Since it is Christmas, today it is a double update. Have fun!
Büsingen, Lake Constance, Germany
"... And with great joy I hereby declare the bridge over the Lake to be open!"
Applause could be heard as Winfried Kretschmann, Prime Minister of Baden-Württemberg, cut the traditional tape. The bridge was a provisory, anybody at the ceremony, be it government like the Chancellor and the Prime Minister or the people of Büsingen and Germany. Still, it was something and it brought some prestige as well. No matter the circumstances, the "Hohentwiel-Ponton- Bridge" was the biggest ever constructed on the Warhammer World. Before the Weltensprung, Büsingen was a German enclave, surrounded totally by Swiss territory. After that Earth-shattering event, the village found itself on an Island in the very enlarged Lake Constance or Bodensee as the Germans called it.
In the tumultuous first time on this new World, Berlin played with the thought of evacuating all citizens of Büsingen to the "mainland". But this never came to be. Since the raids and attacks on German territory had started, an evacuation would be seen as a sign of weakness.
But Germany´s resources, especially fuel, were needed far more urgently somewhere else than to keep contact with a small village via air and the larger ships had no harbour to use. How to solve that problem?
Rumours said it was after an action movie, that a state secretary had the idea to build a pontoon bridge until Germany had the time and raw materials to erect a solid one. It was not the best solution, but a workable one under the circumstances. So the several kilometres long bridge was completed, under the watchful eyes of some of the Old World factions, if the recognition charts on the ships close to the horizon were correct.
Istrabul, Araby, Southlands
"What do you bring me this time, Aloptep?"
"In the last few weeks priests of a new god came to Istrabul, o Spring of Wisdom. They call him Allah and as one of our Flowers of Hearing recognized when reading the holy book of that belief with help of magic, they claim him to be the only true god."
"She read it with magic? Why that?"
"These priests say that the holy book cannot be translated, because outside the holy language his true vision cannot be gleamed. After reading the book, our flower says that it is clearly a safety measure, because what those men talk about and what is written in the book are two pair of shoes, o Clement One."
"What is your opinion about this?"
"Your humble servant is unsure at this point, but after talking with Ayesha, I am convinced that this self-righteous religion is trouble in the long run. Like Breegh roots."
"Call Ayesha. I want to talk to her myself, but you two never failed me before, so I want you to prepare a meeting with these priests. I wonder if they will still be as cocky after a discussion with the followers of Kheala Mensha Khaine."
Army Airbase Laupheim, Laupheim, Germany
Colonel Kurt Crüwell cursed silently, while he was strapping himself into the gunner´s seat of his "new" Hind attack helicopter. Fucking Great! All ready for a helping mission and now knowing that you would be needed elsewhere as much...
It had been a lucky break for Germany to find out that full 14 Hinds were still in Germany and the Heli specialists in Donauwörth were working full speed to bring them into fighting trim again.
Crüwell´s newly formed Kampfhubschrauberbrigade Süd (Attack Helicopter Brigade South), as one of the early changes in the German doctrine, had already gotten 6 Hinds delivered. Together with the MBB Bo-105 (in the military variants) and MBB-Kawasaki BK 117, some Tiger helicopters, the German Sea Stallion variants already long time on Base, 2 reactivated Mil Mi-8, 6 Black Hawks from the former US-Forces and 2 Apache´s from the British Army, Crüwell´s men and women were now responsible for the whole southern part of Germany.
There was a big Helau, when one day the depressingly silent military air waves were disturbed by the call of some Swiss guys from Reichenau, part of the Township of Tamins, which turned into hectic preparations to send help to the beleaguered comrades from Earth.
Unfortunately, the Weltensprung had deposited the Swiss town from Graubünden into the World´s Edge Mountains near the Mootland, which meant quite a distance away from Germany.
So Crüwell on order from Berlin, had developed a plan with several "Tanker-Helis" and an improvised refueling stop near Averheim. Then the Hinds and Sea Stallions would deliver firepower and soldiers to Tamins and turn the tide.
Everything seemed to go perfectly, until only some minutes before the crews would man the helicopters the emergency call from a MEK near Papenburg came in. While Papenburg was not in his area, Crüwell knew his Helis would be an enormous help, if the message of a large and cruel Raiding Fleet was correct.
Knowing his fatherland would soon be under attack and his forces unable to help, soured the mood a bit. But the Swiss needed his help equally urgent.
You cannot be everywhere at once, no matter how I wish it was possible. This new World... Moment! We can spare 3 Tiger without compromising the mission and our designated airspace. Hopefully, it will be enough!
Happy that he could do something for all pressured sides, Kurt Crüwell opened a channel to the tower while running the rest of the pre-flight check list.
Winkler Family apartment, Papenburg, early morning
Ralf was a "Early riser", but even so he preferred to stay in Bed 15 Minutes or so after the alarm clock went off in order to wake up properly.
It was different when the pager went off - he was out of the house within 3 Minutes and did not spend a second thought about fuel allotment, he did not need to because of the alarm and drove to the assembly point in record time. The streets were far less crowed than before the Weltensprung, the fuel rationing until more oil could be secured taking care of that, especially at Lower Saxony´s new coastline.
Getting his uniform from the locker was old routine and he was halfway to the Garage when he shook his head, went back to the armoury and drew an "Uzi" submachine gun from the rack before going back to his Unimog.
By that time his two Co-medics had also arrived and together they packed some backpacks and other equipment on board which had to be stored separately, then they went back to the assembly hall.
The Hauptmann (Captain) was already there and gave a first briefing.
"Folks, from what we can tell we have an incursion of several hundred Dark Elves into our territory. They are currently at Mitting and are laying siege to a Group of MEK`s in the Martensen Farmstead. It is possible that they also raid the surrounding farms.
As the 1st Platoon is more or less complete you take our resident medics and make all haste to south Mitting. Evacuate all inhabitants and protect them if necessary.
Intelligence will be provided by the MEK and the Police Helicopter "Phönix 64", you can get their wireless via the emergency center, so tune one 4 meter Set to Channel 464 GU.
Supply: You do not need until the rest of the Company relieves you. Lift the Siege of the MEK if you can.
When done protect that Village until relieved. Dismissed."
There was no "ra-ra" or any other slogan before 1st Platoon filtered out of the room, this was not the way of these elderly part-time soldiers.
They went quickly to the Garage and like practiced several times drove as a column of Trucks with the Ambulance Unimog in the lead as it had siren and lights, so it did clear the streets faster than a normal truck. Only when they had cleared the town border they switched and put the truck with the first troop in the lead.
By that time Lt. Frediksen had finally gotten a connection to the Police and asked for a sitrep. A rather excited Chief told him about Dark Elves laying Siege to the Martensen Farmstead and a much larger troop of infantry and something like Cavalry assembling in the Fields north of Mitting.
Frediksen had actually been a Major in the Bundeswehr in "his times" so he was far less dangerous with a map then Lieutenants usually were, actually he was better than some younger men, now that there no longer was a functioning GPS.
He decided to stop at the Marker Heuweg-the local Village Road- and to go on from there.
When he got out of the Truck he could hear some shooting from the Farm that was his target, so he decided to get things going quickly. He assembled his Platoon.
"Platoon, listen: We will make a Line along this Drainage Channel from here to the side road. Once done we advance to contact. Put the Machine guns to the flanks, Troop 1 and 2 move alternately. Medics get 50 meter to the rear and follow as needed. Execute."
2 Minutes later the white faced Infantrymen pushed forward through the wet grass of the fields, 1 Platoon always staying back to cover the rest, then alternating after 100 meters.
After 500 Meters they encountered the next drainage ditch and took cover when signalled to halt by their commander.
Checking his Binoculars the Lt. saw a sight which could have been from a bad Fantasy Movie: A lot of very slender men and women in what looked like the S&M-Version of Medieval armour shooting crossbows towards the farm, while others gathered wood, obviously for a wet fire.
He gestured for his Sergeants to gather at his Position for orders.
Irglier was irritated-this Raid did not start well. Normally the first hours of a raid were a rush of quick torturing, killing and looting before any organized resistance could be mounted. One of the reasons the Druchii were so feared for their raids was that they did not become an out-of-control mob but kept their cool and remained organized unlike some barbarians he could name.
This time the advance party was already dead, the farm, were some gunmen were holed up, not yet taken and now a troop of some 30 Irregulars was approaching his position. Were they arrogant enough that they thought some musket fire would scatter his troops like some Savages?
His soldiers were of a different calibre: Cool in their rage, experienced in battle beyond what any human could aspire to. He and true Elvenkind would win, no question.
The problem was not to let the costs escalate, these soldiers were his stock in trade and hard to come by.
The shooting from the farm had been very mixed: Accurate enough to 100 meters or so, and strangely rapid, but the shots often failed to penetrate the heavier armour. Irglier assumed the defenders to be pistol equipped.
Now the Irregulars (they had to be as they advanced in very open order) had taken cover in some ditch. Best to wipe them out quickly and then get on with business.
He send a troop of his crossbowmen against the ditch, 50 Corsairs should be able to take these unarmored men-at-arms easily.
A few commands later an orderly block of disciplined killers marched towards the irregulars, certain to blow through the light troops with minimal losses.
The G3 rifle was in some ways quite similar like the soldiers using it now: Build in the late 60`s or early 70`s , weighty and overpowered by modern standards, it was utterly reliable when even minimal care was taken.
Likewise the munitions were from a different era. Having more than 9 times the power of the 7.65 mm Pistol ammo which had splattered uselessly against the Sea Dragon Coats and armour, it contained a nasty feature on top of that.
It`s designers had acknowledged the constraints of the Geneva convention against deforming or exploding ammo, but had made a "crimping notch" around the cooper mantle of the bullet, ostensibly to hold the bullet in the case.
It`s effects became rather clear after the bullets penetrated what personal armour there was with contemptuous ease as the bullet broke apart at the fault line and lots of Fragments fanned out into its victims' bodies. Not wasting power on over penetration like the 9 mm Parabellum ammo (which could break through several walls under best circumstances, but lacked a bit in the man stopping department) the Fragments ripped organs, pulverized bones and left a hollow zone of utterly destroyed tissue around the bullets channel.
The lucky victims died immediately, the others most often just took longer.
The Battle rifles were much too powerful to be used but with single, aimed shots. Still, 25 shooters were easily enough to decimate the Elves troop within seconds. Many of the Landwehr soldiers had honed their skills in the local marksman associations and had no problem at all putting the lead on target.
Lt. Frediksen was amazed that his enemies were stupid enough to make such nice targets, but he was willing not to look the gift horse in the mouth. The Elves lacked experience against a modern force and the Leutnant sincerely hoped the Long-ears had no powerful wizards and witches among them. From what he heard, it would still be quite some time until the nearest Imperial Battlemage could be ferried here.
Now the game of Cat and Mouse began in earnest.
Herr Hündchentreter in Stuttgart
After six months in the booby hat... erm, psychiatry Herr Hündchentreter was relieved. The first thing he did was resuming his plan to get all administrative acts he needed. Unfortunately he needed also the okay of all 16 state's police authorities with the okay of the prime minister of each state. Although he was in Hamburg, he went to Stuttgart to start there as he had heared the prime minister there was a Green. Perhaps he could help him more. He arrived there by train. After exiting the station:
Herr Hündchentreter thought: "Sex, sex, sex. All this psychiatrists could think only about sex. When I had sex the first time. With whom. How. If I was gay. Or hetero. She couldn't believe me I had no sex at all! Because I had no sexual organs. I once read in my file: "Fridolin Hündchentreter ... The patient is very difficult and had a very problematic past. He had forgot his childhood completely ... Furthermore he has sexual problems. They are so grieveous he believes to have no sex at all as he had no sexual organs. And indeed after he was examined, no sexual organs could be found. Indeed that leaves two possibilities. Either he was born without them or he was mutilated. Considering the circumstances he lived before, the latter is much more propable. However, even in the first case he had developed severe problems because of having no sex. As Freud already said..." Then I stopped reading. Heck, why are these psychiatrists thinking I was not content or had problems because of having no sex. Well, perhaps they don't know, what happens, when I kill an enemy... I am a normal chaos..."
He awoke from his thoughts after nearly running into a demonstration of a few people.
Herr Hündchentreter: "Sorry, I was in thoughts."
Demonstrant: "All say that. Especially people from the government. We are demonstrating nonetheless."
Hündchentreter: "And why do you demonstrate? I am Fridolin Hündchentreter btw."
Detlef: I am Detlef. I am demonstrating, like the others here, against Stuttgart 21.
Hündchentreter: Stuttgart 21? What's that?
Detlef: Where do you come from never hearing about Stuttgart 21? It is the problem of the century.
Hündchentreter: Understood. But I am a chaos brood. I did not...
Detlef: Aha. You are one of these autonomous. We don't need people like you!
Hündchentreter: I am no "autonomous". What's that?
Detlef: Someone to make only trouble and chaos.
Hündchentreter: Well, then, yes, perhaps I am an autonomous.
Detlef: I thought so. We don't need you in our fair fight to rescue the castle garden!
Hündchentreter: You try to rescue trees?!
Detlef: Yes. And the plants. Do you have an idea what is living there? We have here examples of...
Hündchentreter: No thanks. But with Chaos I could help you...
Detlef: We don't want your help. We don't want any chaos! We just don't want Stuttgart 21!
Hündchentreter: But what is Stuttgart 21?
Detlef: You want to help us with your chaos and pretends to know anything about Stuttgart 21? Oh you autonomous. You are only living for chaos and violence.
Hündchentreter: Yes. And you have a problem with that?
Detlef: Of course. This is a just cause. We don't want to illegitimize it.
Hündchentreter: And what does your comrades do over there?
Detlef: They are trying to throw Molotow Cocktails on the police. And?
Hündchentreter: Cocktails? It looks like fire bombs.
Detlef: That are fire bombs.
Hündchentreter: Then you make chaos as well!
Detlef: No. This isn't chaos but fighting for a just cause.
Hündchentreter: But you're using force.
Detlef: Yes. To defend ourselves. And our cause.
Hündchentreter: You're figfhting for some trees with fire bombs and you despise chaos?
Detlef: Of course. And you fight only for chaos.
Hündchentreter: Yes.
Detlef: That's the difference.
Hündchentreter: You Chaos gods, help me. Look...
Detlef: I don't have any time left. I must catch my train to Berlin.
Hündchentreter: You use the train? You're not from here?
Detlef: No. I am not. But my living place has nothing to do with this station.
Hündchentreter: And you despise chaos?
Detlef: Yes, of course. Chaos is something very bad.
Hündchentreter: The chaos gods must have become mad. Look. This is chaos you want to do!
Detlef: No. Only you autonomous want that.
Hündchentreter: And what is your profession?
Detlef: I am studying psychiatry.
Herr Hündchentreter collapsed and was brought back to Hamburg-Ochsenzoll.
Battlefield Mittting
Wolfgang Böhler did what every good sniper did – getting separated from his Company and gotten into a high position. In this case the "Owl Hole" of a Barn and was scanning the Battlefield trough his rather high-powered scope.
Of course he was no official sniper, the title was "dedicated marksman", but as with a lot of things in the Landwehr such things were handled somewhat loosely.
When he was issued his G3SG1 (the sniper Version of the G3 rifle) he took it dutifully to the range, tried to make it work properly-and then put it back to its case.
Presently he was holding his private Mauser rifle he had taken to many Alpine hunts, shooting Game over long distances, this rifle had nearly double the useful range of the official one.
He was looking for any leaders to show their ugly heads and was again unhappy that he had nobody to scan the field with a Binox for him, but was rather happy that most Elves so far had not seen the wisdom of not bunching up or taking cover by lying down.
He had already spent a Magazine on several Leadership looking types and had them ausgeknipst. Wolfgang had noted down the kills in his "shot book" during a lull in the fighting and now looked around for something else to shoot at.
Jasla was both furious and afraid-an unusual state for a Druchi of her rank-but unwelcome nevertheless. She was a proud sorceress and not used to slither on her naked stomach in wet grass like a lowly worm. Unfortunately this was the only way she could stay alive long enough to work her Magic.
Being outranged by far by gunmen who could shoot from cover was a very nasty surprise. Jasla knew that there were ways to lengthen the range of oneself´s magic, but that was nothing learned overnight or lightly. Especially when up to now only a few specialists of the various species on the world had learned such knowledge., since it was not needed much before. When she reached another cowpat she would have had to wriggle around she decided that she was close enough she send one of her sisters a mental signal.
Immediately thereafter she heard a "thrumming" sound and long bolt swished overhead from the two repeat bolt throwers of the raiding party, hopefully keeping the heads of the Germans down for the time she needs to work her spell.
Jerking upright she casted the spell that she had already prepared in her mind and threw it into the midst of the German line.
Immediately she heard screaming from the enemy when the soldiers writhed around in unbearable pain which would keep any but the most strong-willed from shoots with any accuracy. Concentrating on keeping up the spell she felt rather than heard the charge of the Cold One Knights.
This should bring the matter of these soldiers to a rather short end, even if it would be far too fast for humans who had inflicted so much damage on their betters.
Modern Infantry units keep far more distance between individual soldiers then low-tech ones because their firepower is big enough to allow that, and also to minimize losses from explosions and machine gun salvos.
As any Infantry leader worth his salt Lt. Frediksen had kept his machine guns in reserve for the main rush, not wanting to give away their position.
This was what saved the first platoon-at least most of it, as both machine guns were outside of the effects of the spell so artfully send by Jasla. The charge of the Cold One Knights followed the spell so closely that the gunners had no chance to get distracted by their fallen comrades and opened fire immediately on the cavalry.
As the Cold Ones looked quite fearsome, the Knights lances seemed to point directly at them and the distance shrunk VERY fast nobody took notice of the Sorceress which was still standing in the middle of the field.
Of all machine guns arguably the best for infantry work is the MG3, the descendant of WW2`s MG42. Relatively lightweight, durable, easy to handle and firing the same round which the G3 used for single shots, the MG3 manages 1200 Rounds per minute or more depending on the configuration.
Both gunners were so shocked by what just happened that they reverted to the Ork school of firing immediately-long uncontrolled bursts.
Even as they were both big men and had positioned well, the sheer force of the firing pushed them back by half a meter, digging furrows in the ground with their shoes all the way.
The effects on their targets were much more dramatic.
The charge of the Knights was disciplined and orderly in it`s fury, meaning the Cold Ones were charging in a well ordered block with minimal distances. What would normally insure that any infantry in their way would just be so much as minced meat, now meant that they were the ultimate target.
The bullets from the long salvoes were so close together that they actually managed to rip off limbs and disintegrate heads into bits far too small for any identification.
It was to the credit of the Knights and their mounts that they did not break off the charge and that a few reached the German line, but even so they inflicted few damages before being shot to bits-in some cases literally.
Tamins, Graubünden, World´s Edge Mountains
Mobob, War chief of the Bonebender Orc Tribe, smelled victory in the air. The resistance of the strange humie village began to weaken. He still did not comprehend how the village or better the several close-lying villages, had been erected in the three month since the tribe had last travelled through this region of the Big Mountains.
But a lone Orc should not question the gift given to them by Mork. The humies seemed to be some offspring of the Imperials, considering their language, but they were less problematic than the Emprahs tribesmen.
There was no wall protecting the houses, no wizards, no witches, no cannons,,, nothing. While they were unusually well-equipped with pistols and muskets, this had been the only reason the humies still held about 2 dozen houses in the center village. But now the fire had become more sporadic and in the last two days, Mobob and his Orcs, Gobos and other fighters had finally fought against defenders wielding axes. Their ammunition seemed to be nearly used up. He could already taste the sweet aroma of victory and pillage in his mouth.
"Reddy yousef fo the stormin!"
With pleasure Mobob saw his densely packed fighters, not some of the usual mob Orcs produced! He was a big warleader, so moshers joined his cause often. Soon it would be over.
Urs Zuralmen looked at his wife Uta. They were 2 of the 700 survivors out of 1200, but their luck seemed to have run out as well as their ammo. They had only 2 magazines for every fire weapon left. It was doubtful, if they could beat back another full assault by these creatures outside. In the first days, the people of Tamins, Reichenau and the other thorps had been able to trade space for life. Most of their hurtful losses had been incurred during the first surprise assault.
In the 14 days since the siege began, the Swiss retreated step by step, inflicting losses on the Orcs, but now the 700 were surrounded in a few densely filled houses, water and food nearly as empty as the ammunition reserves. For some moments, the mood had been high again, when Germany answered their frantic call for help. That was until Tamins found out how far away Germany now was and they, like the Germans, were in a whole new world. It was a big if, if the Germans or the Empire would reach them before everything was over.
"Uta, love, the Orcs are ready for a new assault..."
"Urs, if what the Germans told us is correct, it is better if we are not alive when the Orcs come in. Keep a bullet back, I will too."
"Uta..." Urs broke of, nodded, kissed Uta fiercely and readied himself for his last fight in this life.
Transall C-160 Course 060, speed 300 knots
Paul Müller was amazed - he was a Paratrooper, he was going into Battle and he was about to do it jumping from a plane.
While this might sound funny, considering what portfolio the Fallschirmjäger had, for many years Paratroopers got into Battle mostly by Helicopter or conventional means as jumping from planes was dangerous and there was always a period of disorganization until all troopers would have ditched their chutes, readied their weapons and meet their assigned Platoons.
The Problem was that some of their CH53 helis were en route to the beleaguered Swiss remnant, some down for maintenance or lack of parts. The lack of specific spare parts was a major issue for the Armed Forces, with the German industry frantically retooling lines to produce parts Germany got from foreign sources before the Weltensprung. In the case of the CH53, it was a bit ironic that the missing parts were of the few foreign ones built into the helicopters - the German Sea Stallions had been built in license with mostly German materials. But whatever the case, the Fallschirmjäger had to do it the old way until the helis were back.
Any suggestion of driving there, the distance between Seedorf and Papenburg was not that big, was squashed immediately - that would do no good for the next round of budgets.
So for once they would jump into battle and get the "Opas" (Grandpas) of the Landwehr out of the tight spot they found themselves in. Typical part time soldiers, having problems with a few sword-wielding maniacs.
But now the Pros were on their way to get them out.
