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The Rise of Germany

A flatbed truck with a canopy over the tray zoomed past as fast as its cargo would allow it. Then came another, quickly followed by several more. A man with a shovel moved closer towards the fence along the highway to get a better look and noticed a long procession of transport trucks roar down the highway on a north bound route. Jeeps accompanied the convoy and heavy haulage rigs thundered down the highway. Some flatbeds had large objects covered by tarpaulins. The man stood there nonchalantly, leaning on his long handled shovel casually eying off the convoy through sunglasses. He could make out in the back of the trucks heavily armed soldiers, elite soldiers of the 21st Madrid Regiment. As the first convoy passed by, the man casually pretended to dig a trench.

Minutes later, semi trailers again thundered down the highway. Heavy-laden transport trucks carrying the unmistakable silhouettes under cover of heavy artillery. The tan and army green transport rigs passed by one after the other, escorted by Humvees, their mounted turrets loaded with ammunition, ready to fire. This was serious business .The lone man forced the shovel into the ground once the second convoy passed and headed towards his utility. He picked up his GlobeSat phone and punched a number and begun speaking into it. Only seconds later he closed the connection and started his vehicle. More convoys were expected but he had seen what he had been asked to watch. An aggressive Spanish force moving towards war.
 
Gravel crunched under puncture proof tires as three black SUV’s flew down a lengthy driveway. Stately plane trees flanked each side of the driveway, forming a sort of vanguard for the vehicles. Beyond the shady avenue, green fields stretched as far as the eye could see on the undulating plains. Copses of birch seemed to push through the green blanket, creating a stunning view framed by age-old mountains.

A pair of beady blue eyes stared straight through the post card views as if he could see beyond the ranges. His cold mechanical mind had no capacity for beauty. Thoughts of murder, treachery, mayhem, burning revenge, lust for power and obscene wealth polluted his evil mind. Traveling in the vehicle with him were men who looked to be chiseled from granite. They carried with them weaponry that was more than enough to start a revolution. The bodyguards were all armed with high tech Steyr automatic weapons who’s microchip configuration allowed them to spew forth bullets in an unstoppable barrage, Desert Eagle handguns with a stopping power unrivaled, combat knives, frag and phosphorous grenade, RPG’s, tank killers and assorted explosives. These hard as nails men had the benefit of on board computers inside their fortress on wheels which allowed them to pinpoint each others movements to with in centimeters by GPS, whether it by vehicle or those in the field. The vehicles themselves, German made, could sustain automatic weapons fire due to the specially strengthened body and the windows had more than one layer of glass impregnable to all but a direct tank shell hit.

The thoughts of the man staring into nothing were broken as they came towards a checkpoint. His vehicle was the lead and a man in military attire, with weapon on his shoulder came over and peered into the car. He spoke quickly into his headset and waited for a response. Satisfied, he waved the convoy through. The convoy came up to a sprawling palatial compound. It was truly staggering in its size and construction. The architects who designed it obviously had a thing for the building styles of the classical age. Massive Corinthian columns were set into the marbled entrance which had a cobbled stone driveway in a circular fashion that allowed vehicles to pull up to the front. Topiary gardens gave the scene a formal highlight with a large statue in the middle. Instead of it representing an absurdly unrealistic portrayal of Greek individual or a triumphant Roman leader, it was a statue of Rodrigo Diaz, or El Cid Campeador astride his horse. The only thing that dragged a visitor back from a time warp was suited men with automatic weapons flanking the ornate entrance and the guards who greeted the visitors at the steps and checked the passengers and vehicles over.

One man, rather short in stature, made his way down the stairs and waited for the quests to exit their vehicles. The armed guards who escorted the visitors remained in the vehicles and were told to drive them around to the back of the compound were they could wait. The first man waited for two others to catch up before they followed their guide. He did not speak as he lead through lavishly decorated passageways adorned with paintings and sculptures that the lead guest surmised were not entirely legally purchased. He admired them, not for their exquisite nature but for the massive sums they would fetch on the black market. It was deathly quiet inside, aside from the sounds of shoes on the marbled floor.

They came up to a large double oak door with two men standing sentry outside. A quick exchange between the guide and guards and they passed through. Inside was a large chamber complete with more breathtaking architecture. A simple square oak table, an oversized coffee table at that, sat square in the middle of the room on a Persian rug that took up most of the room. Around the tables were four large vacant leather chairs.

“Please, take a seat. His worship shall be with you shortly” said the short man, gesturing to the chairs. He silently left the room. One of the men spoke up. “His worship? I knew he was egotistical but this is crazy!” The rotund man with the blue eyes smirked. “Egotistical yes, and deluded to thinking he is some sort of demi-god. He is also extravagant as well”. He motioned around the room at the artwork. “Extravagant is wildly understating things don’t you think?”

Their banter halted when to their utter amazement a bookcase began to swing open. It completed a full circle and standing on the new bookcase was a slender man dressed in simple black suit with a white-buttoned shirt complete with a stock standard tie. He sported a most ludicrous handle bar moustache “Now I have seen everything” said the first man under his breath. He made his way to the unoccupied chair and sat down. “Welcome to Spain gentlemen, I am King Alphonso. I trust the security did not unnerve you on your trip here?” His smile had no warmth. It was like an Arctic storm had roared through the room.

“The security did not concern me” stated the rotund man flatly.

“No of course it did not, Doctor Himmler. A man in your…predicament… would surround himself with a high degree of caution. All the same, I am grateful for you coming here. The same to your Mr. Klopp, Mr. Guiderian” The two other men nodded in return. “We are pleased to be of service…for the right price of course” said Heinz Guderian.

“Of course. Our agreed price is 40 million Euros”

“It was when we last spoke Alphonso. Now, due to unforeseen problems, we must now ask for 80 million euros. Problems beyond our control have surfaced” pointed out Himmler.

Alphonso’s expression remained blank but his eyes raged. “What circumstances would require a doubling of your fee?”

“Problems that relate to our visits that we shall keep to ourselves. Prime Minister, I do not think an extra 40 million euros from your pocket is going to hurt you. After all…this place must be worth hundreds upon hundreds of million euros”

“Be careful doctor with what you say. Do not try my patience. Be grateful that your services were required and you saved yourself a very high profile arrest” he scowled. “I am in no position currently to find myself a new scientist” said Alphonso, eyes blazing a swath through Himmler, who returned his gaze with equal fury “so I shall negotiate your ‘demands’. I will be pleased to settle on 60 million Euros. End of matter” He folded his arms in a show of defiance to emphasize his point.

Himmler turned to Klopp and merely looked at each other. Staring at Alphonso momentarily, he accepted the Spanish king’s offer. “Very well then, it is 60 million Euros. Please accept our apologies for the sudden inconvenience of our…rash demands” Himmler lied, not one to back down from anyone. He hoped to play around with Alphonso’s mind. Himmler hoped to lure the Spaniard into a deadly false sense of security.

“Apologies accepted” said Alphonso without a hint of geniality. “Now doctor, as the war against France is just beginning, your role will be played in several days. I will have you sent with a special detachment to your work. I will have people brief you later. Mr. Klopp, Mar Guderian, you shall be joining the Portuguese commandoes to help secure our main objective. Debriefing will follow. In the meantime, please make yourselves at home. There is everything here you can ask for” Alphonso got up and nodded at the men. “I have matters of national importance to take care of”
 
The invasion of England begins but with disastrous consequences



A heavy air of resignation hung over those in the military command center in Berlin. Those in the room, Minister for War Gunther Von Spee, Supreme Commander Wilhelm Kordes, Admiral of the Northern Fleet Stephen Icke, Bundeswehr Intelligence Office chief Major General Wolfgang Schroeder, Prime Minister Wilhelm, Air Commodore Peter Flick and a collection of military analysts had to come to terms with a terrible truth. They had been forced to admit defeat in their invasion of Great Brittian. Not since William the Conqueror in 1066 landed in England from Normandy had a foreign army successfully invaded. France in the 1300’s tried to and Napoleon in 1803 then Germany under Adolph Hitler in 1940. It was a terrible miscalculation that cost the Germans an entire fleet and several thousand Germans. Intelligence appeared to have miscalculated the strength of the British submarine fleet based out of Scapa Flow. At first the British raids provided nuisance value before the culmination of a mighty under sea battle between German and English subs. The British fleet were free to wreak havoc on the Germans after that as German naval vessels put up a brave but futile resistance.

Now came the harshest truth. Two German armies of marines, heavy guns and armoured support had disembarked relatively unopposed north of Scapa. Eight divisions made their way inland as German bombers blasted anything British that it could find. Shockingly for the ground troops they tapered off as the armada came under attack. With the decimation complete, the ground troops were now without air or sea cover. Their LCT’s were sunk as well so they were officially stranded. They were stuck with limited supplies of ammunition and rations which could be expended in a matter of days if the British launched a counter offensive. General Montgomery may well have been right in saying the Germans would never see home again.

The Prime Minister looked through the campaign map showing the sites of the wrecked fleet and the stranded German armies. “How could this happen? He demanded. No on appeared ready to answer this simple but poignant question. Gunther Von Spee spoke up first. “It appears to me sir that adequate resources had not been assigned to the invasion fleet. The British seemed to be well aware and prepared of what our fleet represented and obviously moved to counter it via ocean warfare methods. This we did not respond to and the invasion may well have been to hastily proceeded with”

“My warnings went unheeded” stated Admiral Icke suddenly. “The British are the best exponents of naval warfare and we failed to properly counter that. Our agents were taken too soon from their jobs. Now several thousand young German men and women lie at the bottom of the North Sea. Thousands are trapped in Scotland. Unforgivable” His face was one of anguish. Icke had carefully built up the navy since the conquest of Holland had allowed for an expansion in shipbuilding. He oversaw a restructure in the way the Navy thought and operated and was proud of his small but deadly force. Now fifty percent of it lay at the bottom of the sea.

Air Commodore Flick was also very unhappy, having lost several billion dollars in expensive aircraft. “I agree with the Admiral fully. There was totally unacceptable coverage for the force. Billions of dollars in hardware is gone and it will take months and months to re-organize this and to recruit the lost men”

“Lets not make this a blaming session gentlemen” said Wilhelm as firmly as he could despite the stress of the situation. “Let us work out what is to be done with our men in Scotland and what option we have at hand in the war against England. Its clear, I am sure, that a new direction is required. What can we do about the trapped soldiers?”

Wilhelm Kordes, as blunt as ever, put for the position his team of analysts had formulated. “There is two choices. They can blast their way into Scapa Flow, establish an airbase and capture the docks. The second is to go on the defensive and die” Those in the room sat quietly and imagined the consequences of the British annihilating the invaders or capturing them. “My aide Helmut will provide details”

Helmut was Wilhelms Chief of Staff with in the army. He cleared is throat. “Okay gentleman, the situation is not good which ever way you look at it. We cannot honestly predict how long they could hold out until a relief force is sent, if that’s at all possible, as it depends on British attacks. We cannot provide any more air cover as our bases in Norway and Holland cannot provide sufficient range in bombing attack.”

“Offensive maneuvers will be inheritably risky as supplies can easily run out of resistance is still. Street by street warfare would inflict heavy casualties on our side. There is one point that can play into our favour though. It depends on the garrison”

“You mean whether it is British or Scottish” asked Gunther Von Spee who was always on the ball.

“Exactly. The Scots have no great love of their English rules. If the Scots are entrusted with the defense of their city then our job will be much easier. More than likely they will not put up much resistance. In fact their may well be open mutiny if they realize British rule is threatened. Having the Scottish on our side would be a good thing. Their men are as hard as nails”

“Of course” exclaimed Wilhelm, shaking off the shackles of tiredness, unusually animated. “There has been several unsuccessful attempts to break way and reform the nation of Scotland”

“Yes sir. If we can use propaganda towards them then our job will be all the more easier. However, if the the troops are British then we can expect no quarter at all. After all there is a major naval installation so they may well have their better British troops"

“True, though mind you the British have a habit of forced service in its possessions, with locals drafted to provide defensive duties with British officers providing leadership”

“Correct sir” The Chief of Staff went on to explain. "You see gentleman, the British Empire is at a point in history were its power is waning. Rebellions have cropped up in Iraq, Syria, Israel, Crete and Southern Turkey. The British would be hard pressed to defend its frontiers if they are under attack”

“Correct me if I am wrong but are you suggesting a ‘diversional’ policy?” asked Von Spee who was now intrigued.

“If you wish to put it that way sir” nodded Helmut. “I admit, it will be difficult to predict the British respones to such a move, but they more than likely will have to divert forces to meet new threats. This could take off pressure on our trapped men. Capturing Imperial domains will also cut a great deal from their income making it more difficult to maintain arms and infrastructure. This could also great the problem of unrest in England if public services are not properly funded, causing demonstrations against the government. This could cause it to declare a ceasefire or cause a revolt”

“It may well be our only chance of saving our men” spoke Kordes. “It is the best analysis we have come up with. Attacks though would have to comprise of highly mobile, small forces”

“What do you say commander? What locations would be ideal to begin with?” asked the PM. “Id say southern Turkey then sweeping down the coast through the Holy Land. We have armour in central Turkey on stand by. Also we can clear out the English from the Greek Isles permanently”

Air Commodore Flick spoke up. “Don’t forget, there is the 11th Squadron in Holland who can launch attacks on southern England. Any production related installation can be wiped off the map. This is a highly specialized squardron who engage in precision bombing, not blanket attacks”

“Then it must be done immediately” ordered Kordes, his voice edged with steel. “Anything to put the heat on Asquith and his government”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Gunther Von Spee stood up and looked at the mounted electronic chart showing Scapa Flow and the surrounding sea. Coloured pin point lights indicated the trapped divisions. “Now we know what we are facing, the big question remains to be answered” He hung on his words for effect. Those who were talking amongst themselves silenced immediately.

Pointing at the armies location, he asked solemly. “Do we attack…or dig in and die?”
 
People looked at each other, not saying anything, as if each were looking for answers in the eyes of those in the room. It was a question who’s answer, if ultimately incorrect, could condemn thousands of Germans to an early grave or life as a POW. Von Spee's ice blue eyes looked at each man in the room, his gaze unwavering “Gentlemen, we must come to a decision soon. There must be no hesitation in our final verdict”

“I agree” said the PM. “However, a quick hasty decision is an unsafe one. We still have several hours in which to formulate a strategy”

“In any case, I believe we must capture Scapa and get an air base established to fly in supplies” Spee's mind was well and truly made up.

“Who is the ground commander?”

“General Kosche” replied Kordes. “Ex Sturmgruppen, he has seen active duty for the better part of 25 years in Russia, Austria, Turkey and Italy. He has risen through the ranks to his position. He has a sound strategic mind, particularly defensive ones. He no doubt will be forumulating means to keep his men safe at the moment”

“Fortunate for him that resistance has been light so far” this from Air Commodore Flick. The Chief of Staff interjected. “There are several British radar installations nearby, were the Brits have been launching nuisance raids. They can easily skirt these sites. The way into Scapa is fairly open. Not much chance to be caught out by a British manouver”

“All the more the reason for Kosche to attack. It will not take long for Scapa to be approached and assaulted. The longer we wait the more time for the Brits to close in!” lectured Spee.

“Gunther, let us hear from the other members here. You have made your point well known” chided the PM. For the next two hours tempers flared, accusations flew and ideas flowed. The decision however had been made. General Kosche was to attack.
 
Roland Meilland, the French Foreign Minister, sat in his darkened office in the small hours of the morning holding a blank envelope. Even in these days of high-tech communication, something’s remained the same. Meilland did not even see who had placed the envelope on his desk. It did not matter, for this parcel intrigued him. His desk was tidy despite the chaos that surrounded the French parliament. His PC cast a ghostly illumination as an internal email was displayed on the screen.

“Are you going to open it or just admire it?” queried a man who sat on the other side of the desk. He looked exhausted having not slept for two days. Meilland slit open the package with his mail knife, which looked antique in the modern surrounds of his office. He glared intently for sometime at the documents before saying, “Its from the Germans” The man leaned forward. “Who exactly sent this?”

“I cannot say as it is unsigned. Yet after the tough two days France has endured, it may just be the tonic for her”

“Just what do these Teutonic warmongers want?” wondered the man as he gestured for the documents.” Nothing it would seem sir” said Meilland, taking another look at the email on his screen. “It looks like they want to give us something” The bald man did not look up but his facial expression was one of bewilderment, then skepticism. “Offers to send military engineers? A large deposit of money? Defense applications? Just what is this?”

“Well, from what I read so far, they are offering help to re-establish our missile programme…” The man cut him off. “What? They are willing to put our systems back online?”

“Ah yes, so it seems. There is the Integrated Defense system. From my limited military knowledge, it would mean we would have some chance of thwarting nuclear assaults. There is also 200 million euros to be deposited to run the system and to also maintain our forces. I am unsure as to why we are receiving this Mr. President”.

The President grunted. “Bribery or there bouts, for their past wrongs against us. Arrange a call to Otto Schneider” He went to do this as a melodic tinkle came from his teleconference device on his desk. Meilland hit the transmission button and a crystal clear image appeared “Ah, no sooner did our esteemed President mention your name and you are calling us” said Meilland. Spee only smiled. “Did you receive my package?”

“The instigator of this unfathomable mystery. I have it right here Otto. Please explain all of this, no?” asked Meilland. “Very well, France stands on the brink of a crushing defeat by that madman Alphonso. You well know of your military capabilities or lack there of. You just lost Montpellier and infantry regiments are marching onto Toulouse as we speak and the war is but two days old. I took the liberty to see that Spain Portugal do not get their objectives”

Meilland bored into Spee’s image. “Objectives? What are they? Alphonso gave no reason for invading us. It does not make much sense as to…” Meilland paused mid sentence before uttering “The bastard!” Spee’s expression did not change. “I am bemused as to why your intelligence did not pick up why he attacked. It was quite obvious The Integrated Defense Systems should have also clicked when you read through the envelope. Alphonso had begun importing components for nuclear reactors from outside Europe. Here you have an existing uranium deposit, with equipment and all but no troops to defend it”

The President spun the monitor around to him “Just what do you want out of this Schneider? And where is Wilhelm? Should he not be telling us this?”

“The Prime Minister does not know of this” Meilland interrupted. “This is a risky move. You can be shot for treachery”

“Yes I know but when I do things, it is in the best interests of Germany. In any case, he does not want to act against Spain’s aggressive moves. Why this is so, i cannot say at this stage. His inaction could spell trouble for our African colonies” replied Spee.

“The man is a spineless jellyfish. He has no backbone” spat the President. “Even if you are not acting on orders from him, why should France accept Germany’s aid? Your cowardly nuclear strikes are still fresh in the memories of even our oldest citizens. Even some of the infrastructure is in ruins to this day and our children bear the legacy of radiation poisoning. We should have joined Russia in alliance”.

Schneider remained expressionless still “Why not? Because that is of a different era in German politics. Wilhelm was a puppet been pulled left and right by influential forces desperate for war to cash in on their interests. You also knew that corporate antagonists triggered the German-Russian war that triggered the nuclear war. As it stands you can be hurt badly by been forced under Spanish rule. Your lives would be forfeit”

Meilland turned to the President. “I accept Schneider’s claims. We are in no position to push back Spanish offensives. Nuclear weapons could be our only chance” Schneider interrupted “If you do move divisions to the Spanish border, you run the risk of exposing the Normandy coastline to the Spanish Navy. We even have reports on English activity across the channel. A cross channel invasion would spell doom for you. England is too strong”

The President asked “Just how do we believe you are genuine?”“Check your accounts. The 200 million euros will be recorded on the transaction report” replied Schneider. Meilland entered the system and searched. Sure enough a 200 million euro deposit was placed with the appropriate description tags. “It checks out Mr. President” said Meilland. The President sighed. “Very well then. How soon can you move then?” Schneider, “Immediately. Elite airborne commandoes can be airborne in three hours and have your mines secured by early morning. Our engineers can then chute in and begin consulting with your officials in laying transport and communication lines to the facility”

The President appeared reluctant to allow German troops on French soil. “Mr. President, I think its best to allow the Germans to secure and defend the mines whilst we refit our special forces” counseled Meilland. “So be it Otto. Make it happen. But I must ask you something. What happens if Wilhelm finds out?” Spee looked down momentarily. “I and those collaborating get executed and out tanks will occupy Paris”
 
Far below two approaching aircraft, battalions of infantry moved under the cover of darkness. Their destination was Clermont-Ferrand, long protected by rugged terrain from invaders. Yet little was in their way to stop the advancing army from capturing the city. A full half an hour from the city and no resistance had been encountered. Very few of the French resistance had escaped the invading Spaniards, mostly captured, some executed on the spot. Thirty minutes until their main objective of securing the uranium mines, then onto the aluminum supplies in the east. That was a different operation all together.

A giant of a man peered through night vision binoculars, scanning the surrounding terrain and consulting with his GPS display. He pulled down his sights and exposed an ugly face scarred by countless brawls and shrapnel wounds. A rifle butt had broken his nose in training years ago. His grey eyes had no life to them. “What’s the defense in the city?” he asked a subordinate in a guttural tone. “Sir, it appears the city has been re-enforced in the last few hours by rail, from whatever resistors were left from Toulouse. Some battalions were moved in by rail too. There appears to be no artillery batteries but there are some machine gun emplacements on the outskirts”

“Ok, we need to be wary on the approach, some parts of the countryside may hide French forces dug in to harass us but these can be overcome” said the Major. “On first light I want artillery to rake these positions” he said whilst pointing at varied points on the map “so they are blasted out of existence. Then once that is complete, move the 250 mm howitzers forward and begin wasting the city. The troops will move under this fire. There will be a two pronged assault, whilst commandoes will move in and secure the mines” The subordinate looked at the Major. “The 250’s? Is that not a little inhumane sir”?

The Major gave a shrug of indifference. “Whether civilians get buried in their homes or plastered across the street is of little concern. I want every heavy gun to blast that city back into the Iron age. Our main objective here is the mines Captain, nothing else matters”. His eyes bored into his officer. “Of course sir” The Major begun relating more detailed points on squad, company and battalion maneuvers when a radar operator approached. “Major Fernandez, we have an aircraft approaching from the North East. Its obviously a German transport”

“Military?” asked Fernandez. “Yes sir, its at three thousand meters and has begun a circling of Clermont Ferrand. It can’t be landing, as there is not one airstrip in the immediate countryside. It could well be making a drop of some sort”

“The uranium mines!”snarled Fernandez. “Either they are providing non military help to defend the mine or they want to snatch it from the French. The deadline must be brought forward!” Fernandez’ subordinate spoke “I shall order the batteries to commence firing and the commandoes to engage” Fernandez merely nodded. Five minutes later, the guns filled the morning air with mayhem, the continuous firing from the cannons sounding like rolling thunder. Fernandez answered the Captains question about possible contact with the Germans. “If it’s their special forces, avoid contact. There must be no exchange between them. Spain does not need war with the Germans…yet. It’s unlikely that the Germans will attack our team. They too will not want open war unless it can’t be avoided. A company will be in behind the commandos to provide additional defense”

Clermont-Ferrand felt the full weight of the large shells as buildings were smashed into chunks of concrete and glass into thousands of shards. A shell landed directly on top of the French forces HQ, killing hundreds in one terrible explosion. Gas stations ignited with violent fury, as the petroleum sparked and sent the underground tanks into shocking contortions, buckling the earth as the explosive fury blew upwards into the atmosphere. Any reinforced positions were vaporized from existence. Those in the city then waited for the inevitable… the occupation at the hands of Spain.
 
The sounds of combat boots echoed through out the brightly lit hallway. No words were spoken as a tall broad shouldered man quietly inspected laboratories, offices and messes. Occasionally he came across the bodies of dead French security guards killed by the Portuguese commandoes. They knew they were been watched by the German commandoes from a distance but they proceeded as per normal. It was a textbook operation. In fact it was so easy as to be almost like a joke. The French security force, a civilian company, were drawn to the sounds of the firing artillery only to be swiftly neutralized by the wraith like figures, clad in grey as to properly blend into the shadows.

Once inside the building each dormitory, office, mess room and lab was systematically swept clean, those occupants who ignored the commotion outside were cut down before they could plead for their life or reach for weapons. Flash grenades were tossed in every room, blinding those within before the commandoes surged inside, shooting dead those they came across with the minimal expenditure of ammunition. It quickly became a turkey shoot as those hearing the sudden explosions and firing of compact M5 sub machine guns tried to flee but had no chance. It was over in eight minutes; all that were inside were accounted for and more importantly dead.

He stepped over the slumped bodies, those that ran, as if they were mere objects on a footpath. Their blood stained the floors and walls. He and his party came to a large titanium strength door, reinforced, that was wide open with the ID key pads disabled. Stepping inside, Major Fernandez was confronted with an array of consoles and monitors in various stages of operation. Some displayed error messages, indicating corrupt or missing hardware components. A large window gave a birds eye view of ore processing facilities. Graded ore crushers were empty, conveyor belts were idle and over in the service pit large Haulpaks rested on industrial jacks missing their monstrous wheels and 2002 model Komatsu excavator crawlers no longer had their caterpillar tracks, they were arranged in long lines with welders half way through dismantling the plates with their oxy torches, melting the bolts into scrap. Massive floodlights lit up every object and building on the mine site, the harsh lighting creating an alien landscape. The odd mechanic wandered towards the abandoned machinery. This was were the ore was refined into weapons grade material. The burly Major was on hand to witness the efforts of the nuclear technicians in getting the plant online.

Fernandez strode towards a rather tubby man wearing glasses with a neat clipped moustache. He sensed someone approaching and turned around to face the person. The man snapped a stiff salute upon recognizing the man. “Ah, Dr Himmler, I did not expect you to be here so soon. The Germans could reach out and snatch you”

“My appearance Major, is vital to re-establishing the facility to working order” replied Himmler in a curt manner. “Besides, the Germans don’t even know my whereabouts, not yet at any rate, sadly for them”

“Yes of course, sadly indeed” said the Major, not caring why. “What is the projects official status?”

“We have encountered the usual problems with such an ageing facility. The software programs are obsolete and are not compatible to ours, security codes need to be overridden, though that is not hard, some vital components need replacing due to neglect. I suppose that is what happens when France scaled back its operations. No one cared to keep it in top condition, only posting those miserable specimens your men wiped out, to try and keep intruders out”

“I suspect they were only trained to stop run of the mill criminals, not heavily armed commandoes" A dirty smirk came across Fernandez's face "It is a pity about the neglect. You should have all necessary parts arrive with a day or two. I can have engineers try and repair the earthmoving equipment so that mining can begin. Is there enough stockpiled uranium ore to start processing?” asked the Major.

“No” Himmler replied bluntly “The problem is the low amount of the critical element within the ore. The uranium is still of an acceptable percentage, matching German supplies. It is not worth processing until more ore can be mined”

Fernandez looked away from Himmler before finishing “Very well Doctor. If there is any requests then channel them through to my office. Your budget is large enough for you and your team to work unencumbered. The King is expecting results soon”

Himmler snorted contemptuously. “He will get his results”. Fernandez ignored Himmler as he marched off back to his office to begin sifting through the inevitable barrage of paperwork. Bad news was soon to fall on his desk however.
 
This thread doesn't get the number of votes it deserves o_o.....

Koo story.
 
Frank Lopez could barely hear himself think. Roaring artillery pieces and exploding shells conspired against him. From his vantage point in the command post, he could see the incoming Spanish assault. The building was an old French mail sorting center, another French civilian department neglected, with its 2nd floor offices offering a broad view to the west of Marseille, the direction in which the Spanish were advancing from. Too many times shells had landed near the building, the concussion and flying debris shattering every window and showering its occupants with shards of glass and rubble. The mail room was a shambles. People ran about furiously to and from the building, running the gauntlet of increasingly accurate fire. Bodies lay outside, bodies of those who did not make it.

“Sir, the Spaniards have broken through the outer perimeter of the city center. I don’t know how much longer we can hold the western sector” reported a private who tried to fight off exhaustion from his mad dash from the frontline to safety. Damn! This is getting worse by the minute! Thought Lopez, becoming increasingly frustrated with the Spaniards seemingly endless supply of men and shells. “Hang on a minute kid” replied the American. He lifted his binoculars and looked from his window, crouched down to avoid been hit. The high-powered glasses revealed Spanish troops moving along streets from building to building. Some took the time to properly check out the layout of the back streets and alley ways for snipers and traps before pressing on. Others kicked in doors and surged through to clean out French forces. Some fell dead to sporadic fire but in general the Spaniards were well in control. Lopez made his decision.

“Get everyone out and back towards the city center. Get the demo boys to rig a few nasty surprises. If we can’t push them back then lets at least bloody their friggin noses. Also have everyone ready in case a general evacuation is needed”There was no ‘in case’; an evacuation was going to be needed. He looked back and saw that artillery fire had ruined the city. The old city, once a settlement in ancient Greek times was been ruined by a senseless war of conquest. In the last fifty years, senseless wars had never been far away.

The minutes passed like insufferable hours. The situation only got worse as French casualties mounted with the better equipped Spanish troops pressing on in the face of determined but ultimately futile defense. France had only a few artillery pieces but they had stopped firing long ago and their barrels had gone cold. Their shells had been depleted and their forward observers nowhere to be seen. “My kingdom for a nuclear weapon to drop on those bastards” muttered Lopez angrily. From behind him approached a man covered in mud. A thick line of blood was caked onto his forehead.

“Our kingdom seems to be rapidly dissolving” commented the man. Lopez spun around. “Rodger, you look like you have gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson and gone back for more”joked Lopez. “Yes, only Tyson is armed with machine guns, grenades and mortars” Rodger wiped the grime from his face on his sleeve. Rodger was a long time Luitenant with in the French forces, 59 now and nearly getting to the point of retirement. In this dire situation it was in doubt whether he would make it to that and in any case, his post army days would be bleak as pay outs were non existent. Pay currently was sporadic and Rodger still held on for if he quit, he and his wife would be utterly ruined.

Lopez himself was a Captain within the Rangers in the US Army ten years ago. He got out and became a freelance operator to whoever paid the biggest fees. He provided technical assistance and helped with development of tactics and made himself a small fortune. He stopped short at assassination. That was not his thing.

“Who you got running things down there?”

“Remy, he can more than handle things down there. I came back to give you a report on the situation but I am sure you don’t need me to tell you that we are, as you Americans say, ‘up sh*t creek without a paddle’”

Lopez scowled. “Yeh, only the poor bastard didn’t have bombs dropping on his head”

“I got word of your orders to fall back. An orderly retreat is under way now Major. We can plug some gaps for a little while but it will only be a matter of time before the Spaniards turn our positions into rubble”

“Ok, as it is I have everyone here on standby to evacuate totally. Make sure your men are ready too” Rodger went to reply when the floor beneath them shuddered violently. An old corner store delicatessen exploded outwards with deadly force as a 105 mm shell hit dead center. A hail of concrete assaulted the mail center. Shards of concrete glass and steel became lethal projectiles. The destruction of surrounding buildings was causing mortal wounding of the old building without having to have suffered a direct hit.

Some bodies in the room lay motionless, having copped the deadly shrapnel. Others moaned as they lifted themselves gingerly off the floor. Lopez’s head felt like it had copped a savage right hook, the left side of his head throbbing. The American shook the cobwebs from his vision and let out a tirade of obscenities. He saw Rodger swerve unsteadily on his feet. “Sons of whores! They are trying to bury us alive!” he spat. As he stood, a bearded man called out to Lopez. “Monsieur Lopez! I have an urgent communiqué from the British”

“What? Are you sure?” Lopez was puzzled.

“Yes monsieur, the British are stationed off the coast”

“Are they hear to provide help?” Lopez asked this half hoping but realizing the absurdity of his question. The communications man scoffed. “The British helping France? Hah!” Brittian and France had deep feelings of mistrust that sometimes boiled into outright conflict. It was a time honored feud almost. The 100 Year War, Napoleon and numerous other conflicts. “The message reads…’To the commander of the garrison of Marseille, I am Admiral Dunning of the British Expeditionary force. You have one hour in which to leave your positions and vacate the city…” “What the hell?” interjected Lopez. “We cant get them all out!”

The communications man continued ‘Great Britain is now at war with France, as part of our overall plan to halt the Spanish. Be advised I shall be demonstrating our intentions at precisely 3.35pm” Lopez looked at the communications man who shrugged. Cautiously they looked towards the Spaniards. Moments later they all watched with stunned awe as successive blasts ripped through several main roads that the Spaniards controlled. One moment there were men and their heavy guns moving to positions; the next they had seemingly vaporized. Dirt, asphalt, bitumen, concrete kerbing, traffic lights, wrecked vehicles and more shot upwards and outwards into thousands of pieces. Black smoke and dust billowed upwards, obscuring vision. Seconds later, buildings too became rubble as the heavy hitting Naval shells reigned death upon the Spanish.

“Jesus f*****g Christ!”muttered Lopez. He wasted little time. “All right, you heard those British bastards. Lets get the hell out of here. Grab what you can and head to the trucks. Rodger, try and get as much of your men out of the city perimeter and head to the highway north of here. We will link up there and try and head for Paris” Rodger wasted no time on a reply, racing down the stairs several at a time whilst barking instructions in rapid French to his hand held radio. Lopez loaded several boxes with documents, too important to fall into British or Spanish hands. He handed the boxes to a young soldier who let without orders.

Lopez quickly scanned the room and spotted a bear of a man who was handing tool boxes and several cases to other soldiers. “Hey Tony!” he called out, running to him “Ive gotta job for you. Rig this building with as much plastic as you can and blow it up in their faces with your remote detonation gear. Make sure you vaporize this place as we can take all the stuff here. I’ll meet you at the exit off the highway to Paris. There will be a vehicle waiting at the old theatre to get you there”

Tony grinned sadistically, clearly going to enjoy the mayhem. Lopez left as the big Texan and his team began retrieving canisters and electronic devices and begun setting up. Lopez called out to the rest in the building. “OK people…lets get the HELL out of here!”
 
The race north had been somewhat slow, as the roads were congested with fleeing citizens. Some left on foot with only the clothes on their backs, others drove in laden vehicles with as much possessions as they could carry. As much as it pained him to do so, he ordered all drivers not to carry any civilians. Should the convoy have to stop and fight, the civilians would quickly become a liability. After all, Lopez had no idea what the situation was like elsewhere, except for sketchy reports that Clermont Ferrand had been captured.

The convoy managed to break free of the mayhem as the suburbs petered out. Out here he was caught up by Rodger who made more than good time in getting his men out of the city. By now a decent view of the British could be seen for the first time. Through his lenses he could see LCT’s move inexorably closer to the beaches. In fact, the first wave had quickly established a beach head and begun to penetrate the city. Small black puffs of smoke indicated the firing of the guns onboard the battleships and destroyers. He could still here the sounds of those guns firing. He could only hope that Tony and his men had gotten out in time. Having integrated Rodger and his men into the convoy, they moved again.

The turn off to Paris was still someway off as they passed through large farming estates. Lopez begun to doze off but was woken by a familiar southern drawl from his hand held radio. “Boss, this is the Bear. Ave made it out with ma boys and were heading your way. Those damn Brits got a rude shock when they walked through the door. Wasted a whole company of them”

Lopez managed a half smile and begun to doze once more. It was not going to be his day when he head his driver through his dreams. "Holy ****! Major, wake up!” The urgency of the drivers tone jolted the sleep from his mind. What in the name? Wondered Lopez. There was no mistaking it. They were hulking big Leopard battle tanks of an entire armoured division , chief striking arm of the Bundeswehr.

“Oh crap we are caught between the British, Spain, and now the Germans!” moaned the driver. The tanks thundered along the muddy wide shoulder off the highway. Transport vehicles full of troops moved alongside. Trucks carried supplies and heavy guns. “Halt the convoy! Block their passage,” ordered Lopez. The driver looked at him as if he were plain crazy. “Do it!” Lopez repeated his orders. In moments the convoy pulled up and took up places on the road. Lopez prayed the tank commander did not have a habit of driving over parked vehicles. The German convoy screeched to a jarring halt at the obstruction but none of the vehicles collided. In a flash Lopez lept from his truck, followed by Rodger. The other vehicles followed suit as its occupants spewed forth.

Lopez and Rodger stared at the lead tank, marveling the imposing frame of the steel beast. Armed men, guns trained on him and his men advanced forward. Striding with an air of Teutonic arrogance, the convoy’s commander stepped forward. “Identify yourselves” His tone was clipped

“Major Frank Lopez, French Resistance army. We are making for Paris. We lost Marseille to the British” Anger flashed in his eyes. “Yes, we thought that much. That is why Germany are responding to this situation. We intend to drive the English back into the sea. I am intrigued though, an American in charge of a French army”

“Long story…ah…Colonel…?” Lopez probed for his name, spying the chevrons on his shoulders indicating his rank. “Colonel Oliver Lindemann, 21st Armoured Division, 2nd Army Group. There is no time for long stories Major” He looked around him at the men assembled behind Lopez who looked worse for wear. Their weapons were no longer pointing at the Germans, so Lindemann ordered his men at ease. “I see you and your forces have been in a bit of a hard scrap” Lopez nodded. “The Spaniards don’t have a habit of engaging in a fair fight. Nor those damn Brits either”. The Colonel thought for a moment, the silence hanging uneasily. Lindemann turned to a staff officer and muttered a few words in German.

“Major, I think you can be of service to us. You and your Luitenants know the city well, we don’t. So I want you to guide us through the city, pin point locations for us that can be of use and the like. You may ride up front with me so we can integrate your information if you agree to it”

Frank turned back to Rodger and conversed quickly. “While Im not fond of putting my life at risk again, I think I can help” The Colonel offered a tight smile. “Excellent. The rest of your men can continue on. One thing though, ensure your men are bound to strict secrecy. This is a sensitive operation and I cannot and will not have word passed around about our presence. I will explain in full after Marseille. Is this understood?”

Lopez thought for a moment. He wondered what was so damn secret about the Germans attacking the Brits. Were they not welcome in France? Was it to ensure surprise in the assault? Were certain people not supposed to know? In any case it intrigued him so he decided to go along with it. “Ok, give me a minute” He spoke to Rodger and other ranking officers then passed the word amongst the men. Satisfied the men were to keep their word and having designated Captain Zidane to move the rest of the army, he turned back to the Colonel. “Right, then what are we waiting for? Lets kick some British arse” Lopez and his selected officers climbed into the first few lead vehicles and the mighty power of the Bundeswehr set off.
 
Major General Wolfgang Schroeder looked like a worn man as he slumped in his leather recliner with despondence. He gazed out through the windows looking into the main complex on the sixth floor, watching staff moving about. Some wore suits, others army fatigues, some others parade uniforms. Some had large chest-full of medals. They carried folders and briefcases, stopped and chatted to different people. Individual cubicles were alive with activity.

It was a busy time for Schroeder because of the war between Spain and France, checking the intentions of the aggressive Spaniards. There was also the British problem. Then there was another major problem. Three of the most dangerous men in Germany who were under surveillance vanished. There were some vague pointers to the disappearing act but the Bundeswehr were largely in the dark. Now came the hard part, informing the Government. Hence the Major Generals despondency. It would be all the more harder because it happened five days ago and nothing was said.

Before long the government representatives that Schroeder was dreading arrived. A couple of faces he did not know, yet he recognized Foreign Minister Otto Schneider and National Affairs minister Hans Speidel. He almost winced when he noticed Supreme Commander Wilhelm Kordes, his boss. He offered a quick salute, which was reciprocated. Schroeder invited the men to sit and begun pouring drinks for the reps.

“Ah, marvelous stuff, Vat 69” commented Schneider as he sipped his glass. Schroeder smiled weakly. “It is. I would not dream of stocking anything else” One of the unknown men spoke. “Be careful how much you have Schneider. No one in this building will be safe from your antics” All the men chuckled. SChneider was rather fond of whisky and had gone overboard on several occasions with amusing results.

Schneider ignored the jibes. “Major General, I would like you to meet Rudolf Mann and Jorgen Hammerschmidt. They are government auditors who are here to pour over the books to see if the organization is running at peak efficiency. You did remember?” Schroeder nodded. He detested the auditing team. Stuffy, uptight and utterly devoid of life. Too much like robots. “Yes sir, the agency staff was informed and the gentlemen can begin now if they like” replied the chief.

“Thank you Major General” said Mann. “Firstly my colleague and I are rather hungry. Were is the cafeteria?”

“Ground floor, next to the satellite imaging department. The food is not that good so there is a small café to the left of the building entrance. As it is I would like to speak to my superiors” said Schroeder. The auditors nodded in understanding and left the office.

“I hope this is worth the cancellation for my game of golf Major General” said the tough talking commander. A look of apprehension came over the intelligence chief’s face. He bit his lip.

“Well sir, you will wish you were out there right now. As it stands, the news is bad. It concerns three men under surveillance, Heinrich Himmler, Heinz Guderian and Walter Klopp” The General rolled his eyes, half knowing what Schroeder was about to say. Schneider and Speidel looked at each other. “Oh I see,” said Schneider, who clearly did not. “How is the investigation going?”

Schroeder cleared his throat. “Well, you see, it isn’t” A moment’s silence filled the room. Kordes spoke first. “Are you going to tell us that the psychopath Himmler and his stooges have vanished?” There was a hint of anger in his voice. “Yes sir…yes they have”

“Vanished? How is this possible?” spluttered Speidel

“That we cannot say with much certainty sir” replied the chief.

“When?” asked Schneider.

“Six days ago”

“Six days!?” exploded Kordes. “And you inform us now?” Schneider tried to remain calm. “We were following leads to try and sort this out. We don’t know how they slipped our tags. It does appear however that a number other men also vanished too” replied the chief. The three looked expectantly.

“It would seem they are all ex-commandos linked in some way with the Nazi’s. Our guess is they are Himmler and Co.’s bodyguards and they smuggled them out of view. These selected men know their trade. It doesn’t help that they are all dishonorable discharges. Their files say they are the worst of the worst; Murderers, white supremacists, rapists, you name it”

“Ok” said Schneider. “Where are they now? Do your people even have an idea?”

“Our sources are sketchy but one thing keeps coming back to us. We would need to look further but…it seems they made it into Spain” replied Schroeder in a low voice.

The general looked at him as if a sledgehammer hit him. Schneider and Speidel muttered under their breath. “Its one thing you tell us that Himmler has made off with his Nazi scum mercenaries” spat Kordes “but its another that you tell us he is now is Spain” Schroeder sighed “Regrettably it would seem that our sketchy sources are true. This is bad news”

“No sh*t” said Kordes. Schneider looked over his shoulder as if he was wary of an intruder. “Spain. The worst possible destination. Why is this?”

Schroeder cleared his throat. “Well, Himmler is competent in the field of nuclear weapons which is why I think he went to Spain, as Spain is looking to build nuclear weapons. Now in the last few days, Spain is at war with France. France has a supply of Uranium”

“Wilhelm is not going to like this” said Speidel. “He will try and avoid war at all costs, which looks like it may come to this with this new development” Kordes coughed. “At this rate he will have no choice but to declare it. Spain is out of control” Hans Speidel spoke “In any case, we must convene immediately all high level personnel and work out a strategy. This is a nightmare”
 
Otto Schneider eased himself down at an empty table inside the private lounge that was nestled deep within the Bundestag. This private lounge was for top-level government officials and their related staff to come and wind down, to have something to drink or eat. No expense was spared in providing the food and drink, which was on par, if not better, than the best of the European restaurants. Schneider had found a quite corner, paying little attention to the few other people in the room as he waited for his cappuccino. He would have loved a stiff drink but no alcohol was available until after 6pm.

It was 4.30 pm and the time seemed to drag. He leaned back in his chair and cursed under his breath, the frustration from the deadlocked emergency cabinet meeting, which designed to formulate a strong response Spain. That was the objective. Instead, it got bogged down and no one could agree, what with the Prime Minister, Assistant PM and several other key ministers quite puzzling reluctance at formally declaring war on Spain. Trade embargoes seemed to be reluctantly agreed to. He shook his head and wondered what the hell was going on.

Even after Supreme Commanders Wilhelm Kordes excellent plan at a combined arms attack through France utilizing the 17th and the 55th Airborne of the Sturmgruppen in conjunction with the 1st Army (3rd and 5th) and the 4th Army (10th and 21st) backed by Commodore Frick’s bomber squadrons to drive through the heart of France. Paratroopers were to land on the flanks of the Spanish drive to hold them whilst the weight of the German armies could be brought to bear. The plan was sound and the strength of the attack could have posed grave implications for the Spanish. Yet it was vetoed. War did not seem to strike accord in general, except for Schneider himself, the B.I.O (Bundeswehr Intelligence Organization) chiefs, the Minister For War Gunther Von Spee and the Defense Force staff. The trade embargoes too met stiff resistance and were only agreed on late in the meeting. After all trade between Spain and Germany was pretty strong despite some seriously deep animosity between the two.

As far as some of the top brass were concerned, they would turn a blind eye if they got the financial returns towards what Spain was up to. Thankfully, in Schneider’s view there were those that were concerned as to what Spain was cooking up and took appropriate matters to keep an eye out. He was also thankful that no one had dug deep to find the double dealings with France, what with the decision to help fund France’s nuclear weapons program and to provide commandoes to secure the Clermont Ferrand uranium mines and engineers to repair critical transportation networks. As it worked out, Spain captured the town and the mine ahead of the German commandoes making the money designed to run the program obsolete. It was now up to France what to do with the money. The program would not get off the ground; after all were would they get uranium from? Not Germany as there was no way in hell that it could be sent across the border due to the insanely tight regulations in place. Still, all that didn’t matter. If the Kaiser found out about the back door dealings with the French President then all the demons in hell would be unleashed and no doubt the government would collapse in a serious scandal. As far as Schneider was concerned, it had to be done.

The lone politician did not notice a lean, heavily bearded man enter the room and scan it with his ice blue eyes. His jet black hair, with streaks of grey taking over, was parted to the right. His thick horned rimmed spectacles added to the geeky low level scientist look. It was a perfect case of looks been deceiving. Much like the men who inhabited his post in prior years, he was shrewd of mind, with snake cunning touched with arrogance. Extremely perceptive, he served with distinction as a Colonel within the Bundeswehr in what seemed like years ago. This man spotted who he was searching for and strode purposefully towards Schneider and sat down at his table, placing his oak tanned briefcase under the table. He did not speak at first.

“What happens now?” he asked directly, removing his glasses and folding them into his suit pocket. Schneider sighed. “Well Gunther, we sit…and we wait”

Gunther Von Spee placed an order for an ice tea with a young waitress who had glided silently to their table, before vanishing. “Ah, so we wait until Spain makes the first move then” Von Spee’s tone was bitter. He was one who advocated a military response to the serious Spanish question.

“So it seems my old friend”

“I was surprised at the resistance to trade embargoes against Spain”

“Most baffling. I know our commercial links with them have proved very lucrative but I cant see Wilhelm’s opposition to measures against Alphonso. Even he himself agreed that Alphonso is a menace”

“Well, yes, anyone who calls himself His Worship, builds nuclear weapons and kills opponents is not the kind you would invite to meet your mother” said Von Spee sarcastically.

“It took a lot of cajoling” Schneider continued, “to get those damn embargoes agreed to” Schneider idly scooped at the milky froth of his cappuccino. “So every single government and private enterprise is off?” queried Von Spee. “Yes. All Spanish ships are prohibited from German ports and German ships banned from Spanish ports. The same goes with air transport”

“It could well be the catalyst that provokes Spain into a war” Von Spee pointed out. “Yes, then Wilhelm would be forced to act properly” grunted the Foreign Minister. “Something is amiss Gunther and it is damn puzzling”

“I am no psychic though perhaps it could be that France will have to be dealt with. Wilhelm has a serious aversion to the French” offered Von Spee “Though mind you, word could get out about the shady dealings with the French” Schneider simply nodded “Our tracks though are pretty well covered I would hope. The 200 million Euros was structured to look like a debt payment. The commandoes were listed as on an official exercise. Only Major General Donath knew the full extent of his mission. The engineers were part of a gesture of good will that Wilhelm himself began a few years ago to deflect animosity over the French/German relationship”

Von Spee took a sip from his iced tea that had just arrived. “Well, France have got themselves 200 million Euros now that they lost their only supply of Uranium. We better be careful not to dig ourselves too deep in all this subterfuge Otto or we will become cannon fodder. Those opposed to us are very powerful men” His tone was soft but firm and forceful. Schneider smiled devilishly. “Oh don’t worry about that problem. It wont happen”

Von Spee looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“The 200 million sent to them wasn’t exactly a free gift you see, though that part of the deal I neglected to tell them. If they knew they would never have co-operated with us”

Von Spee smiled. “You crafty devil. A blackmail of sorts”

“Exactly. We can use it to silence them in case they decide to squeal. The way its been done, it will look like French agents stole the money”. Schneider grinned fiendishly. An astute politician, he was never one to miss out on a chance to flimflam the opposition if he and his friends interests were threatened. Schneider was about to say something when his cell phone rung. “Hello?…Yes Major General Schroeder…I am at parliament, why do you ask?…” Schneider’s eys widened. “What a surprise….did he go quietly?…Hopefully he can shed some answers….Thank you for calling, I'll be there as soon as I can get a flight out” He closed the connection and his faced beamed in excitement.

“What was that all about?”

“Joachim Piper was brought in, he is an associate of Himmler”

“Unbelievable! Your heading to the BIO now?”

“Yes, I want to be there when they break him for knowing Himmlers whereabouts. If not I will damn well do it myself. He has to know something”

Von Spee cautioned Schneider. “Piper is a tough nut. Be careful, don’t get too involved. You don’t want to be compromised by that snake” Schneider waved him off. “I do not need to be concerned with Piper. He is a tired old man, he cannot intimidate Otto Schneider” With that he was off, dropping a few coins on the table, before throwing over his shoulder “I’ll be in touch once I know anything”.
 
Putrid cigarette smoke filled the small square room, which had just a table and three chairs furnishing it. There was a large glass window which covered half of the wall next to the main entrance. A solitary figure sat in one of the chairs with a cigarette raised to his mouth. He dragged on the cancer stick then exhaled the second hand smoke, further polluting the restricted air supply in the room. A look of contempt dominated his facial expression, as if he were defying the authority of those watching unseen behind the one way window. Ignoring the ashtray in front of him, already full of cigarette butts, he stubbed his dwindling cigarette on the table, straight into the microphone embedded into the table. A petty smirk broke out across his face as he reached for another cigarette from the pack on the table.

“Do you think he is stalling? Is there something he hasn’t told us?” A bald man looked at his partner, who leaned on a desk pushed against the window. The man took a sip from a cold cup of coffee and shook his head. “Nah, I reckon he is just been a stubborn jackass , wasting our time. We could be down at the Purple Eagle having a few drinks, instead we are trying to drag bits and pieces out of this scum dog”

“He could be a mid level stooge within Himmlers empire” mused the bald man.

“Yeh, he may perhaps converse with Himmler but I doubt as if he is in the loop as to his everyday movements and activities. He then wouldn’t know of Himmlers grand schemes” He finished off his cold coffee and tossed the disposable cup at a bin in the corner. The bald man thumbed through a thick file pertaining to the man in question. Joachim Piper, formerly a Major in the Bundeswehr at the time of the Serbian War, a hard nosed commander of the infamous Kampfgruppe Piper, if storied about the task force was to be believed. His job was to infiltrate enemy lines and commit acts of sabotage. It was and still is alleged that he ordered the execution of unarmed Serbian P.O.W’s after surrounding the company in a short but viscous exchange. It was in violation of international treaties in effect at that stage. Later German authorities attempted to charge him with war crimes but he always eluded proceedings thanks to a clever team of lawyers exploiting loopholes. After the war he left the army and begun a private security firm tied to the Nazi party. The bald man threw the file on the desk and rubbed his chin. “Now what? He hasn’t been very helpful. We might have to let him go”

“Oh, we will keep pressing him. He may just shed some light on Himmlers Empire. I’ll try a…” he was interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. He grabbed it from his jacket and answered it.

“Wouters speaking…Not the best, he looks like he is wasting time…Nah, just some inconsequential leads which the corporate watchdogs can look at but nothing for us…Sir?…What now?…I see, when can we expect them?…Ok, fine sir”. He closed off the connection and a look of annoyance spread across his face.

“The boss?”

“Yes, he says to expect to expect a high ranking visitor” replied Wouters. The other man groaned. “Not Schroeder?” “Yes, just what we need, the B.I.O breathing down our necks. He said that Otto Schneider is coming too”

“Crap”

“My sentiments exactly. Why I don’t know but maybe they have some sort of interest in Piper”

“Wasn’t Scheider in the same unit as Piper years ago?” asked the bald man. “I don’t know. I don’t see what their presence is going to achieve though” muttered the agent darkly.
 
In the time it took for the guests to arrive, the agents talked idly between themselves. They didn’t bother to return to the interrogation room, instead allowing Piper to poison himself further on his second hand smoke. They had no more they could drag out of the old soldier, unless Schneider had something. They had no idea the mess they were going to be in. Wouters casually flipped a coin up and down when there was a quick rap of knuckles on the door. Those outside didn’t wait to be let in. They quickly inserted the combination code and the light turned green. Filling into the room was Schroeder, Speidel and secret service agents assigned as protection. Several more stood outside the room, blocking access to the room.

“Schneider, this is Agents Wouters and Becker” introduced Schroeder. “Both men have been working non stop on this case” They shook hands and offered curt nods. The tired expressions said it all. “Your efforts I this vital security matter is appreciated” offered Schneider sincerely. “What progress have you made?”

“Very little sir” replied Wouters matter of fact. “small details unrelated to Himmler vanishing that other departments can chase. Nothing that could truly help us I believe”. Schneider stepped to the window and started at Piper, his eyes seemingly taking on a far off appearance as if trying to remember something. “I am surprised you were able to bring him in” said Schneider. Wouters looked at the Foreign Minister with a questioning look. “Why is that?”

Schneider turned around. “Why? Because if I know him correctly, he would be in Himmlers inner circle. He may well be in charge of the delinquent soldiers who are part of his bodyguard. You see, I served alongside Piper in Serbia and got to know him pretty well. Cold, aloof, intense, quite the brilliant mind. I learned there that Piper had connections to Himmler then. Hence why I am here. When I heard through Schroeder that you brought him in I was most interested”

Wouters tired expression seemingly fell away and he immediately felt invigourated. “Now there is a good piece of news. Lets drag it out of him then”. Schneider smiled but it was devoid of warmth. He stepped into the interrogation room.
 
I have no intention of stopping at all. Its just getting interesting :D



The door swung open quietly. Piper had just mashed another cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. He looked up into the impassive face of Otto Schneider, ignoring the others that followed him in. A greasy smile stretched Pipers lips. “Well, well, Captain Otto Schneider…I haven’t seen you in some time. Did Himmler say something nasty about your dear old mother?”

“I would not rather have seen you at all Joachim. Perhaps left swinging from a rope in the gallows” retorted Schneider caustically. “I will have none of your stupid little games Piper. Tell me the truth. We can work out a deal”. Schneider leaned over the table and stared at Piper. Piper blew the acrid cigarette smoke into Schneider face. “I have told thee agents what I know” he stated defiantly. Schneider did not flinch despite having inhaled the second hand smoke and it stinging his lungs. “Don’t be a fool Piper. You and Himmler have a history together. You know of his movements. I’d say you protected him when he fled Germany”

Piper snorted arrogantly. “Of course Otto. You can assume what you like but I will reiterate. I do not know where Himmler is” Piper stubbed out his cigarette again but did not moved to light another. “There is nothing you can charge me with. Your government has tried to jail me before but failed” A dirty leer infected his expression. “Half of the present administration might have something to say about it” A light went on inside Shcneiders mind. Had Piper just let slip something big? Agents Wouter and Becker looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Piper stopped himself from saying anymore. He silently cursed. Schneider let it go for the moment. “Ok Joachim, I shall give you two opportunities to come clean” Schneider walked over to Wouters “Agent, please give me your weapon” Wouters did not understand “I am sorry, I cannot do that” He placed his hand over his holstered weapon in a defensive posture. “You know sir that I cannot give you my weapon. It is illegal” he countered. He suddenly realized what Shcneider had in mind. “Sir, are you serious?”

“Agen Wouters, by ministerial decree, I ORDER that you hand over your weapon. You and your partner may leave the room if you wish no part in this matter” he said forcibly and stretched out his hand for the pistol. Reluctantly he handed over his Glock to the minister. Piper spoke up, “What the hell are you doing Otto?” A glint of consternation showed in his eyes. Shcneider said nothing as he came back over to Piper after ordering the bodyguards from the room. He removed the safety latch and looked at Piper who’s arrogance had now melted away. “Minister, you cannot do this!” implored Wouters. “This is insane!” said Becker. Schneider did not look at Wouters but replied, “You and your partner will not be implicated in this. Besides no one will give a damn. He is a war criminal”

Pipers eyes now blazed with fear. He tried to remain calm. “You are mad! You cannot just kill me and expect to get away with it. You will be a marked man!” he hissed.

“A marked man you say? By whom?”

“It does not matter who. Which ever way you will be dead”

“For a man who claims to know nothing, you seem to actually know something” Schneider said casually. “Spill the beans Joachim and I will see to it that you will be protected” Joachim laughed bitterly. “You cannot protect me! You cannot protect yourself! You will find yourself in too deep and you will never dig yourself out. They will bury you”

“Damn it Joachim!” Schneider exploded. “Stop protecting that goddamned psycopath. I am warning you. Look, you may not say anything but by god, there are people that will make you wish you had!” Piper said nothing. He simply stared at the Glock in his interrogators hand, which swung around and was pointed at his temple. Strangely, Piper now showed no fear. “Good bye Otto, I’ll see you in Hell”

Schneider thought a moment, swung the pistol from Pipers head towards his knee and fired. The blast of the powerful pistol was deafening as the bullet annihilated Pipers kneecap, joints and ligaments. The bullet tore through the back of his knee and embedded itself into the carpet. Piper was momentarily shocked beyond belief before the pain came rushing through his body. He let out an excruciating cry of agony as he clutched his mangled knee.

“That is your first chance Piper” said Schneider indifferently. Wouters and Becker were still in the room and could not what believe what they were witnessing. They saw a senior government minister playing gangster thugs in an ugly manner. “I don’t believe this! Minister, I must insist You have to stop this” implored Wouters. Schneider did not say anything as Major General Schroeder entered the room upon hearing the gunshot. If he was shocked at seeing Piper’s knee shot to pieces and Schneider towering over the old man with a pistol, it didn’t show. Instead, he marched over to Piper and grabbed him by the throat. It was plainly obvious the B.I.O chief was in on the thuggery.
 
“Piper, if you ever want to walk again, then I suggest you tell us EVERYTHING! A lot is at stake here you scumbag” Schroeder’s coal black eyes raged with intensity. Piper clenched his teeth and scowled. “You are in on this madness too you sadist! I will tell you only this. I helped Himmler leave this rotten country. I escorted him to his aircraft. I was due to follow in a few days until you pigs brought me in. As to his destination, you don’t need me to tell you. You already know. You have made a big mistake in pursuing Himmler. Your government is on its knees, the people hate your GUTS! Just look at what Wilhelm has done to this country, he is a two faced bastard and you will soon see. Wars, endless wars! Conquest driven by a greed for power, for resources in which to monopolise, oil, uranium, aluminum, rubber, you name it” Piper let out a tortured cry as spasms of pain racked his leg. “If you decide to sell it to another nation, you cripple them financially so that Germany can impose its doctrine of a Germany controlled Europe. Your no better than Hitler. You send our finest young men to die just for conquest. Take a look at the growing unrest in Germany. Its building! They are sick of the pollution, the crumbling services, the lies and the bickering just for a few more goddamned tanks! The ball is rolling now” Piper’s eyes burned with fury, despite the intense pain that constantly gripped him.

“The people will never accept a psycotic, murdering organization as leaders of this nation. The atrocities of the past are still all too real, thanks to you and your insane mongrels” fired back Schroeder. “Atrocities, you call our past an atrocity? What happened to your goddamned nuclear weapons? No one made you drop them! Or was it a figment of our imagination? Hypocrites the lot of you. Damn you, I have said enough!” spat the old man, unable to fight the pain any longer. Schroeder looked down at the pitiful sight. “Agent Becker, get this man to the aid station pronto. Wouters, prepare charges against Mr. Piper. Treason, aiding and abetting wanted criminals, to begin with”.

Several paramedics entered the room as Piper yelled out. “I will never face trial!” They stabilized his wounds, not asking questions as to how his knee was shattered. Schneider handed back the Glock to Wouters, who stared at the minister for a moment before leaving. Schneider pulled out his cell phone and apprised Von Spee of what just happened, minus the shooting incident. No one must know of this, he decided.
 
This might be the last post for a couple of weeks due to me having to work away in the desert for two weeks at a time. Hopefully there is Internet where im going. I'll have plenty of time however to do some writing. Adios!



Some one did know if it. Schneider would have never known but someone inside the organization heard it all. He entered the aid station a couple of hours later. Surprisingly, Piper had not yet been operated on. Instead, heavy bandages covered his decimated knee. He was heavily sedated. Even more surprisingly was the absence of a doctor, nurse or guard, given the nature of his crime. Then again, he wasn’t going anywhere, not with a ruined knee. Piper rolled his head to his left and his vision was blurred as he tried to look at who was approaching him. “Who are you?” he asked groggily. “You know who I am Joachim, look a little harder” Joachim’s vision strained through the fog but he eventually saw who it was. A surprised look came over him. “Why…why are you here?”

The man looked down at Piper. “You know why…you have said too much. You have given them a reason to dig deeper. I will be found out, other people will be found out. That cannot happen Joachim. I am sorry, but I thought you were a man of integrity, a person we could trust. You have put people at risk” There was no sincerity in his apology given what he was about to do. Piper was too weak to resist, the drugs impacting his mobility and his ability to speak properly. The man produced a syringe, prepped it and grabbed Piper’s arm, which jittered feebly in protest. The other arm could barely raise up to fend off the needle. The needle was pushed into a vein and the contents squeezed into his system. He pocketed the syringe and stared at Piper, who begun to die slowly. Without a further thought, he turned from the room, checked each way of the passage to see if anyone was approaching, and left as if it never happened



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The damage seemed a lot worse to Major Frank Lopez than when he was forced to evacuate Marseille. The grand city center looked like the end result of the Apocalypse. Shattered buildings dominated the skyline, with walls blasted away revealing chaotic scenes of carnage inside. Some structures had been blown literally in half. The rubble filled the streets, making passage for vehicles precarious. The crews of the Leopards and the infantry support often had to call in engineers to clear main thoroughfares of large blocks of concrete, brick and steel that halted progress. It seemed that with each clearing, a score of bodies, dead French servicemen and civilians, were removed from the mess. These unfortunates were carried to the city cemetery which itself did not escape damage. In a macabre and ghoulish sight, the dead had seemingly burst through the damp soil. Their final resting places had been splintered and their tombstones shattered. Bones lay everywhere; even in this instance, the old saying that the dead were the only ones free from war did not apply. The graves register of the army set about returning as much of the dead to the ground and buried what they could of the casualties of war.

Lopez stepped over rubble that littered what had been the pretty pedestrian way that ran by the old postal office in which Lopez had used as a command post. The flowerbeds and potted plants that were a feature had become no more. Lampposts lay twisted and contorted and the crazy paving had been ripped up from the shells. Trees were either blasted straight out of the ground or had been blown in half from direct hits. As for the mail office, there was not much to it; just a giant pile of rubble after the explosives went off. Lopez thought he was hearing things but he could hear muffled moans from under the rubble. Curious, he went to investigate. To his surprise and amazement, there was a man half buried a little distance from the building. A large timber beam pinned his legs down, as did concrete slabs that pinned him by the pelvic region that was no doubt broken. “Medic!” cried Lopez. “I’ve got someone here! Help me get this crap of him” It didn’t matter to him that it was a British soldier, he was a human being that needed help. Several men used all their strength to haul the bulky timber beam off his legs. A cry of pain went out from the injured soldier. A medic rushed straight up. “Be careful when you lift the slab. The pressure release could kill him. Slowly lift it off and we will stabilize him” They did as they were told, gently easing the slab off a fraction at a time. The muscles in their lower backs and upper torso strained at the effort and began to protest. With the utmost delicacy, the medical personnel eased the injured Brit away from the mess and carried him off to a field ambulance. The concrete slabs were dropped back down with a thud, throwing dust upwards.

“Bastards, total bastards” Lopez muttered furiously. “Spaniards, Brits, their all bastards. What’s the goddamned point? All they have done is just wreck the goddamned place” He threw his helmet onto the ground and swung at it with his left foot, sending it scuttling across the rubble. Fatigue suddenly hit the Major as the adrenaline of the last day that had kept him going dissipated. He took a seat on a piece of concrete and put his hands through his hair. He paid no attention to the sound of combat boots that came towards him. “Major Lopez sir?” queried a soldier. Lopez looked up and stared into the green eyes of the German soldier. “Yeh, that’s me private” he replied as he eased himself up. “Colonel Lindemann requests your presence at command, Im under orders to guide you there” The German offered a gentle smile that suddenly reminded the 45 year old of the son he had not seen in the last five years since his estranged wife took him away. “Say private, how old are you?” The German replied hesitantly “Ah, I have just turned 18 sir” Lopez did not reply but instead offered a weary smile, thinking to himself at how such young and upstanding men found themselves in such hellish situations. This was no place for teenagers. As a matter of fact it was not a place for anyone. “Ok private, show us the way. There better be a cold Bud back there” he said, grinning. Not quite sure at what the burly American had said, he begun to lead him back to a building that had been spared. It turned out to be a hotel. In fact, it was the Hotel Ritz. Damn cheeky sod, trust him to take up a place like this. Bet his soldiers have got some dumpy houses out the way though Lopez to himself.

The private passed through several security points before knocking on the door of what turned out to be the management offices. “Honestly Colonel, I think you can do a little better than this” said Lopez with a tongue planted firmly in cheek. The office looked like it had been left in a hurry but was still serviceable. His staff went about their duties as Lopez took a seat in front of the German. “Major” he said simply. “If you are referring to the executive suites, I am afraid that there would have been a mutiny on my hands if the brass took it up. Besides, I detest extravagance. The ordinary suites will suit my officers fine” Lopez smiled congenially. “I like your style Colonel. Say, there would be a chance of a cold beer at all?”

“Name your poison Major”

“A Budweiser would do me fine”.

The Colonel offered a mock disgusted look. “I should not have expected anything more. Just like you Americans what with your steak and chips and inferior beer”

Lopez shrugged innocently. “What can I say Colonel. I detest extravagance” The Colonel offered a wry grin, further endearing himself to Lopez. Lopez spoke first. “Say Colonel, its been on my mind since we linked up…but what was with the secrecy order you gave back out there” Lopez leaned forward in his seat. Lindemann did not answer at first, his mind weighing up whether to tell Lopez why. “Well, I really should not be saying anything about such issues that affect international relations between two nations” started the Colonel “but due to your co-operation I think you deserve an answer” The Colonel stood up and walked around the room. “Relations between France and Germany are rather frosty to say the least. Certain… ‘deals’…if you may, were created between our nation that not everyone is in the loop on”.

“Certain people?”

“Ah, yes, namely Prime Minister Wilhelm. He does not know of the deals struck with the senior members of the French government. Now, our action against Brittian is not so secret as we currently are engaged in hostilities against them. Unfortunately an expeditionary force we sent to northern Scotland has been trapped there after the naval support was eliminated. Our presence here is to at least detract from their plight and engage the Brits elsewhere that may draw their resources away from our men. Our co-operation with French authorities is secret therefore absolute secrecy must be maintained on all sides. I wont tell you the details of Germany’s deals, it’s a need to know basis but if the word got out, there will be hell to pay”.

Lopez simply nodded. His straight face belied a fascination at the murky politics going on. “A game of high stakes. Why the subterfuge?” Colonel Lindemann again weighed up whether to reveal the facts. He decided to trust him again. “Simply the reason why you and your men risked your lives in a futile resistance. The Spaniards”

“What? To help us push back the Spaniards? Why should you be concerned about what happens over there?” probed the American. “Two reasons. The first is a matter concerning national security that I will not allude to. Secondly, Spain is out of control and they are after uranium, which they now have control of and aluminum. They have nuclear reactor parts and they want nuclear weapons. Should they build them then god help us all. That there ties in with the whole France/Germany subterfuge. Wilhelm is unwilling to declare war on Spain for reasons best known to himself. If we cant go at Spain then we must do what we can to help others thwart them”

“Right…so France just happens to be the pawn in all this. Convenient. Get someone else to dirty their hands then. There is always something rotten going on in German politics. It makes me think that your people want to corner the uranium supply” Lopez’ voice belied a trace of sarcasm. Lindemann ignored his inference. “I make no apologies if France appears to been used as a pawn here Major, that’s not my business. As for your thoughts, we are not in the business of controlling uranium reserves, though we do hold the leases to all oil supplies. Simply, we are in the business of insuring that a maniac like Alphonso does not unleash a nuclear holocaust on you, Germany, Italy or any of its enemies. No one else is in that position to resist it. Your catastrophic defeats, hardly your fault, have proved that”

Lopez leaned back in his chair “I see. So Germany is playing an European version of America. Fair enough, Russia is too much of a basket case to do anything. They are in constant civil strife that’s ruined them. Now that we…err, you have pushed the British back, what happens now?”

“This poor city is handed back to France and will not be occupied” stated the Colonel. Lopez looked surprised. “Really? That to me seems to have never happened in Europe”. Lindemann nodded.“Yes, that’s true. If it were actual hostilities between two nations and our troops captured a city of there’s, then there is no hand back. Yet this is not a British city, it belongs to France”.

“What would Wilhelm and his cronies say?”

“Nothing I suppose, when it is reported to him that the city is uninhabitable. In any case, our troops will remain here for the foreseeable future, more as a forward base to respond to any Spanish aggression, as soon as the roads are repaired, a rail link established and an airport constructed. The airborne will be dropping around this region to set up forward observation to monitor movements”

“Do you think you’ll have to fight the Spaniards?” asked Lopez. “I do believe it is inevitable” Lindemann replied simply. “As for France and Spain, our agents will be trying to broker some sort of peace deal. Alphonso has been a little receptive to dialogue lately”.

Lopez got up and grabbed his beer. “Well colonel, whilst you got tanks, your going to have a terrible fight against those scumbags. They don’t play fair. Best of luck Colonel, you sure did save our asses back there” . Lopez shook the beefy hand that was offered him. “Thank you Major. What are your immediate plans?” Lopez grinned. “The most important thing. Finish this beer, and then go find another one”
 
Captain Helmut Schmidt looked out through the cockpit of his insanely expensive aircraft and took in the panoramic views in the brief moment he allowed himself to relax. Far below him was the rugged coastline of southern Turkey. The ancient coastline, ruled in the past by Greeks, Persians, Romans, the Byzantines and Ottoman Turks, seemed to inch by slowly as the B-3 Stealth bomber peeled through the vivid blue skies of the Mediterranean. Before him was the sea itself which beckoned them on. The southern coast of this ancient land was still in the hands of the British Empire whilst the shroud of the German empire inexorably closed in. The only thing that prevented a total rout of the British was the thinly stretched resources of the Bundeswehr . The seemingly unstoppable juggernaut was concentrated in many efforts; the English homeland in northern Scotland had been invaded (rather disastrously) and bombers had begun to rake the southern regions of England, Sweden which was codenamed Operation Nordwind. Nordwind had been planned some years back after Swedish transgressions. Then there were the heavy special forces commitment in France whose task was to monitor another military power, Spain. Alphonso seemed hell bent on conquering France in the pursuit of Uranium and above all a maniacal lust for ultimate power. As it was, Germany and Spain were yet to butt heads in war. It did seem inevitable as events were rapidly spiraling out of control inside Germany, shadowy forces working in tandem with one of the worlds most wanted criminals who had fled to Spain on the eve of his arrest.

There were German forces in the Aegean, based in southern Greece, involved in the hand over of towns and cities previously controlled in the British and also preparing to sweep this timeless domain fully of British presence on Iraklion. There was also constant warring around the Caucasus mountain ranges, swarming with British troops. Yet all of this did not register at all in Schmidt’s mind. All his mental powers were directed upon the task at hand; an intense bombing raid of Nicosia in Cyprus. Stubbornly the English held onto this decrepit colonial possession. Its people were impoverished, its wealth raped by malodorous British administrators whose job was to work for its people and help them prosper. Now the Cypriots were burdened with rampant crime, vile pollution that seemed to cause a litany of destruction, shambolic civil services that seemed to barely fuction. The despised fat cats hid in the opulent resorts on the southern coast. Law and order was on the verge of collapse, with anarchy to be its beneficiary as the people took to the streets. Monuments to British rule were attacked and looked, set on fire, spat on, destroyed. Now on top of this was the German bombings.

Schmidt felt safe knowing his aircraft could not be targeted. The AA batteries wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the stealthy wraiths in the sky. That’s if there were any left though; the low flying transports with commandoes would have been in trouble. Yet he had this gnawing guilt in him knowing that those below him would not be safe. This operation was phase two in the air wars as part of a renewed offensive in the Mediterranean. Phase one had targeted all known British installations; one of the British owned resorts had scored a direct hit when a bomb fell prematurely due to incorrect programming. Hundreds died when high explosives blew apart every square inch of the residences. Factories were hit to slow British war efforts which worked, but only served to deepen the miserable plight of the civilians who depended on such factories for gainful employment.

Phase two bothered the pilot’s conscience as it did his co-pilot. This would see the very people the Germans hoped to liberate targeted. Residential areas would become vast areas of misery. No matter how professional Schmidt and his fellow pilots attempted to be, the decision to fully turn the screws on the British with urban bombings haunted him. Schmidt was a veteran of Sweden and vividly remembered the destruction his death delivering payloads handed out. He could not fight the inevitable as the targets of the eight plane squadron were calculated and entered into the mainframes of the high tech computer that would place the ordnance to with in millimeters of its target. Now the squadron had passed over the island and begun banking gently to the left as it passed over the capital. 30 seconds…20…10…5…zero. A laboured flick of the switch and it was bombs away, its pay load gaining in speed as it fell. Those below had no idea of the explosive nightmare they were about to be embroiled in. Schmidt hoped that when the airborne went in they could do something, anything. He hoped that the second pass would not be so devastating.
 
Dust, heat and goddamned flies, was the general complaint from those unfortunate few who spent their time at Adana patrolling the outer exclusion zone just beyond the city, which was in the far southern reaches of Turkey before the Holy Land and onto Antakya. To the west was the Toros Daglari with the Iskenderun Korfezi before them and to the east a small range of mountains in which Russia controlled Aleppo. Adana was situated in very fertile country, right in the middle of the Cukurova plains, the best productive lands in the whole of Turkey who had the beautiful river Seyhan running through the city, fed from the great Seyhan lake. It is a city steeped in history, having passed through the hands of the Romans, the Byzantines and even as far back as the Hittites. That mattered little to those at the Incirlik air base; whilst the facilities here were second to none, there was truly no place like the father land.

It became dire when word came through of the British army heading their way. Perhaps it was their isolation and boredom but their seemed to be an aloofness to the troops response to the threat. Nonetheless, ammo casings and shells were loaded into the tanks in the event that the English showed themselves. The midday day heat was tolerable to those inside the base but to those forced outside onto patrol it was hell. The apparent no show of the enemy made it worse.

“Where the hell are these bastards?” muttered Private Anderrson, a Swedish born German, who seemed to be carrying too much gear for his liking in this infernal heat. “Back home…sipping on a cold beer, surrounded by bikinied babes, swimming in a pool…” replied his long time buddy Private F/C Engelmann, “How the hell should I know!”

“Shut up you moron…Im getting thirsty just thinking about a beer”Anderrson replied. “Why the hell am I carrying this sh!t heavy pack. Surely we don’t need half this garbage in it” Ahead of him a Sergeant looked back to him “Its because you’re a dumb ass Anderrson, your too stupid to do anything else than be a pack horse. You should put your weapon away, you could shoot yourself” His poker face belied a humorous nature that helped break the tension. “Yes sarge, but let me put a shot into your arse first,” retorted Anderrson. “Im sorry private, Im not gay but thank you, Im flattered that you like my behind” Stifled laughs spread through the company. Anderrson knew he was outwitted and kept his mouth shut, “Wiseass, you would be gay” he muttered under his breath. The suns rays began to dim as clouds begun to obscure it, casting welcome shade. The patrol moved on in relative silence through the shrubbery as they begun to move up an incline. The lead scout suddenly halted the patrol and called up the platoon sergeant. “What is it private?”

“Down over by the gully, I swear there were movements of men” Sarge unraveled his lenses and peered to were the private pointed out. “Nice work private lets bring u…” His reply was brutally cut off as bullets buzzed angrily into the ground around and several burrowing into the Sergeants chest. He was dead before he fell back. A murderous fire had opened up on the left of the patrol, pinning them down and the patrol been unable to open fire. The spotted movements had been a decoy aimed at halting the platoon and to bring them down there. They had opened fire prematurely but still had the Germans in a dangerous spot. Private Anderrson had crawled behind a safe spot and tried to shrink himself as much as he could. He tried looking over the rocks but was sent scurrying by shots. The fire wasn’t particularly rapid but it was enough to hold them down, the British force using rifles as compared to the high tech Steyr’s of the Germans. He could hear the radioman attempting to call in artillery fire from the base. “Fire in sector 12, I repeat Fire in sector 12!”That would put the shells in extremely close to the Germans but the German artillery brigades were second to none in their pin point bombing. Barely any time at all had elapsed when he could here shells whistle in and explode, only they just overshot the hot spot. A sergeant begun barking orders, ordering them to move back to more defendable positions. Heavy machine guns opened up, covering the retreat forcing the British to halt and take cover. They were determined however and pressed on. The Germans quickly found themselves outnumbered, though with superior weaponry, and at once begun to fall back to the massive Incirlik military complex as more shells whistled by and begun blowing up the beautiful countryside.

It was tough going and took some hard slogging but the bulk of the force found themselves entering the exclusion zone set up around the base. Incirlik was primarily a Lufftwaffe base but Bundeswehr officials opted to combine the army and airforce. It was benefited by a railroad that ran on the south side of the base on towards Ceyhan. Thick green grassy fields surrounded the western ends of the runway and urban sprawl had seen dwellings erected close to the base, which had occurred in the days of Ottoman rule. German officials had begun to remove most of the people in these areas to safer locations upon hearing the English threat. Tanks had been brought forward and churned up the pastures and were ready to move forward. Heavy guns were set up and hundreds more men were hurried forward. Pilots sat in the cockpits of their B-3 stealth bombers and begun their pre-flight checks. They had no idea how much England had committed to this attack but command opted for a full scale response. There was no way they were about to allow the English any foothold on the plains.

The English were hot on their heels having followed the main highway from Cebelinur and soon enough the entrenched heavy machine gunners begun to open up, their heavy guns spat forth bullets at thousands upon thousands of rounds a minute. This technology was dubbed Metal Storm, adapted to their already high tech Steyr’s, an idea imported by Rhinemetall Industries and completely revolutionized all machine guns around the world. With no moving parts normally associated with other machine guns, this allowed the deadly barrage of metal. The ‘stacked round’ technology could enable a single or rapid rate of fire and this ideally suited the heavier automatic weapons. The German military quickly latched on to this and it quickly found its way through all divisions, even out into remote locations such as Adana at a great cost to the treasury.

The British seemed to halt at this unholy assault and looked to have been pinned down. There were some troop movements off to the right but suddenly bursting down the sloping terrain out of nowhere was a sight that stunned all. Even the most battle hardened, the most senior of officers and the greenest of troops had trouble comprehending what they saw. This sight caused a brief lull in fighting, which allowed the British a moment to attack. Thundering towards them, no, galloping, towards them, were men on horseback. Men saddled up on horses with their rifles firing away as fast as they could. In this modern age it was if all time had reverted back to World War 1, the last age where the gallant light horse brigades uses was brutally ended. It was insanity, it was madness, men on horseback, hundreds of them thundering ahead, kicking up clouds of dust. At this moment, several teams of British troops had hurried forward and fired rocket launchers. The missiles screamed forth, trailing thin white wisps of smoke. Totally caught out, the Germans realised far too late. Missiles slammed into the parked Leopards and several exploded spectacularly along with their crews who didn’t stand a chance. Recovering from the shock of the horseman boring down on them, the machine guns opened up again and the result was swift and final. The storm of bullets shredded everything that they impacted on. Several tanks got moving and the gunners fired their machine guns. Artillery shells rained down on where the British were streaming from. Men flew from their mounts, their chests ripped apart, heads disintegrated, limbs were shredded. Horses suffered similar fates. It was an utter nightmare. Sensing the attack had failed, the Germans quickly switched onto the offensive and swept forth, eliminating pockets of resistance and capturing many British troops who had no way of escaping. They either had died or ended up in German P.O.W camps.

After interrogations learnt of further attempts to assault Adana, all available resources were thrown into a major operation in which Antakya and Damascus was seized and the British precense expelled from the Middle East which further threw the once great Empire into chaos as a menacing Russian precense loomed on Egypt.
 
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