I really enjoyed writing this one.
Incidentally, I'd like to say in advance that no offense is meant by this fic, nor is there any favouritism to Britain intended. This is merely a (rather cracky) 'what if.' Also, I recommend you have wiki opened when you read this. There are a few obscure historical figures in this.
Now, review replies;
TweenisodeOrange: Yeah, they can get pretty odd over there (like vore...ugh), but it's also got great fanart, so...yeah. XD Thanks for reading!
Cartooniac55: I love Linkara's inabililty to swear :D. Thanks for reviewing!
Movie-Brat: I'll see if I can write an outline tomorrow. With luck, we can still work something out here. Thanks for the review!
Zim'sMostLoyalServant: Well, I ran out of time, so I had to make a Part Three. I like bizarre humour, as you can probably tell. XD Thanks very much!
unknown20troper: I'm glad you liked it! Thanks.
13/10/10 – Legendaries
The column drove through the Dutch town of Nijmegen, heading east to join the troops on the offensive.
It was Tuesday, September 19th 1944. The Allied armies were on the advance – a large scale airborne and ground operation, Operation Market Garden, was underway. The Twenty-First Army Group, under the command of Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery, was hoping to obtain a bridge over the Rhine River at Arnhem, not far down the road. If this was opened, there would be nothing in the way of an Allied advance to Berlin itself.
Already, things were going badly wrong. German forces in the area were much stronger then initially anticipated, and the paratrooper landings were poorly-coordinated. Now, the British First Airborne Division was trapped in Arnhem, surrounded on all sides by elite SS troops. The XXX Corps, supported by the American 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, were advancing at snails pace down a narrow road that the troops had christened 'Hell's Highway.'
In one of the column's jeeps, four soldiers were talking, somewhat pessimistically, about the ongoing battle.
"This thing was doomed from the start," sighed Corporal Danny Fenton, "We should be backing Patton."
"It's still got a chance," rebutted Private Arnold Shortman, "I mean, we are pushing the Germans back…"
"Slowly," cut in Danny.
"Monty did say he had a 'special tactic' up his sleeve," added Private Tommy Pickles.
"He's probably gonna bomb them or something," shrugged Private Tino Tontini.
"With what?" demanded Danny, "All our bombers are in England and they're downed by the weather!"
"Artillery?" shrugged Tommy.
"Tried it," sighed Danny, "Didn't work."
By now, the column had left the town, and was heading down the road.
"Well, it's gotta be something," mused Tino.
The column halted, the soldiers getting a nice view of the rear of a British tank.
"Oh, now what?" demanded Danny.
He banged on the back of the tank with his rifle.
"What is this, your tea break?" he demanded.
There was the sound of rushing wind, and the soldiers looked to the horizon. Three specks could be seen in the distance.
"They look like fighters," noted Tommy, "Maybe that's his plan – air support."
Danny looked through his binoculars, and his eyes widened.
"Those…aren't fighters," he replied, slowly.
The flying objects zoomed above the convoy. There were three of them – all giant birds. Each was a different colour – one yellow, one blue and one red. They screeched into the distance, and were gone.
"The hell?" snapped Danny, "Since when were there giant birds in Holland?"
"Maybe they're from a zoo?" considered Tino.
In the distance, the sounds of gunshots and explosions could be heard. Then, the horizon was lit by strikes of lighting, fireballs and what appeared to be an ice-storm, if that were possible.
"…I think that was his plan," stuttered Tommy, shocked.
Then, all was quiet, and the column advanced.
October 4th, 1944.
Patton was livid. His mouth was almost frothing with rage. It had been very unfortunate, Veronica noted, that she'd been interviewing him when he'd gotten the news.
"How did he let that f**king Limey do it?" he demanded, yelling in the face of the envoy from General Eisenhower, "How is he outflanking the goddamn Siegfried Line, and I'm sitting here on empty gas tanks?"
"H-he has leftover fuel reserves from the recent success…" the envoy began.
"Success? They're the goddamn Limeys! They wouldn't know success if it was shoved up their ass!" boomed Patton.
"…s-sir, they-they are our allies, sir," the envoy stammered.
"Allies?" cried Patton, "They're trying to goddamn steal Berlin from us!"
The envoy had no reply.
"Anything else?" snapped Patton, his face still red in anger.
"Err…a message from General Bradley, sir," continued the envoy, "He's threatening to resign unless General Eisenhower cuts off Monty's supplies."
"Good," nodded Patton, "Tell Ike that if Brad goes, I go."
He stormed out the door.
The envoy scratched his head, and turned to Veronica.
"Sorry about that," he murmured, "Uh…he may be able to finish the interview later."
Veronica nodded.
"Should…should I take you back to your car?" the envoy asked.
"Sure, Mr…um…"
"Lieutenant Jimmy Neutron, ma'am," replied the envoy.
Veronica nodded, and followed him out the door.
October 10th, 1944.
Winston Churchill sat in his office at 10 Downing Street, an unamused expression on his face as he read the paper.
CRISIS IN ALLIED COMMAND, it read, BRADLEY AND PATTON THREATEN TO RESIGN.
He gave a snort. The newspaper (a British one) had noticeably refrained from explaining the main cause of the crisis – Montgomery. The field marshal was now well into North-western Germany, most of Holland cleared of German forces. His 'secret weapon' certainly was effective, and needed few supplies, but that hadn't stopped him from demanding more then his share of fuel and munitions.
The latter had been the last straw for General Omar Bradley, the commander of the majority of US troops in Western Europe. He had marched into General Eisenhower's headquarters in France and threatened to resign if Monty was not removed or restrained.
Meanwhile, the Premier of the Soviet Union, Josef Stalin, was frantically calling for a conference between the Allies, fearing that the British and Americans would take the lion's share of Germany. Bloody good for him, Churchill thought – the less he got, the better.
He sighed, and called for a brandy. Let Eisenhower sort out his generals, he decided. For now, his main concern was winning the war.
October 23rd, 1944.
Chester shuddered as the bunker rocked under heavy artillery fire, nearly dropping his folders. Regaining his composure, he continued down the hall and entered the office.
"About time, McBadbat," snapped Dash, crossing his arms, "Any longer and you'd be reporting to the enemy!"
There was no jest in his voice.
"Deliver them," demanded Dash, pointing to the door behind him, "I don't wanna face him right now."
Chester gulped, and walked through the door, folders still in hand.
The next office belonged to Martin Bormann, the Fuhrer's secretary. Bormann grabbed the folders without a word, grimaced, and got up, beckoning Chester to follow.
Chester's heart sank. He knew what was coming next.
Bormann led him to another room, bigger then the others in the bunker, with a large map of the world on the wall. At the single desk sat a pale, shaking and broken man.
Adolf Hitler glanced up as Bormann handed him the files.
He glanced over them, his hands shaking more as he read each word.
Then he exploded.
Hitler marched about the room, throwing accusations out seemingly at random. As he had his tantrum, Chester caught a glimpse at the report on the table.
Allies have crossed the Rhine at most points. Most of Army Group B (armies west of the Rhine River) has been annihilated – von Rundstedt and Model presumed dead or captured.
It would probably have been more correct to say something far different.
We are screwed.
November 1st, 1944.
Danny, Arnold, Tommy and Tino stood next to a jeep, standing guard over an assortment of generals. They were looking over a rise – a city was visible in the distance.
"I can't believe we're in sight of Berlin," noted Danny.
"Yeah, but if we are, why are we having a conference about it?" asked Arnold, "Why doesn't the Twenty-First just advance on Berlin?"
"He needs permission from Ike," replied Tommy, "He's here for a 'weapon's demonstration'. We'll probably keep moving tonight or tomorrow."
He pointed to General Eisenhower, who was standing in front of the crowd, looking somewhat impatient. Behind him, Patton was giving a dark scowl (having been persuaded to stay by getting Bradley's now vacant position). Nearby, Winston Churchill was lighting a cigar, an impatient look on his face. A small crowd of war correspondents and reporters stood near them, waiting for one person.
Field Marshal Montgomery walked into the front of the crowd, adjusting his black beret as he did so. He held his hands behind his back, cleared his throat, and spoke.
"Gentlemen and members of the assembled press," he stated, confidently, "What I am about to show you is the weapon of fantastic power, that shall take the Twenty-First Army Group to Hitler's doorstep."
Patton clenched his fists. In the crowd, Jimmy leant over to Veronica and let out a whisper.
"That wording isn't gonna go down well," he hissed.
Monty continued, completely ignoring venomous whisperings among the American generals.
"I am completely sure," he explained, "That this display of Allied power will convince the remaining Axis powers and assorted ne'er-do-wells that continued resistance of our might is not feasible."
"He's talking about Japan, right?" asked Tino.
"Actually, I think he's talking about someone else," replied Arnold, warily.
"Stalin," nodded Danny.
Monty pointed towards Berlin, and said one, simple sentence.
"This is the future of armed conflict."
Like vultures, the same birds used in Market Garden zoomed overhead. Now, they were joined by what looked like a phoenix and three dragons, one larger then the others (which were nearly identical, save for one being red and one being blue). At the head of them, so much smaller then the others that one had to squint to see it, was a small, pink cat creature.
They rocketed over Berlin, and began to attack the city with all force. Great flashes of light prevented anything from being seen as the capital of Germany erupted into chaos.
Monty gave a somewhat smug grin to his audience, before motioning to a soldier nearby.
The solider nodded, and spoke into a radio.
"Twenty-First Army Group to proceed to Berlin, I repeat, Twenty-First to Berlin."
The ground shook, and British infantry and tanks could be seen advancing towards the city. Darting among the boxy Cromwell tanks were three giant dogs (brown, yellow and blue), while three huge golems of steel, stone and ice marched in their vanguard.
Danny, Tommy, Arnold and Tino's jaws dropped.
Jimmy rubbed his eyes and shook his head as Veronica simply shook her head in disbelief.
Patton looked absolutely ropable, whilst Churchill looked at the advance in a combination of awe and anxiety.
If Monty's earlier grin was smug, then this one was utterly conceited.
"Gentlemen, I believe this business is just about over."
For once, there was no reply.