Hi! Since here in Germany we have two Christmas holidays, an update is in order. Commander Danno, fear not there is a lot more to come and I will reduce the number of updates over time. so simply enjoy this short rush.

Battlefield near Mitting

Ralf Winkler and the other medics had gone forward to the ditch as soon as the screaming started. Their thinking was still too much in the civilian medic mode to check for danger to themselves first.
The guys in the middle of the line were a total loss, the checks for them were easy. For the rest of the Soldiers they were seized by pains which showed no obvious reason, so no quick remedy presented itself.
The group broke up in order to search for Soldiers which they could treat and worked themselves towards the flanks of the 1st Platoons lines. Shortly before the machine guns position Ralf found a riflemen who in his cramps had obviously broken his leg in two places-the way the leg was placed left few doubts about that.
Not surprisingly shock had set in, so immediate treatment was called for. He attached a cuff to an arm to block the Veins enough to get a needle in a vein on the back side of a hand. While he put down his backpack to look for the infusion bottle he heard a rather strange sound and looked to its source.
The machine gunner had been in the process of changing the totally overheated barrel, assisted by his number two. This had occupied them enough that they missed the infiltration of a group of scantily clad women which were just hacking his fellow soldiers into tiny bits.

Time seemed to slow down to a trickle so he could notice the leather straps holding various knives in place, the Eyes with strangely dilated pupils, the open mouths with spittle everywhere. He could later never explain how the Uzi found it`s way into his hand or the muzzle in the right direction.
The Uzi always had a bad rep for being inaccurate and for going off when dropped, but here it was what the Doctor ordered - provided it was Doctor Lektor.
As he started to fire when on one knee the muzzle climb did not just decorate the Sky immediately and most of the 30 rounds in the Magazine found a new home in one of the 5 Hags which were intend on butcher the German line as long as it was out on the Spell. That they were bunched up inside the ditch helped with that.
As the Hags were drugged to near-burnout one had not realized yet that it was dead already and tried to stab the medic through the chest. Ralf half turned to evade the trust, deflected the wrist with his free hand and in the same movement stabbed the empty SMG at the ugly face above him.
The Witch could not stop that as even the most drugged out mind could not make the shattered shoulder of that arm work.
The hot Barrel emitted a hissing sound and the Women dropped like if hit with a hammer. Ralf refused to look at the empty eye socket, took a deep breath and fell back on his training best as he could and tried to save lives instead of taking them.

Wolfgang Böhler had indeed found a much more interesting Target for his rifle: A rather strange-looking bolt thrower. A crew served weapon, he had seen it shooting 6 long bolts towards the German lines in rapid succession, it was now rewound and reloaded. He measured the height of the upper Body of the supposed leader against the markings in his Scope, gaining the range from that, adjusted for the practically nonexistent wind.
He aimed for the middle of the breast and took up the pressure on the trigger. The shot, when it came, was a surprise, like all good shots.
The 7 mm Remington Magnum may have a smaller Caliber than the 7,62 of the G3 rifles but somewhat more energy and a much flatter trajectory.
When the bullet hit a small steel ball at the tip was pushed back into the body and peeled 4 preformed segments of the bullet back like razor sharp banana peels. Expanded to several times its former diameter it not just destroyed the heart of the Elf, but pushed out most organs inside the upper chest through the back side.
Wolfgang saw to his amazement that the rest of the crew continued loading and aiming as if nothing had happened. He was about to kill the next guy when a better thought presented itself.
Waiting until the metal crosspiece was at maximum tension he directed the next shot at the bow itself. This promptly snapped in two and the resulting recoil turned the bolt thrower into the crew.
Wolfgang smiled in a way that nobody could take for humour and scanned for new targets.

Jasla was amazed to be still alive. She had successfully cast a rather difficult spell at a lethal foe, had achieved immediate success and kept it going for quite some time now. Still that had not been enough as the Cold One Knights had been massacred and she was afraid that she would not be welcome back at the Druchii lines because of that.
She had to keep up the spell no matter what, the consequences of not doing so were probably deadly even faster. Still she tried to make herself less of a target but still keep the ditch in sight.
While she was moving slowly around her foot found the cow patty she had avoided before, making her stumble.
This was enough to break her concentration, which was not a good thing at such a difficult spell.
She went down with what seemed to be a Grand Mal epileptic seizure.

Lt. Frediksen was very happy as the cramps and pains that had wrecked his body receded. They had come from nowhere and without warning and now had vanished like they came.
He took a second to organize himself and was not happy with what he saw: In the middle of his line a lot of dead Dinosaur-looking beasties were in his line of fire and they had killed 4 of his soldiers before being properly dead.

At the right flank the machine gun crew and probably one more rifleman had been butchered and the medics were looking after another one. Two of the medics came over.

"Hey Herr Lt. Sorry to bother you, but can you spare a soldier for a stretcher party, we have too many injured as it is and…"

"Meier, go with Winkler and get back to the Platoon when you drop them. And Winkler: Good job on those furies, you saved our bacon there."
He next checked weather his Sergeant had detailed a new Crew for the machine gun (yes) and if the enemy was advancing on his position again (also yes). The latter was taken care of with a quick salvo from the left machine gun and some of the better-off riflemen.
Then he remembered that you are supposed to fix your opponent on the front and attack the flanks. Checking again he saw that this was unlikely to work on his left side, but detailed 4 men to check a perpendicular ditch on the right. Few moments later some grenade explosions and some rapid shooting told him that this precaution paid off.

Frediksen´s wireless operator tried to get his attention while he looked for the group of soldiers he sent to return when the screaming started. Looking around for the cause he could see nothing immediately until he saw up.
What he saw then filled him with terror: An impossibly large, fast Black Dragon who breathed a black cloud in the direction of the right flank which had seen so much hammering already. The cloud obscured the new Machine gun team, the returned squad and one of the medics.
When it dissipated enough to see the victims again it was only too obvious that they were dead.
With helpless fascination Frediksen watched as the Dragon made a curve to finish the job.

Phönix 64

The Pilot of the MD902 Helicopter was livid. He had seen the Dragon coming, but he had no weapons to do anything about it. He had contacted the air force, but any fighter was out by 10 Minutes. He then tried to raise the Landwehr and had reached their Captain, but they were unable to raise the Platoon in the field.
Now he had to watch helplessly as the Dragon massacred the soldiers below. He had to do something about it now - he simply could just not bear to watch.
Asking his Observer to call the Army again he aimed his helicopter squarely at his opponent and pushed the column all forward while twisting the power to max.
Whatever happened now, he would not have to see the killing.

Black Dragon, Mitting Battlefield

Human Pilots usually are thought to have an attitude problem, or to put it in another way, being arrogant to boot. This does not exactly get any better when it is applied to a Dark Elf who is arrogant by definition-they think of themselves as superior of course.
When the Dragon Rider saw the Infantry flounder back and forth like small figures on a green tablecloth it just reinforced this notion, especially as he saw he had to save the foolish Corsairs from defeat.
His first approach had not been optimal, but his second one would pass the German line in one go. They could either run and be massacred by the Corsairs or be killed by him.

He had just lined up the Ditch when he saw his Dragon turn as much as the reigns allowed for. Looking in the same direction he saw a flying machine which looked a lot like a dwarf gyrocopter coming his direction and very fast.
He changed course without conscious thought and avoided the enemy by very few meters, enough that he felt a stream of hot air passing him by.
It would have been quite a task from keeping his Dragon from chasing the machine, but he did not even try. This was a far more interesting fight then poisoning some footsloggers!
The machine dropped height until it was close to the ground and then started zigg-zagging like mad, occasionally lifting to avoid obstacles on the ground.
By cutting corners he got closer and closer and saw his beast already preparing the lethal breath when the pseudo-gyrocopter rapidly gained height.
In the background the Rider saw some of the Horseless carriages coming which just slowed as they saw his might.
He followed upwards and hoped to get in range now. In order to rise his Dragon both slowed down and reared up, exposing his breast and Belly.

Captain Martensen was still looking at the Dragon in awe. Even compared to some of the biggest planes he knew the Beast had a lethal magnificence which captured the Mind.
Still this did not keep him from giving the needed order: "Fire!"

First to fire were two MG3 which were mounted on top of the Cabs of his Trucks. Against fast planes this would have been close to useless, but the Dragon was very close and comparatively slow. Tracers connected the guns and their target, but seemed to have little effect. Dragon Skin is very resistant as it had to keep, among other things, the Wings together against the stress of flying.
Much later German scientists, studying the dead creature, would find Carbon Nanotubes in the Dragon`s skin and bones, explaining part of their legendary resilience. Whatever had formed them like that, would remain unexplained far longer.
This did not stop all the rounds, but at present the effect was like shooting .22 Caliber rounds at a bull. Lethal in the long run, but presently just driving him mad.

The gunners saw this and had no choice but to keep the tracer stream as best as they could on their screaming Target and hope for the best. When the Dragon cleared the line between it and the trucks cab something totally different joined the fight.
How it came to a lowly Landwehr company was the matter of much speculation. There was a rumour that the Ordnance warrant did not deny

Transall C-160, close to the Battlefield

One of the consequences of the Weltensprung was the absence of the GPS network, something many people sorely missed only when it was gone. Many people had to relearn readying maps and orienting themselves by them-one of them the Pilot of the Transall.
He tended to trust the INS navigation system a little too much, even when it tended to "drift". The fact that the Frisian Cost, and the new one in the West, is rather featureless did not help these matters at all.
He counted the roads and major drainage ditches and matched them to his maps. When this seemed to agree to his INS data he took over the helm and brought the Plane into course, speed and height for the drop.

Paul Müller watched the ramp of the Plane drop and got the "gogogo" soon thereafter. Due to the long training he was already running for the ramp before he consciously heard the command.
When he went over the lid he had to take care of making sure the chute aligned correctly-only when that happened he had the chance to look around.
To his horror he saw that the drop was very close to a large group of "sword wielding maniacs"-this was going to hurt badly.

Captain Martensen looked at the Parachute deployment and was in shock: How could anybody be so stupid and deploy the Fallschirmjäger so close to the battle. The Parachutists would need time to prepare, but here they would not get it.
If nothing happened, and soon, then this would turn into a major disaster.

Irglier was no longer unhappy, livid or anything else, he was amazed. Amazed at the flying machine which passed close to his position, amazed at the men jumping out of it and dropping slowly by parachute and amazed at the German stupidity.
If the enemy soldiers were indeed landing where they looked like he could engage them in hand-to-hand combat and no other unit were likely to fire into this.
From this combat he could either take hostages and go or even consolidate into the other Germans if they were too close in order to help.

He gave the necessary orders to his officers and saw in their faces that this was what they needed, the despair which had begun to creep in their minds was gone - this was where he could turn the battle and avenge their hurts at the enemy.
The Dark Elves aligned their troops with the line of dropping Paratroopers, still trying to keep as low as possible.

Captain Martensen was torn between two equally bad choices: He could stay in place and try to do battle for there, it would be comparatively free of losses to his Company but would do not much good as the battle would be more than half a Kilometer away.
An all out assault against a numerically superior foe who could do real damage at closer ranges would ask for better trained soldiers who practiced assaults more regularly-it takes a lot of training to make men run directly into danger with any chance for few losses.
His men had left the Bundeswehr up to 20 years ago and while they had some training together it was not the kind which would breed the mindless following of orders which would make good cannon fodder aka true assault troops.

Still Martensen had a duty and called his Platoon leaders: " Meine Herren, we have no choice, we have to assault these assholes. Keep the autocannon back for fire support. As for the rest, we advance on my mark."
When he got the "readies" back he started the assault the only way he knew which might make these old soldiers follow-taking the lead. He resolved not to look back to check and started the sprint for the spot he had picked.

If there is something faster than light in the Warhammer Universe it has not yet been discovered by German scientists, but rumours and bad news were definitely a candidate.
The soldiers of the 31st Company were "old" and compared to 20-something soldiers short on breath. But they were also fathers and uncles and far too many had seen the remains of the Martensen children, or at least had heard of them.
The problem was not getting the assault stated, the problem for the Leutnant would be stopping it.

Lt Frediksen was running towards the "pointy ears" as fast as his legs would carry him. Any sense of tactics was gone in the burst of emotion which had engulfed him. In his case it was also a relief from his perceived failures in the first engagements.
He did not recognize when he and his men started singing, screaming the Wildgänse song - it did not matter anyway. Wildgänse rauschen durch die Nacht, mit schrillem Schrei nach Norden... (Wild Geese rush through the night, with shrill cry northward)
He could see the Dark Elves getting up from their concealment and the rearmost ones orienting themselves in his direction. So much the better, his most fond wish was to close with them and KILL. ...Habt Acht, die Welt ist voller Morden (Take care, the World is full of killing)

All of sudden there was a shock which was so unexpected that it stopped him in tracks-looking around for the magic user attacking him. He nearly started to laugh when he found he and a lot of other soldiers were stopped by an "electric fence" meant to contain cattle.
As this gave him and the part of his unit alignment he decided to do his battle from here, the distance was not too bad.
Not bothering too much with directing his unit he started to pick targets and to dispose of them as quickly as possible. The tearing sound to his right showed him that at least one machine gun team had joined in.
Still firing single shots he went through his first magazine quickly, then fumbled in a new one and looked for new targets. Wir sind wie ihr eine graues Heer und fahr´n in Deutschlands Namen... We are like you a grey-clothed host, and march in Germany´s (originally: the Kaisers) name...
The Corsair which all of a sudden filled his sight was just another target and went down, but then he felt a burn on his right arm. Looking there he saw a bloody furrow in his right Biceps, obviously left by a crossbow bolt.
Since the still could move the arm he resumed firing but wondered why the light all of a sudden seemed so bright.
He did not see the muskus running down his face or realized that he had to labour harder to breathe. ... singt uns im Herbst ein Amen (sing for us in fall an Amen)
Between the more accurate shooting of Frediksens unit and the wild bursts by the rest of the maniacs they managed to get the Dark Elves attention just fine.

Paul Müller was so amazed at the unexpected sight of the "Opas" assaulting the Dark Elves that his landing became the classic "three point landing"-toes, Knees and Nose.
He still released his parachute and then scrambled to retrieve his G36 rifle from its bag so he could defend himself.
When he finally had it out he got it on his shoulder just in time to shoot a sword wielding fury. He was unhappily surprised when it took 2 3-round bursts to stop her - the thin witch did not look so tough.
Thank God, there were not to many Elves shoot and/or assaulting his position at the moment, they were too busy getting ripped a new one by the Landwehr for that.
More and more of his comrades readied themselves and stared to fire on the "pointy ears". Nobody tried to find his unit-defending themselves was much more important.
Besides the rifle fire some of the Fallschirmjäger fired their Grenade Pistols at any concentration of Elves. Fragments and Overpressure meant that there were few survivors.
When he heard the first machine gun joining the fight from his side he started to hope that he could survive the fight.
How he would live down being rescued by the "old Men" from the Landwehr was a totally different matter.

Irglier felt exhausted about the emotional roller coaster ride this battle subjected him to. First the failed assaults, then the renewed hope of the misplaced drop and now even that had failed and his line was under fire from two sides.
At least this time he was no longer so outranged, he could fire back or assault without his units being wiped out before they even saw the enemy.
But losses mounted at a staggering rate. And even now that the humans were in range-they usually dropped to the ground to fire and presented very small targets. Still they were able to keep a murderous fire going while prone, something his Corsairs were unable to.
They had to charge or shoot standing up which made them much bigger targets. This, the better German rate of fire and the fact the Elves had not yet learned not to bunch up made for a very lopsided loss ratio.

He started to look for his sorcerers for some heavy duty firepower, amazed that they had not yet started to do their job, when he came to a small lump of trees. The little cover they gave was enough to shield from the worst of the German fire.
He was greeted by – nothing. Finally he found 5 bodies, most of his magicians, all with gaping Chest wounds or a mostly missing head. He looked around not could see anything which might be the cause. In the far distance he could see the farms so much of the fighting was about.
He suddenly saw a flash high up on one of the barns.
Surprised he jerked back, only to see the head of his adjutant explode like a ripe tomato, a bone splinter scratching his jaw.
He dropped immediately to the ground and crawled to the other side of the trees, while one of his arms men was killed by the unseen marksman as well.
This was what finally showed him that it was high time to go.

He gathered his entourage and wanted to run to the coast when finally another sorceress emerged from hiding. "Going for the boats, Mylord? Without taking your precious crew with you?"
"If we want to have any chance at escaping this hell, then they have to cover our backs. I think it is better not to ask them."
" How utterly disloyal of you - just as I would have done. If you protect me I may be able to help."
"Done."
Quickly the party left for the shore.

Lt Frediksen cursed at his increasingly clumsy hand which failed to find the next Magazine in his belt. When he chanced to look away from his line of fire he was surprised to find that there was no more ammo to be had.
When he looked up again a shadow was already close to his position. He tried to spring to his feet, just in order to stumble clumsily. He was still trying to find his balance when a hand steadied him on his shoulder.
"It`s ok mate, cool off."
He realised then that the Paratroops had reached his line. Just when he wanted to get his bearings again the world went black.

Battlefiel Mitting


Ralf Winkler was in a daze. His mind had been numbed by near total exhaustion, a close encounter with death and the horror of the farmhouse. He went back to what he trusted, his experience and training and worked through his tasks without much conscious thinking.
When he went back to the drop off point with his latest "customer" he was greeted by a sight he hoped never to see again in his life. Three inflatable tents had been erected and a doctor was screening all wounded before indicating the tent the patient was to be put to.
The walking wounded went into one, the urgent cases into the middle tent.
His patient had a horrible head injury with very shallow breathing and so he was not surprised that he was directed at the third tent.
It was filled with quiet, barely breathing wounded, a nurse administrating morphine injections and a priest.
Not giving every patient the best care they could get was going against everything Ralf stood for –and everybody else here - but with limited resources they could only separate the cases which had good hopes with fast treatment from those who would probably not make it with or without help.
This tent was for the dying.
Triage was a horror - but a necessary one now.
The Nurse looked up when he and his Co-Medic entered the tent. "Oh God, not another one. Whats happening out there? Are we loosing?"
"From what I could see - no, we are winning. From what I saw earlier you really do not want to survive loosing with these guys."

He went out again and drove the Unimog back to the battlefield. He was flagged down close to a partially flattened fence. The Sergeant pointed him to a group of soldiers "Over there, they got the Lt. somehow. He has cramps and is breathing hard."
Winkler gathered his backpack and scanned his next patient. White clammy skin, foam in the mouth, blood and mucus running from the Nose and the muscles he could see were hard as stone.
This was already the second time today he had seen this - the Corsairs had poisoned their bolts so that even scratches would kill eventually.
This was a sure killer and all he could do was prolong... Wait, one-
The next thing his Co-Medic was seeing was Ralf sprinting back to the Unimog and started rummaging.
He came back with a olive green cloth bag he hurriedly unpacked.
"Ralf what are you doing with the NBC pack? Are you sure? Are you out of it?"
Meanwhile Winkler had unpacked in Injector and put it against the Lt. leg.
After a second he triggered the injector which violently shot Atropine into the muscles of the dying man. "Ralf, I hope you know what you are doing, if you are wrong the Atropine will kill him."
"He would die anyway. The stuff the gottverdammte Spitzohren put on their bolts is potent - now he has at least a chance. There are already too many dead. Shut up and pass the Oxygen."

The doctor performing the triage did not look up from the last wounded when the Ambulance approached again. He just asked over the shoulder about the Patient.
"Unconscious, having some breathing difficulties, circulation stable but week - he got one of the poisoned bolts. We gave him Atropine and it seems to help. Middle tent doc?"
No doctor likes to hear the diagnosis from his helpers, so he was about to retort angrily when he really saw the medics for the first time since the battle begun.
They stared back at him totally unafraid, what they had gone through shifted their perception about "bad" considerably and he was no longer on the list.
"Middle tent it is then."
"Thanks doc, we are on our way then…"

Captain Martensen saw that the fighting was winding down and so did he. As long as the battle was in high pitch adrenaline had kept him up, but now he felt old beyond his years.
The Paratroopers had used the time his men had bought at such price well and organized themselves enough to form an assault.
The Dark Elves were already decimated and with few leaders which had not fled, they could not mount real resistance either. Some of them had charged the riflemen, some tried to hide and to strike from a concealed position, but the result was the same in the end.
Just when he looked a Soldier fired his Grenade Pistol into a tree, the detonation immediately removed all leaves.
Among the rotten branches tumbling down was a body dropping bonelessly to the ground. "See? Told you there was an asshole up there!" he quipped.
Shaking his head Martensen looked for the CO of the Paratroopers - there was a battle to wrap up.

Small Police Cutter W3 Sea of Claws

The crew of the Police Cutter W3 was at Sea again. Shorty after the beginning of their patrol command had contacted them and told them to look for any unusual contacts. They had been wondering at that until monitoring the Wireless showed them a Battle happening, about the last thing they had expected.
Quickly they distributed what long arms were in their lockers then they resumed the patrolling with a less bored attitude. Currently they approached a group of 3 contacts which were not moving at all, this surely counted as unusual.
Sometime later they found that the Radar blips were the Galleons that they had met the day before, but they were low in the water and they could see nobody on deck.
Repeated calling got no answers, so they decided to go around the ships before boarding or calling for help. When they rounded the stern of the lead Galleon the mate noticed rust strips running down from the back door of the Stern Gallery. Wait, wooden ships do not rust!
With this thought his brain reprocessed the visual input and also noted the red colour in the Water below the "rust stain", which could only be blood.

It was probably not the most clever tactical decision in their lives, but the crew still boarded the Galleon, much too shocked to think long about possible dangers.
They did not find anything dangerous to their bodies, their minds were a different story. The crews of the ships had been killed in a way which could not be described as slaughter, that would have been too nice. Worse was the situation of the 3 survivors they found among the dead. If - if they could be stabilized, no one wanted to presume on their mental state.

When the boarding party staggered back on board their ship, they were greeted by the boatswain: "Skipper, please have a look, I have a series of intermittent radar contacts. When I extrapolate their course they come from here, about two hours ago."

They referred the problem back to Command who told them to guard the Galleons, others would take care of the contacts.

Battlefield Mitting


And fresh for the new year, here comes the first update for 2013. Enjoy!

A couple of questions gave Captain Martensen the direction to the CO of the Paratroopers, an fit and trim looking Officer who nursed what appeared to be a busted ankle. He stopped himself from saluting, this would show the Captain to enemy marksmen and introduced himself.
"Captain Martensen, 31st Landwehr at your service. Let me be the first to say this: The Trallala driver should really buy new glasses."
"Captain von der Marwitz, thanks for the assist, we will never forget that."
They arranged for the mop-up of the battle, which mostly consisted of a line of riflemen combing the surroundings of survivors-theirs and the "Spitzohren".
As the Landwehr was mostly out of ammo their part of the battle was mostly done and they helped with carrying the stretchers back to the drop of point.
By unspoken consent they did not escort the few prisoners-that could have led to needless repercussions. "Shot while trying to escape" had a bad reputation in Germany.

Ralf Winkler also went back to the tents again to find that by now so many ambulances arrived that Triage was no longer necessary. The doctor saw them coming back and found the time to address them in private: "First off, I still do the diagnosis around here. Second, you were right-your Lieutenant will live and that is mostly thanks to you. A gutsy decision on the atropine! Third - you look like shit and I have 3 leg injuries which should go to the Leer hospital. Can you do that?"

A short call by the Wireless to their command showed them that they could indeed do that, so they took their Unimog to the road and headed to the Main roads, passing what seemed like hundreds of "blue light" vehicles on the way.

Much later that day, Meier Shipyards, Papenburg

"Ok, if nobody has to add anything, this concludes the "postmortem" .Captain Martensens voice left no doubt that he did not wish any additions.
"Then let us have a minute of silence for the fallen comrades."
Five Minutes later everybody had a beer in his hand and the Captain raised his Stein -"to absent Friends!"
"Ok folks one last thing for the evening, then we go home. I am damned proud of all of you! We met the enemy and got the job done. I can quote Captain von der Marwitz: I am alive as you were there. And a lot of other people are the same. I do not think that we need more accolade then that.
Dismissed."

The singing started in the back row but catched on immediately:

Ich hatt' einen Kameraden,
Einen bessern findst du nit.
Die Trommel schlug zum Streite,
Er ging an meiner Seite
In gleichem Schritt und Tritt.
Eine Kugel kam geflogen:
Gilt's mir oder gilt es dir?
Sie hat ihn weggerissen,
Er liegt zu meinen Füßen
Als wär's ein Stück von mir.
Will mir die Hand noch reichen,
Derweil ich eben lad'.
"Kann dir die Hand nicht geben,
Bleib du im ew'gen Leben
Mein guter Kamerad!"

(I once had a comrade,
you won't find a better one.
The drum was rolling for battle,
he was marching by my side
in the same pace and stride.
A bullet flew towards us
meant for you or for me?
It did tear him away,
he lies at my feet
like he was a part of me.
He wants to reach his hand to me,
while I'm just reloading my gun.
"Can't give you my hand for now,
you rest in eternal life
My good comrade!")

When everybody filed out Ralf Winkler stopped by him: "Captain, if it is all the same to you, I`ll visit Jan-Erics wife. Somebody needs to break her the news."

"If you want to do it, by all means. But why not leave it to the Chaplain?"

"First off, Jan-Eric was an agnostic and his widow is too. Our Chaplain will not have them on radar and they won`t have that much to say to each other. Second, Jan-Eric was mine long before he was your man and third both are my friends-I cannot give this to others. I do not want to do this, I have to do it."

"All right you have my blessings. Actually, thank you, one less visit. Ok Captain, we see each other Wednesday for the clear-up."

Helga Meier was a frustrated women. She was with the "Norddeutsche Rundfunk" and needed to have pictures and info about the Battle of Papenburg as it was already called.
Unfortunately she had come much too late for any fighting and the German army was very low on any info as usual. Like all other journalists she was told to attend après conference the next day and then was told to get lost.
Currently she cruised the streets of Papenburg with her Cameraman in the hopes to find anybody who could give her an interesting morsel of info.
Then she saw a car parked in front of a house with a "Landwehr" sticker on it. "No risk, no fun!"

Ralf met his Wife in front of the yard. After a minute or so of being silent in each other's arms Ralf asked his wife if she could drive the car.
"Yes, of course, we just have to put my bike into the trunk. But what happened to your voice?"

"Too much puking, too much screaming. Maybe a whiff of Dragons Breath. Should be better in a couple of days, according to our throat specialist. We have to drive to Jan-Eric first before we can go home."
"Is he coming with us?"
"No."
"Is he in hospital?"
"No..." Ralf wanted to say something more, but he simply could not.
"Oh my God!"

Somewhat later Ralf was sitting in the living room of his former Co-Medic and seemed to listen to the sobs and rant of Jan-Erics Widow. He was in a daze, still not really comprehending that he was alive, survivors guilt as he was alive and others were not, when one of the fragments registered.
It took him a while to recognize the voice he heard as his own as it had deteriorated further.

"No, Jan-Eric did not die because he wanted to play Soldier. Jan-Eric died because he wanted to help and because the most sadistic bunch of killers you can imagine decided that torturing and killing in Germany is a good way to spend their time.
Some hours ago I loaded a flayed alive Child into my ambulance. Jan-Eric and all the others put their lives at risk so that there would not be more of them.
This is what we do, we can no longer ask others to do it for us. We used to have allies who did the dirty work for us and whom we could despise for that - we no longer can here. Our Big Brother is gone. If we do not defend ourselves, nobody will and many more will die. Nobody of us asks for the risks, but we have to take them."

Either it was what he said, or the way he said it as by that point he sounded like dried leaves turned by skeletal hands, but Jan-Eric`s Widow at last relented.
After offering their help he could leave the house finally to get home and rest.
He just left the garden when a strong light showed in his face.

"Helga Meier from the NDR. Can you tell us anything about today`s battle?"
His first instinct was to tell that Vulture to get lost-then Ralf got the Idea that there were more ways to fight Druchii than just bullets.
"Yes, I was at the battle. I just had to tell the Widow of a good friend that he will not come again, ever. And I can tell you the same thing I told her…"

Tamins, World´s Edge Mountains

Mobob liked what he heard more than could see. The first of the few houses still held by the humies was being cleaned out. His moshers had finally gained entry there. Like any battlefield, it was loud and so the Warchief was a bit surprised when he heard music. Humie music at that! His Reikspiel was good enough to get the gist of it.

Argonnerwald um Mitternacht, ein Pionier...

Mobob had no inkling where this Argonne Forest could be, but it seemed that the humies played it to bolster their morale. He snorted, no music would save them, it was only a matter of time.

"Bergsteiger 1", over the World´s Edge Mountains, Speed 290 km/h

With the Weltensprung, Germany was now forced to overhaul the whole Bundeswehr. One such thing was the return from NATO-standard units (knots, feet) to the old Luftwaffe-standard (kilometer, meter) and the new recruits would not learn the NATO wireless slang, but the German one. The only thing kept from the NATO was "Bandits" (Banditen in German) for enemy planes, since this world had no comparable group for the German term as far as Germany knew.

It pleased Colonel Crüwell that he would open the attack like his ancestors did: With a "Wir machen Pauke-Pauke!"

It was bit cliched due to the "Apocalypse now" movie, but since they would fight against Orcs, who had problems with morale according to the books, Crüwell´s helicopter force was equipped with high-grade speakers.

When they had reached "Little Switzerland", Kurt directly recognized the situation. They were late, but not too late. So the Colonel gave order to start playing the recorded songs for the first attack run. Unlike the US war movie, Crüwell, due to having Sappers and Gebirgsjäger as ground forces with him, started with the "hymn" of the Sappers, the Argonnerwald Marsch in a long version with all stanzas. The Hinds were already well away from the Sea Stallions due to their higher top speed, but that was part of the plan. The attack helis would clear the area first.

Coming in low, speakers saturating the air with the old army song, hardpoints brimming with guns and cannon pods, the gunners just waited for Crüwell´s order.

Colonel Crüwell was amazed by the effect of the music. It seemed that the volume of the playing march drowned out most of their engine noise. For the moment the Orcs simply were unaware that their death was coming closer and closer.

He would use this gift: "Feuer frei!" Crüwell pressed the fire button in unison with his crews.

From one second to the other Mobob became shocked as one of his best mosher groups suddenly died in a wave of explosions and gore. Some were literally ripped to pieces flying through the air. A swath of destruction was being ripped through his forces.

It was only then, frantically searching for the reason, that Mobob saw the flying creatures. No, no creatures, something like the Dwarf gyrocopters! But this could not be Dwarfs! Who by Mork could this be?

The first run had been a great success and the Colonel ordered a turn-around for the second go. Kurt Crüwell had read the Warhammer books about Orcs before lift off and was cautious about Orc magic power, the great equalizer here, as Germany already learned the hard way.

So with no Geneva Convention in force and most possible enemies barbarous mobs, Crüwell thought about his men and women first. Bergsteiger 5 and 6 had a different weapon outload than the other four Hinds. Using the momentary disruption in the Orc forces, Kurt ordered a "broadside" on the Orcs by all Hinds. Now the difference became clear as among the rain of steel phosphorous ammunition was intermixed. A true firestorm tore through the Orcs, disrupting the Shamans try to conjure up counter magic.

Mobob had screamed at his nearest Shamans to do something against the humie gyrocopters. But this second strafing run forced Mobob to dive for cover, from where he saw with unbelieving eyes what happened to his forces and tribe.

One of the machines roared overhead and the Warchief threw his Morningstar against the heli, for it only to bounce off the thick hide of the Hind. Not for nothing the Russian pilots had nicknamed the helicopter "Flying Tank".

It wasn´t planned by the German force, but it was at this moment that Mobob heard one other stanza of the march, due to Bergsteiger 1 being directly above him. And the Warchief felt mocked by the humies.

Argonnerwald, Argonnerwald, ein stiller Friedhof wirst du bald...(Argonne Forest, Argonne Forest, a silent gravyard you´ll be soon)

For a moment, Mobob got a little hope back as his last intact catapult fired and hit one of the gyrocopters, but it was short lived. As his morningstar, the shot bounced off harmlessly. This was the last straw.

The morale of the Orcs broke down and a wild flight began, while the Warchief tried to organize some semblance of leadership.

Bretonnian-occupied Wasteland

It was a simple, pure triumph march for the forces of his most gallantly King of the Old World. No Marienburg forces defended anywhere. The King´s army winning more and more miles of the greedy moneygrubbers in the port city. The nobility of Bretonnia was pleased, it had been a milk run, even if there had been no chances to win glory for King and Lady in battle.
Baron Guy de Aramie, one of the more progressive nobles in Bretonnia took his looking glass and observed the vanguard which had crossed the Reik. At least the Bretonnians thought it had to be the Reik, even if the river´s position was totally off. But then again, this could be a side effect of the strange light months ago. Nevertheless, this would not stop the most honourable Army in the whole world. Nothing could stand against the champions of the Lady. As could be seen here, the Bretonnian troops were already around 150 miles deep in the Wasteland.

close to the eastern bank of the Reik

Eji Metehito was rather famous in his hometown as a master tracker and huntsman. Little surprise, that he and several other specialists were chosen by the Daimyo assembly in Kagoshima to help extend the territory of Nippon.
While the Daimyos were still unsure how far the cooperation with the strange Germans should go, in one thing both went conform: Nippon should extend her borders to the Reik. There were many good reasons to do so. At the moment this could not go beyond some symbolic deeds, but simply making others aware that the land was taken, no matter how loosely, would help.

So Eji had been underway for one and a half weeks, together with three helpers from the peasants levy, erecting sign posts and raising the Kyokujitsuki, the Rising-Sun-Flag of Nippon at strategic positions along his part of the Reik bank. It had been a strange voyage to the Reik. Considering that the Reik was quite a distance away from the core of stranded Nippon, the Germans had helped them. Several of their flying contraptions he now knew being Helicopters, had transported them, their horses and supplies within hours to the river. He still marvelled about the quality of the paintings they called photos, he´d been given for better orientation.

After doing their work, the 4 men had begun the trek back to civilisation, when Eji´s schooled ears recognized the sound of a group of people. Slowly stalking closer to the river, staying hidden in the undergrowth and between the trees, Eji pulled out his Zeiss binocular, a gift given to all the nipponese groups going to the river.
The binocular was light years ahead in sight power and quality from the looking glasses he was accustomed to. Eji was actually very happy that the Doitsu helped them, if their binoculars were so good, he looked forward to see more of their products. By the kami, their part of Nippon was ripped away from it´s proper place, making them vulnerable. Eji was thankful for any help they got.
Correcting the focus, Eji saw 12 men at the river bank and on the other side a whole army! What the...
And more, while the Nipponese did not understand Breton, the banner post they erected, with a purple flag showing stylized flowers, showed they wanted to take the land which now belonged to the Chrysanthemum Realm! This could not stand, but the foreigners were too strong.
Eji and his men took off as fast as they could. This news had to reach Kagoshima as soon as possible.

Falkenberg, Sweden, Earth

It took the mayor of the small harbour city at the western coast of Sweden quite some time to stomach what he saw. His brain simply could not accept that his little part of the World was hit by the goddamned Event hard.
Not only sat a fraking Chinese village just outside the southern city border. No, a fleet of 20 War Junks had sailed into the harbour and their leader insisted that Falkenberg now belonged to the Empire of the heavenly Emperor of Cathay! Where did these madmen come from? Their weapons were archaic, but the Chi..Cathayians were heavily armed. How could they solve this peacefully? At least Agneta, his deputy, had called Stockholm, before all hell broke loose.