Hey guys this is Falloutfan158 presenting my first fanfiction, so please be kind.
French Guiana
Port of Cayenne
March 24th, 1942
1200 hours
Operation Eagle Kralle
(Operation Eagle's Claw)
Seagulls cry overhead as Vizeadmiral Hans Dönitz completes one last inspection over his invasion fleet. "This is it," the 30 year old navel officer thinks as he stands on his fleet flagship, the aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin. "The largest invasion fleet ever assembled since the Mongolian invasion's of Japan. Two heavy cruisers, the Blücher II and the Admiral Raeder, two battleships, a prototype H-class the Deutsche Stolz and a sister ship to the Bismarck, the Holstein, ten troop transport ships carrying one hundred thousand men, ten cargo ships carrying tanks, field pieces, and trucks, twelve supply ships loaded with everything the men and crew's will need, and two tankers for the ships."
He strides across the flight deck, passing the dark gray JU-52's being prepped. "Karl," he says to his aid approaching him. "Gather the commanders of the ground forces and the ship captains and have them meet me in the briefing room to go over the plan."
"Yes Vizeadmiral Dönitz." he replies, and hurries of to the radio room.
Vizeadmiral Dönitz proceeds to the briefing room, passing sailors and pilots on his way, saluting as he passes.
He enters the briefing room and makes his way over to the safe in the corner of the room. He swiftly enters the combination and pulls out a manilla folder.
It is as he is pulling them out that Karl enters, along with the commanders of the 126th, 319th, 711th, and the 715th infantry divisions: Generalmajors Von Steuben, Schmidt, Bäcker, and Petersen, along with the commander of the 28th Panzer division, Generalmajor Schneider, and the commander of the 12th Fallschirmjäger division, Generalmajor Luger, and the captains of the ships Blücher II, Admiral Raeder, Deutsche Stolz, Holstein, and the Graf Zeppelin: Captains Teller, Ulmer, Fischler, Ochsner, and Schaus.
He turns around as the last man comes in and says, "Alright men, it is time to go over the plan. In two days time we will be in flying range with the Ju-52s. Our mission is the invasion of America, and the target city is Tampa Bay." He paused taking a breath "The reason for this is it has a port that can be used by our Kriegsmarine and it is the location of a U.S. Army Air Corps training base that can be used by our planes once taken over by our Fallschirmjäger units. With the Fallschirmjäger's in control of both the airfield and the port we can get the troop transports and supply ships in and unload the men and supply's to hold the town and gain a foothold here in the United States, and possibly distract them long enough for command to seen more men and supplies to completely take the state of Florida and put it under the control of the Reich." He looks around "Any questions men?" No one answered he shook his head in acknowledgment "Very well," he says "in thirty minutes we cast anchors away and head for America."
As the ships leave the port, Vizeadmiral Dönitz stands on the Bridge of the Graf Zeppelin looking out at the angry, unruly waves of the ocean, contemplating the undertaking that he and his men were about to partake in. With this he is hopeful that the war will be shortened, possibly even ended. That is, on the western front at least. But even he could not expect what will happen in the next few hours.
Tampa Bay, Florida, U.S.A.
Tampa Bay port
March 24th, 1942
1200 hours
Operation Clean Sweep
Heavy machinery can be heard all through out the port: cranes lifting up supplies, armored vehicles, and weapons. Men are shouting orders up to the crane operators, telling them what items went where, and all through out the port were soldiers boarded transport ship and officers run to their destinations.
But there is one individual who is not working on machinery, ordering crane operators, nor instructing the troops. No, this officer is heading to the building in the middle of the port, the sign out front reads Port Authority & Harbor Master Offices. The officer, a captain, strides towards the door to the office, where two M.P.'s were standing guard, both armed with M1-carbines.
They salute him and the one on the right opened the door.
He enters the building, and even though it still had remnants of the old civilian occupants, it has a strict military feel to it. He walks the halls, and although the rooms are void of their old occupants, they now have new ones.
Military personal are now pouring over maps and intelligence reports from Africa and French Guiana.
The captain, after reaching the end of the hall, turns and goes up the stairs at the left of the hall.
At the top floor of the building, two more M.P.s are standing guard. These two, however, are armed with Thompson submachine guns.
The captain pauses as the officer on the right leveled his gun at the captain.
"Password, sir." he orders.
The captain looks at him and replies, "Roadblock."
The guard lowers his weapon. "Sorry about that sir, prevanative measures against espionage," he says.
The captain looked at him and nodded in agreement, and the guard opens the door for him.
They both salute him, and the captain enters the room. The door closes behind, alerting the two other occupants of the room.
They both are sitting at seperate desks, both trying to fix and exchange scattered papers. The man on the left is Admiral Joseph Hale, of the U.S. Navy, and the one on the right is Lt. General Adam Smith, of the U.S. Armed Forces. Both had worn out faces, rolled up sleeves, and countless stacks of papers towering over them.
The captain stops a few feet away from them, and waits for his them to address him.
"Captain Anderson, what do you have to report on the status of the fleet?" questions Admiral Hale.
Captain Anderson salutes him and says "Sir, supplies and men being loaded is proceeding as planned. At the current rate, we should be able to set sail in thirty to forty-five minutes sir's."
"Thank you captain, you are dismissed" says Smith.
Captain Anderson salutes again, and exits the room.
With Captain Anderson's departure, Smith looks at Admiral Hale and asks, "So Hale, how many ships were you able to secure for this Operation?"
"Thirty nine, most of them are supply ships carrying men, equipment, and supplies. The others are warships: two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, two battleships, and one aircraft carrier."
"How long will we have them for?" Smith asks.
"They will stay until the supply ships have offloaded everything, then the battleships will head to England, and the aircraft carrier and the cruiser's are heading to Oahu to join up with the other navel units there. The supply ships and troop ships will head back to New York to be outfitted with more men and equipment and set sail for England. What about you, Smith? What division's were you able to get?"
"Three division's," he says, counting off with his fingers. "The 1st and 2nd infantry divisions, and the 8th armored. We'll stay there as garrison, at least until HQ sends the replacement men. Hopefully we won't run into any Germans down there, but you never know. Then we'll head where ever the new orders will send us. Wherever it is, whether it be back to the states, England, or even North Africa," he finishes and looks down at the map of French Guiana on his desk, a bright red circle around Cayenne.
1245
Pulling away silently from the port, the massive fleet heads further south, towards their destination. Sentries on deck keep a constant state of vigilance for any U-boat torpedo trails in the water. The sun still shines brightly overhead, but in a few hours, as with the Germans, they could not expect what would happen to them.
Hours pass, and as both fleets make their way toward their respective objectives. They inched ever so slightly toward the Bermuda Triangle. The commanders have heard the stories and the legends surrounding it, but that doesn't stop them.
At seventeen hundred hours as both parties have floated into the rough seas. The green, misty waters tossed them around. No one can keep vigilent at their station. With a wild roar, and a flash of burning bright light, all the fleets dissapear, leaving behind nothing but the cruel sea.
March 27th, 1942
In Washington D.C. and Berlin, both operations are deemed a failure.
The Germans, after not hearing a success report from the commanders, and from reports of U-boat captains that Tampa Bay is still under U.S. control, they scramble to make up for the men and equipment they lost. It is a struggle to do so, but they manage through help from alliaces.
The Americans, after not hearing from either Admiral Hale or LT. General Smith, sends a search party out, fearing that U-boats had sunk them and the men were out there in the water. The search party finds nothing. No oil trails, floating debris, or even lift rafts. Nothing at all. It is as if they just disappeared. Disheartened, they return to port and inform their superiors as to what they found.
After they receive the report, letters are sent to the families of the men declaring that their husbands, sons, and brothers are MIA and presumed dead. The U.S. government easily made up for the loss through drafts, and all factories willing to output enough supplies to cover their loss.
Somewhere outside wall Maria
Moans fill Vizeadmiral Dönitz ears as he enters consciousness, his own groans joining the other. He weakly gets up to is feet up, and looks around the room. His vision is swimming, but he notices a group of officers crowded around the window of the control room tower. He sluggishly pushes past them to get to the window.
"W-What!" he yells shocked. The bridge staff murmur, and those who weren't already at the window make their way over. "But it's March in the Caribbean. It shouldn't be snowing..." he trails off, and after a few moments he looks at them all and asks the question that no one has the answer to. "Where are we?"
End
Next chapter two: A new world
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