units in the area. The finger would naturally fall upon the Germans as the Spaniards are convinced of our limited capacity to do anything other than get badly beaten. Major, several of our spooks are on their way to your location as we speak so they will take you through the whole set up from beginning to detonation and will provide you with the men and equipment necessary. Major…this is perhaps our best chance of seriously hampering Alphonso’s capacity to create nuclear weapons.”

Lopez had leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped on the back of his head. The former Army Ranger had spent some time with several covert organizations within the US. He was intrigued by Fache’s plan, though he did not fool himself into thinking that it would be a walk in the park. He had also hoped that he would no longer be required and he could head to the next destination on his mercenary world tour. Clearly that was not going to happen.”Ok then, I’ll do it. It will cost you however…that we can work on later” Fache smiled. “Thank you Major, you will be well rewarded for your services, don’t worry about that. I can’t tell you anymore at this stage, all will be revealed when our men get there. I have several briefings to attend now. God speed Major” Lopez smiled and nodded in return as Fache’s image disappeared from the screen, replaced by a snowy reception. The American’s smile vanished and he stared at it the screen awhile, lost in thought, his mind ticking over, already having pushed out his old plans from his mind and had already begun planning for the next.
 
Great story, nice to see you continuing it all these years later! And it has finally gotten a rating, which happens to be 5 stars.
 
Thanks. It never had occured to me until you pointed it out, that I have been doing this for close to three years, on and off!

It was a scene straight out of the medieval period. A semi dressed man, his clothes ragged, his face battered beyond recognition, lacerations and burn marks covering his chest, hung from the ceiling with chains clasped around his wrists, though not quite fully suspended. There were screams of agony echoing throughout but they were not his, but of others in the detention facility hidden away at an obscure location outside of Moscow. A place for political prisoners and captured foreign spies and troops. To come in here as a prisoner was to disappear…for good. They would arrive here by special transport, blindfolded and gagged and hands secured behind their backs and marched into the holding areas where they would be ‘processed’. From there they would be assigned a dingy cell, either on their own, depending who they were, or with several others if they were ‘nothings’. The food was worse than basic, there was a hole in the ground for a toilet and that often backed up, there was a simple mattress to sleep on and nothing else.

Those who had little to offer fared worst, if that was at all possible inside the Correction Facility 6, the worst of all state run institutions. They were used for medical experiments, such as for testing nerve gasses and the like inside a nondescript building known as the Research Institution. Various cruel medical procedures were inflicted upon the wretched prisoners, much like that of the infamous Dr Joseph Mengel, the ‘Angel of Death’. If they were lucky they died quickly from either the tests or diseases from the bad food and overcrowding. The physically capable ones where also used as cheap labour to construct new buildings or were sent off to work under the Glavnoe Upravlenie Lagerej Gornopererabatyvayushchey i Metallurgicheckoy Promyshlennosti, the chief of Mining and Metallurgy Industries. Those at the point of death where either left to die in the extremes of weather or were dragged away, shot at close range and their bodies unceremoniously dumped. Those who could offer something were used to extract as much information as to root out other political ‘dissenters’, who would in turn be rounded up and incarcerated. These valuable prisoners were never released, subject to torture and routine beatings from guards. When whole families were rounded up, the children were housed in separate facilities and spent their time in the Re-Education Center, where they were indoctrinated into the party and its machinations.

Three men stood in the room, standing still, staring impassively. They were unmoved at the barbaric scene before them. They made no effort to unclasp him as the man fidgeted slightly and murmured something incomprehensible. All three turned around when a tall, well-built man with jet-black hair and a thin moustache was let into the room. He moved straight towards the hanging man and ran his eye over his pathetic form. He stood back and turned to a man on the left. “You said you have information for me?” he begun without wasting time.

“Yes sir. The family and his advisors have fled southwards yet he refused to elaborate where. He says that their plan is to track south from Moscow, utilizing support from sympathizers in the region and then make their way through Romania and seek refuge within southern Austria. I have seen to it that special ops units are engaged in their pursuit. However should they make it into German territory, then they we cannot capture them. They will be lost to us barring unforeseen circumstances in our favour”

“You have done well Igor…It appears our ‘friend’ has more of a stomach than we have given him credit for” mused the tall man. “Yes sir, he has endured much suffering and he still has not given up much. He is not as cowardly as I had been lead to believe. Yet I feel we can break him fully”He walked up to the shackled man. “This can all be over. All you have to do is tell us where they are…their exact movements, those who are helping them and it will all stop. You have the power, Nicolas…Tsar Nicolas” He smirked at those last two words, Tsar Nicolas. He drew back deep into his throat and spat in his face. Nicolas could do nothing but accept the indignity. He had given it all up long ago, after the savage beating at the hands of the Red Guards over several days.

“You have the power to make your ‘indignities’ stop. It’s no good taking the path of stubborn resistance…all that you had and stood for is gone. Dead. It is all over. Just tell us all and you can live a comfortable life from now on” He walked around Nicolas slowly and deliberately. Facing him again, for no reason other than sheer thuggery he unleashed a viscous right hook that smashed into his jaw. Nicolas cried out in agony through all the blood and mucus that accumulated in his mouth. He massaged his fist from the crushing blow, wiping away blood from his knuckles. “Take him down and see to it that he receives some medical attention. We are not finished with him yet; he can still prove useful, even if he refuses to give up the whereabouts of his family. I must be off, I have an important address to make at the Kremlin within the hour”

“Very well sir…we shall extract everything we can from him,” promised Igor, glancing at the prisoner who tried to raise his head defiantly, but the excruciating stabbing pains inside his battered skull conspired against him.

“See to it that you do” replied the visitor over his shoulder as he was about to walk out the door. “Its imperative that all links to the past is erased. Fully. There can be no focal points for resistance” The men guarding the door snapped salutes as they opened the heavy metal door for him and as it shut, it created a booming noise that reverberated through the room as Igor instructed his two offsiders to take down the pathetic figure of the former leader of Russia.
 
Peter Egorov stood before the vast assembly of provincial leaders and party officials, who were standing and offering a strong round of applause that seemed to go on and shake the foundations of the Kremlin. He stood there taking in the adulations with a slight self-satisfied grin on his well-defined features. His black hair, slicked back, shined under the harsh lights illuminating his podium. He had a thin, neatly trimmed moustache and his brown eyes exuded strength and confidence and not a little ruthlessness. He stood there a little longer before raising his hand out to the audience, gently beckoning them to stop. Peter adjusted the microphone and begun to speak. As he did so the applause begun to die down. His voice boomed across the assembly.

“Greetings comrades! … I thank you for your sincere adulations. I thank each and every one of you for coming here to bask in the glory of this historic day. Today is a great day for us all, a great day for our beautiful nation of Russia. It is a new dawn in her long and rich history where she shall reach the potential that lies within. Prosperity awaits us, recognition for who she shall become. Yet it will take all the strength, all the courage and all the conviction of each and every one of you. Every man, woman and child has a part to play in this grand theatre, so to speak. From the mightiest of the captains of industry, down to the humblest of farmers and factory workers, each has their duty to serve mother Russia, to lead her on to her destiny”

“It is a destiny that has long eluded her, due to the gross crimes that the so called Tsars committed under the guise of leadership. They raped the wealth of the country and greedily consumed it for their own end. They allowed her people to starve and suffer through the deadly winters. They were cowards interested in serving their own ends and not that of Russia. As we speak, Tsar Nicolas is under protective custody and his supporters and sympathizers are been rounded up to face justice and be dealt with the full force of the law so they may be punished for their crimes”

“The world has looked upon us as mere a mere ‘basket case’ as Russia teetered on the brink of collapse. No longer will this be the case! For too long now has Russia turned the other cheek to the insults of others. As we speak, our fine marines are engaged in Greece, having captured Athens and are now pushing forward as the Greeks fall back at every turn. This is the price they pay for their insolence, their defiance and their agreements with the Germans. As for the Germans, they will soon have the boot on the other foot, as it where. It may be many years ago, but even our oldest citizens still remember the horror that their Kaiser inflicted upon us with their weapons of mass destruction. Villages and towns lay in ruins, uninhabited except for stray dogs and rodents. However we are now beginning the clean up that the Tsars cared not to engage in. For the Germans shall soon be confronted and forced to pay for their atrocities. Our advisors are working closely with the Spanish so that they may supply us with missiles capable of inflicting grievous wounds upon the Teutonic warlords. With any luck, we shall be supplied with nuclear warheads resulting from their uranium enrichment scheme to cause even greater damage. Europe will become a level playing field from which we shall rise as its true visionary and end the tyrannical reign of Germany. Mother Russia shall rise!”


Upon finishing those words, the audience stood up and begun applauding again, even more strongly than before. It may have been a short speech, as far as inauguration speeches went, but it the desired effect of arousing nationalistic fervor in the new communist state of Russia. Egorov stood at the podium with his hands raised and clasped above his head and was pumping them in the air, lapping up the adulation. He stood down from the podium and begun making his way amongst the delegates, smiling, shaking hands and thanking them for their unwavering support. Egorov and his communist forces had been fighting the Tsars for eight years. It first begun in parliament though Tsar Nicolas II moved to crush support and criticism of his rule and begun rounding up as many communist sympathizers as possible, including Egorov. Egorov managed a miraculous escape from incarceration and went into hiding, where he begun forging shady contacts that were able to supply him with weapons and before long, more supporters begun joining his army and the war begun. Utilizing hit and run tactics and avoiding pitched battles were possible, Egorov inflicted defeats upon an army that was badly demoralized despite having superior numbers and weaponry. A major turning point in the war was the capture of a strategic military post in central Russia, where Egorov was able to gain a substantial foothold in his war against the ruling government. The situation was critical for Nicolas and sensing that his position had become untenable, he attempted to flee Moscow, only to be stopped by an angry mob that had recognized him and his entourage. The mob inflicted a savage beating upon Nicolas before turning him over to Egorov’s Red Guards who were closing in on the capital. When news spread of the Tsar’s capture and the collapse of his despotic rule, recriminations begun as anyone suspecting of been a collaborator with the Tsarist government were rounded up, imprisoned or in a lot of cases, killed. A century of rule by the Tsars was over, with much blood shed. The average citizenry were delighted to have shed the chains of their oppressors and believed that their worries were over. However, the Communists then begun taking control. Taking control over everything. Everything that was once run by businesses now became the property of the state. Anything that could be bought or sold was controlled by unseen forces. Construction, mining, shipping, the press…it was now under the control of Moscow. It could not be that bad surely for those who suffered under the Tsars…surely not.
 
Captain Thomas McAllister scurried behind his entrenched men, taking a good look at each of them. He implored them dig deeper into their dwindling reserves of energy, to keep fighting against the odds. McAllister shouted and screamed over the racket of machine guns, mortars, rockets and heavy guns. McAllister told them to do it for the men next to each other, for their unit, for themselves. The only thing he did not tell them was that there was no hope. Each and every man were about to be sacrificed by the high command residing snugly in their command offices back in England. McAllister’s heart was breaking at the prospect that the men of K Company would wind up as prisoners of war. Most would wind up dead on these fields, their families never having the chance to bury their loved ones whose bodies would be interred in the beautiful country side. Large pine trees had offered some protection to the British troops from irregular gunfire from the pursuing Germans. The English had been on the run for several weeks, flitting through the mountains and wooded expanses at the foothills of the Alps. Now they had nowhere to run; the Germans hemmed them in from the south and from the east. To the west, there was nowhere to go, the terrain was too inhospitable for hundreds of men to safely retreat. It was going to be an ignoble end for the elite members of the Royal British Marines.

Those pine trees had gradually given way to nothing more than splintered stumps when the heavy guns begun a deafening crescendo of fire and raked the terrain without mercy. Trees exploded into deadly projectiles of splinters, causing hell for the besieged. The machine gun fire now roared unabated. The British machine guns spat back angrily, defiantly, in the face of overwhelming firepower. The heavy machine guns fired judiciously due to low supplies. They had no mortars left, only grenades. McAllister howled instructions down the receiver of his comms man, when a platoon sergeant dived at the feet of the captain, bullets tracing a line were the man had run. “Sir, this is really, really crap! When is the re-enforcements arriving?” the sergeant hollered over the racket. McAllister bit his lip and didn’t look at the sergeant, who must have been no more than twenty-two. “Sergeant, there are no re-enforcements”

“What…are you for real sir?”

“High command said that a relief force would be impossible, which I half expected anyway. They’d have to fight their way through the Aegean, through the Dardanelle’s towards Romania. The force would be blown to pieces, the German have air superiority all through there. We are not going home”

“Sir…we have to get out somehow!"

“Dammit sergeant…” McAllister took a deep breath, “we are hemmed in, there is no where else to run. We are either going to die here or be captured. Don’t tell anyone what I’ve just told you god dammit, that’s an order! Now get back to position and hold those Jerry bastards back” Just how long they would hold them off was unknown, for McAllister grimly awaited the arrival the Leopards to finish the job. With some satisfaction, peering through his binoculars, he could see the lifeless forms of German infantryman, stopped dead in their tracks. Even in this age of high tech rocketry, air bombardments and elite commando forces, old fashion slogging matches between two opposing armies were commonplace. ‘Grunts’ going hard at it trying to outmanoeuvre one another, pumping thousands and thousands of rounds into each other in bloody engagements. The horrors that were World War 1 and World War 2 were still been played out today. McAllister listened to reports coming from other sectors were his compatriots were positioned attempting to thwart another German assault via his headset. A Company were about to be overrun and it seemed that there would be no mercy from angry German troops.

“…Christ, their coming over the outer perimeter…Over there, swing the gun around damn you!”

“****ing Jerry’s…they’re everywhere…Marshall, over here now!”

“horsehocky, Jones and Davidson are down! We can’t hold them!”

In a swift sickening move, the Germans had swept upon A Company’s position and hand-to-hand fighting ensued. Bayonets and combat knives stabbed and slashed, weapons were fired point blank; the butts of the machine guns were swung at the heads of soldiers, as were fists, boots and whatever object came to hand. A Company collapsed under the sustained onslaught as the Germans attempted to get a foothold. McAllister had little left in him, yet he ordered a handful of men to his left who utilised rocky outcrops as cover and begun pumping what little ammunition they had left into the exposed German’s. A young Scottish private, Callum Ferguson, gave the German’s a viscous spray from his machine gun… “Burn in hell you bastards!” he spat angrily. His weapon stopped firing as his clip went dry. “F**k me…I need another clip!” Ferguson had none left on him. Another soldier was in the process of throwing him another when his chest erupted in a torrent of blood and he fell forward onto the embankment and slid down it. Several more British soldiers went the way of Ferguson, as other men turned around and noticed to their utter horror that they had been outflanked and coming from behind, firing with precision, where German Marines. McAllister’s headset filled with frantic chatter as he realised what was happening. “Sir! We are been hit from behind, they’ve inserted troops from behind. I have no idea how they managed but they are shooting us to f*****g pieces!” McAllister slammed his fist onto the mound before him. “horsehocky, ****, ****!” He turned to his non-coms beside him. They all looked at him expectantly, hoping that McAllister would produce a miracle. Sadly for them he could not deliver one. “The games up gentleman…we have been outflanked. There is no point in fighting on…we are just going to get us all killed. At least we have a chance as P.O.W’s” McAllister said that with a grimace. A proud, stubborn, determined officer, the thought of laying down arms and handing themselves into the enemy ripped him apart inside but he thought of it as the only way to save the lives of those under his command. They had fought for as long as they could but the weight of the German army, with the homeland and its barracks and armaments ready to push forward new instruments of war, was crushing them. As P.O.W’s of Germany, the men stood a chance to once again see home, to see their loved ones. The thoughts of life as prisoners did not show on the faces of the men around him. Perhaps they just wanted to get out of this in one piece.

McAllister immediately begun to order his men to halt fire and place down their weapons. The British intentions were put across to the German troops. The crescendo of fire begun to die down as other companies followed suit. McAllister could hear angry shouts coming from all sides; mostly those of seriously p*ssed off German grunts none too happy with their comrades having been shot to pieces by the British. There was a deep mistrust between German and British that stretched back years. McAllister had no idea how the Germans were going to react. The Scotsman feared that there would be some trigger happy Germans all too happy to waste a whole lot of Brits irregardless of what their superiors ordered. The last time he had looked down on the fields below of his position he saw scores of dead German soldiers.

Several British troops did not react kindly to the orders to surrender. As they were approached by Germans shouting at them they fired back, only to be blown away by a hail of bullets. The situation looked as if it would spiral into a massacre. Rumours abounded of atrocities committed by German soldiers, particularly during the Serbian War and the invasion of Austria/Hungary. British non-coms attempted to placate the angry Germans. Germans begun to call out in English. “Do not attempt to resist. Come out now with your hands clearly where they can be seen. Do not try anything stupid. The fate of your comrades just then should be ample warning…there are some seriously frayed nerves. Just come down quietly. Lets not make this any more difficult for you than it already is” It was clear to McAllister what those last few words implied. Do something stupid and you can all expect to be shot. McAllister made his way down the slope after having removed his Browning pistol, hands above his head. The average soldier who surrendered was roughly manhandled, insults heaped upon them and were shoved towards the German rear, to be bundled into transports and then processed. McAllister found himself taken away to the German command post, along with other officers, his and their part in this brutal war thankfully over. The only thing he could hope for now was that the Germans would live up to international prisoners of war conventions.
 
Two men in civilian clothes and seven men in combat attire disembarked down the ramp of a CH-47 Chinook helicopter. One of the soldiers gave a thumbs up signal to a technician standing inside the helicopter who returned the signal and upon communicating with the pilots, the ramp begun to close. The men moved at a trot across the grass, crunching under foot due to the forming of frost, as the heavy lift helicopter begun to take off. They moved towards a man standing alone by a large tree, which had an eerie quality as the sun disappeared over the horizon. He was dressed himself in clean fatigues, as opposed to the grimy and tattered uniform he had sported a couple of days ago. One of the men in civilian clothes, wearing jeans, white button up shirt with collar with a I.D card clipped to his pocket and ordinary runners moved towards the solitary figure. “Major Frank Lopez?”

Lopez nodded in the affirmative. “That’s me pal”. The two shook hands. “I am Gerrard De Lorme, this” gesturing to the man on his left “is my colleague Dominic Molyneux. We are from the French battlefield reconnaissance organization. I will introduce the troopers when we get out of this goddamned cold” Lopez shook both of the men’s hands and cast a quick glance over the troopers, who he could just distinguish facial features in the gloom. “Typical f*cking spooks” joked Lopez, looking over the two intelligence officer’s attires, which were more suited to balmy spring days than the biting cold of late autumn in Marseille. “Best idea I’ve heard in a long time…” He beckoned the nine men to follow him towards the brightly light administration area, illuminated constantly by generators whose rumbling engines replaced the thumping of helicopter blades. The odd officer moved between buildings, whilst the rest of the men had melted away to their sleeping quarters.

Heavily armed base defense guards patrolled the grounds, as opposed to the ordinary military police. These defense guards were armed with FAMAS 5.56 mm assault rifles, a popular weapon amongst the infantry and Special Forces affectionately nicknamed as the Le Clairon (The Bugle) capable of firing 950 rounds a minute. Their FAMAS rifle, with single safety and automatic fire rates, was integrated with the FALIN, France’s infantry combat system designed thirty years ago. FALIN, (Fantassin à Équipement et Liaisons Integrées) containins advanced communication systems via portable electronic platforms, which the FALIN centres around. The trooper is able to maintain excellent communications with squad leaders and other members. It has a portable power supply maintained by batteries that can easily be recharged via mains power supplies.

The soldiers helmets optimises protection from ballistics and has a protective face sheild guarding the wearer against the elements as well as containing ear protection against gunfire and explosions. The helmet set up also contains NBC (nuclear, bilogical and chemical) protection which can be maintained via a filter or the systems ventialtion pack carried by the user. The comms system headset is fitted to the helmet and is a clever piece of technology which operates on a bone conduction transducer (vibrations). On top of this is the optronics system which allows images and data to be displayed to the user fed from the set up mounted on the assault rifle or the camera mounted on the helmet, via a display unit which can easily be folded out of the way when not used. None of Lopez’s men used the FALIN in Marseille but he was familiar with its operation and had himself been trained in its usage. France military officials would have liked to equip all of its soldiers with the FALIN but due to the cost involved in fitting out its 65,000 plus soldiers meant they could only use it sparingly. With the recent cash injection and an unexpected upsurge in the economy, the defense department begun to fit out its special forces with it. France was the first nation in Europe to develop the infantry combat system prior to the devastating nuclear attacks and its wars with Spain, closley followed by the Germans. These commandos following Lopez had been fully kitted out. In fact they looked as if they were ready to unleash hell on the Spanish. They all follwed Lopez who moved quickly with out saying anything.

They all filed into the principals office that Lopez had used for the link up with Field Marshall Fache. As Lopez turned around he recognised one of the soldiers. It was Roger, his Luitenant under him from the defense of Marseille. The veteran spoke first. “Major, it is good to see you again. I hear you had a good time of it with the Germans. Must have felt nice to be on the arse kicking side for a change” Lopez broke it in a broad grin. “Rodger, good to see you too…yeh, we showed those bastards. Pity you didn’t see those British sons of *****es been blown back into the ocean. Priceless” Gerard De Lorme looked up as he begun place maps and documents on a conference table. “Well, there is one introduction I don’t need to make. Major…” De Lorme begun motioning to each of the soldiers who stood in a half circle, “Specialists Laroche and Foulon and Troopers Denore, Peron, Duperry, Morel.” Lopez liked the look of those who stood before him, the commandos exuding professionalism. They looked as if they had been taken out of the SAS, what with their scruffy beards and mop tops. Lopez shook each of the soldiers hands and had his crushed in return.

“I had no idea you were Special Forces Rodger” commented Lopez. “Well, I was a part of the 13ème RDP (Special Forces Recon Regiment) before the department scrapped the regiment…cost cutting as you would be aware off, before this war” Lopez nodded, knowing too well the limitations he had faced since joining the Armee de Terre. “Jeez, you havent got much longer now…you could be off living the quite life with Aimee in Chartres. Spending some time with the family and all that” Rodger offered a shrug in return “What can I say…I am just your run of the mill sucker…I received outstanding pay then a call went out for volunteers for the 1st Marine Parachustist Regiment. Just couldn’t resist…oh, I almost forget, the thought of having to be in the same house as my mother in law didn’t sit well with me” Lopez smiled, clasping his hand on Rodgers shoulder “Of all the people to work with, Im glad your on my side” De Lorme straightened up over the piles of documents and maps and slapped his hand enthusiastically on the table. “Right…lets get on with it, its starting to get late” De Lorme loomed over the enlarged map of Clermont Ferrand, which went into detail on all the landmarks and had contour lines outlining the regions topography. “For those not in the know, excluding myself, Molyneux and Lopez, its our job to go into the uranium mine and blow it back into the stone age. French command have dictated that if we are to strike a blow against the Spanish, our best chances lie within special ops style retaliation”.

“This means we must get a unit inside the facility, place the explosives, get out without been compromised and then turn it into a sh*t storm. As far as operations go, this one is relatively straight forward…” Lopez looked up from the maps on the table and interrupted De Lormes’ breifing, “When someone says that a mission is ‘straight forward’ then something is bound to f**k up biblical style” De Lorme nodded slightly. “Fair call Major…I never pretend that anything is easy but in this case we have a high chance of success due to mitigating factors. We currently have a close reconnaisance team operating around the mine, providing us as much detail as they can from outside. Rather suprisingly the processing facilities are not heavily guarded, the Portugese commandos who secured the facility aside. Given that there are units from the 19th Airborne Service of the 1st Sturmgruppen, its unusual that the facility is not more heavily guarded. That’s their loss however. The main security centres around the main enterance point which is the security centre, power generation and the loading facility. Through out the mine itself there are points particularly on disused waste ore dumps that troops have been posted and these have a good veiw of the surrounding area. They are regular army joes who drew the short straw. Poor dears ” As if Molyneux read De Lormes mind, he produced a sattelite image of the uranium mine. Everything could be seen in great detail from the eye in the sky. De Lorme begun pointing out the entrance points. “Here is the security gatehouse, where all live camera feeds are watched and any security details dispatched, which is attached to the mines emergency response team. This is where I think that the Spanish command have set up shop. There are two other ways of entering, via unsealed roads but our ground reccie teams point out that they have been blocked, rendered innaccessible and guarded. So you will be going in the front door”

“Right. Front door” repeated Lopez. “Whats our ticket in? I don’t think they are going to be letting us through in full kit. Rather difficult I would imagine to slink around the shadows undetected” De Lorme explained. “Of course not Major. That would get you all killed. Due to some clever work from our field ops, we have found out in some detail the maintenance going on inside the mine and just who is supposed to fix it. Don’t ask me how, they just did it. Major works need to be carried out in the ball mill, something related to cracked drive shafts. For the Spanish, if they cant crush the ore then the product cant be thickened and then put throught the leach tanks and so forth. So they are hamstrung as we speak. Mind you production of the ore from the pit is continuing and they do have a small stockpile of previously crushed ore that they have been feeding into the processing stage though that is not your concern. Blowing the mill to pieces is. It’s the best plan we have to really hurt the Spaniards and their nuclear program. Replacing a ball mill will take some time, its damn expensive and the material needed and labour is in short supply and its our hope is that we can then convince the Germans, after war has been commenced, to send in their bombers and **** them up big time. Really get them to finish it off”

“Who is this company that’s scheduled for the repairs?” queried Rodger.

“It’s a firm by the name of Industrial Strength Engineering” explained Molyneux, speaking for the first time. “They are a mining consortium out of Barcelona been sent up especially for the job as their own army engineers don’t have the necessary parts and tools or experience to do this”

“So when do we expect them in the country and at the mine?” This from Lopez. “They are currently inside France and will be at the mine within a couple of days” De Lorme took over. “Its quite obvious gentleman that you will be going in under the guise of ISE as its engineers. That means you will have to…hijack…them enroute before they reach the mine. Well, I don’t mean stepping out on the road and putting a gun to their head. The easiest way to do this would be another level of subterfuge. Under the disguise as a Spanish patrol, you will flag down the convoy at a selected location. This is an old French depot which the Spaniards have ignored and have not taken it over. Here you will make out to be performing ‘routine’ vehicle checks as your men disable the drivers”

Lopez nodded. “What about the drivers? What do we do with them?” De Lorme looked the Major squarely in the eye for a moment. “Well…that is a difficult one. After all they are just engineers for a civilian firm and don’t really deserve to die but I will leave that choice up to you and your men as the situation dictates. There are consequences either way. From here you will load your gear into the trucks, mostly your explosives which will be disguised within tools and parts for the job which will arive here in the morning, don uniforms that you will be provided with and take their security passes and commandeer their vehicles”

“Those security passes, do they make a habit of checking photos against their owners?” asked Lopez. Molyneux shrugged. “Sorry Major, that we cant tell. As far as we know the main way of entering is via a swipe card setup where the card holder waves the pass across a scanner and then the boom gates lift if validated. Security is rather strict at the main enterance but I cant say if its full on Fort Knox style”

“Perhaps it would be in our best interest if we make a minor adjustment to the passes, like having photos that we could impose onto the cards. I think all access cards have photo ID on it just like ours. Just to play it safe If I may say so” offered Specialist Laroche. Lopez nodded in agreement as did the rest of the men. “Good point. Can you organise something like that De Lorme” De Lorme seemed ok on it. “I am sure I can rustle something up at short notice” De Lorme rubbed his eyes, trying to rub away the fatigue that was setting in. The time on the wall clock pointed to 11.45 pm. “There will be enough C4 to adequatley vapourise the mill and anyone in and around it. As far as arms go, you will have your H&K silenced pistols plus your MP5 automatics though I must stress that the use of your weapons must be avoided if you can. If you were to be compromised, you must get out whatever way you can. I sincerely hope that does not happen as a great big bag of sh*t would hit the fan and that will not do. I apologise if this is all going to seem rushed, but I suggest you begin planning from the moment you take command of the vehicles, your enterance and possible escape routes, the placement of explosives and so on. There is not much time until you will be airlifted and inserted as close to the site as possible. Molyneux and myself have other issues to sort out, if you need us we will be down the hall. Good luck” Both men turned away from the commandos and exited the room, watched closely by Lopez and the men. Lopez turned his attention from the spooks back to those in the room. “Ok…we need to think of everything that may crop up outside normal mission parameters, their consequences and our methods to deal with them. Like he said, there is little time…which makes it more likely that we could overlook certain situations but we gotta be dilligent here ok?” There was no detectable traces of aprehension or concern as far as Lopez could make out, the burly American more than satisfied with those standing before him… “All right, lets get cracking”
 
I just read this. its pretty good. If you want to do a war seen through the eyes of a soldier, i'd recommend that you do it in the first person. Its a little more easy. Why? I don't know.
 
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