Realistic or Modern The Long War IC

[Rusty of Shackleford]

West Germany, 5:09 A:M
James Woodard
​

James was in his bunk, staring at the tent ceiling as the rain gently fell. He'd been on the front lines for almost two years now, and it was already taking it's toll. He'd lost almost five of his friends, most of them horribly. He sighed, waiting for the wake up call. He always woke up before then, since he had trouble sleeping. Mostly from the nightmares and anxiety. After about fourty one minutes, the sirens went off and he got up, getting his uniform and rifle ready as he prepared for the drills.

 

[Pilgrim59]

October 5, 1953 - 05:09:51
Designate: Kaiser 1-1 (Me 264 "Totlich Mama")
Oberfeldwebel Hans Weber
Luftwaffe Special Operations Group, KG-200
Qingdao, Eastern China

"Empennage and flaps are operational. Engines are fired up. Five minutes 'til takeoff. Hans! Clear the fuselage, make sure the bay is secured!" announced Josef over the interior communication device.
Hans quickly got up from his seat, having stowed away his gears, along with the crew's. Crouching along the main body of the Totlich Mama, a name given to the aircraft by the crew, Hans went over the bomb-bay and double-checked its status before heading towards the cockpit.
"The bay and fuselage is in ze green, Herr Keller. I can't wait to go home." reported Hans with a relieved but vigilant expression on his face.
"Danke, kamarade. I, too, long for home. Grab yourself a seat, opa Hans, it will be a long flight." Josef said, sending Hans to his seat.

(Shared-frequency comms)
"This is Imperial tower control to Kaiser 1-1. Confirming flight course to airbase Becker, Yemen. Weather and runway is clear for takeoff. You may lift off whenever you are ready. Ganbatte, honorable warriors of the Reich!" said the IJA's airport overwatch to the crew of the Totlich Mama.
"Kaiser 1-1 to tower. We're lifting off. Course plotted for airbase Becker, Yemen confirmed. Thank you for your hospitality." the Captain of the Totlich Mama noted, ending the transmission.

The Totlich Mama, in all her sand-olive drab coating, dragged herself from the runway and upwards into the sky, gaining certain altitudes before turning south-west towards the Middle East. She was stripped of her German decals and markings, in order to bypass the Allied fortifications in the Middle East. Existed for the sole-purpose of clandestine operations, the members of the Totlich Mama have always been careful in their steps. Though as zealous and fanatical as they can be, their strength depended on extended concealment and irregular-shock training. Stationed in China for a long time, the crew was finally redeployed home to assist with the continuing defense of the Fatherland. At this point, Berlin was only a few flights away in Han's point of view. Little did he knew, the crew of the Totlich Mama was in for a big surprise.

 

[idalie]

East Germany 5:09AM

Sgt. Konstantin Aleksov
Weak sunlight began to infiltrate the horizon, men getting up from their bunks in the frost covered wastes of their German warzone. Konstantin sat in his frayed winter coat, shivering hard whilst cupping a weak, sweet cup of Russian tea. Tipping his head forward he bathed his chin in the warmth of its steam and burnt the pads of his fingertips upon the metal. "Why isn't there any fucking air support?" He grumbled. "Just bomb Hitler to shit who cares? By the time I get home, I won't need a wife, I'll just marry Sokolov for his fucking cooking. Tell me, whats for dinner again?!" He yelled. Only to recieved hearty laughter and a reply of "Horse! Horse stew surprise."
Aleksov rolled his eyes. "Whats the surprise?"
"Ain't no horse. It's corn and bread again."

Collectively there was a groan of Russians who had heard this same exact joke for what was now the forth week. Konstantin barked a chuckle and pulled a half finished cigarette from his pocket, lighting the leftover tobacco on the nearest candle. Inhaling deep the swirling, life shortening smoke with a swig of his tea. Nevertheless the overall mood of the Soviets was down. They had little rations, little to keep warm by, and little to keep them happy. "We push these Germans back, and what do we get? Where the fuck were the Americans at Stalingrad?" He grumbled. "But the moment France is in trouble, or someone tries to steal a little oil in Arabia - they go running. If it weren't for the Japanese they wouldn't be in this fucking war." The sergeant hunched down and pulled the brim of his cap over his eyes.

Margaret "Maggie" Coleman
Maggie ducked out of her tent, wearing a coat twice the size of her and a nightgown beneath as she took her seat next to Konstantin, nudging the big Russian. "You speak too plainly. Men like you and your boys are all on leashes from high up. Some like being walked, others have to be dragged, and a few shot point blank in the face." Margaret smiled, stealing the cigarette from her associate to garner a scowl before she returned it with a stream of tobacco smoke escaping plump lips.

"You should tell your men to stop using the same whore when they get itchy between their legs. I don't want to divulge too much information, but I've seen far more of those things than a backstreet brothel. I put in for an order of anti-biotics for the entire group." The nurse giggled, giving Aleksov a push. "Can't keep complaining about America, sooner or later we'll have to buy rations off of them. Can't survive on corn and bread as a fighting man."

Konstantin glanced over attempting to seem threatening. "Put some clothes on, this ain't a strip show." Only for Maggie to laugh breathily. "You wish." Searching her pockets with a series of pats, Margaret pulled a pack of her own British issued cigarettes and placed it between her teeth, smoke wisping in fluffier clouds around the two of them.

[Open to interaction]​

 

[Grammatic]

Eastern Germany, 91st Black Forest Regiment
Colonel Rycherd Kautz

The convoy of vehicles slowly made its way across the numerous hills, the sound of their engines echoing in the distance. Rycherd sat quietly in the lead vehicle, the driver next to him smoking a cigar he had found in the previous town. Rycherd didn't approve of it, but he remained silent. There were enough things out to kill them in this world already, and no one needed lung cancer to be one of them. It was the mans own choice though, and Rycherd did not want to make him aggravated by denying it to him. He deserved to enjoy it while he could.

After several hours of travel, the convoy crested a final hill, and came face to face with a massive German camp. Figures moved about in the distance, and the sound of artillery fire boomed across valley. As the convoy approached the camp, two German soldiers approached, holding up their hands to bring them to a stop. Standing up, Rycherd stepped out of the truck he was in, pulling down his shirt to make sure it still looked proper, before walking towards the two guards. Upon seeing his rank, the two men quickly saluted.

"The 91st Black Forest Regiment has arrived, please see that my men are situated and fed. Its been a long drive from Berlin." The two guards nodded, turning and shouting orders to those inside the camp as the convoy continued its way inside. Rycherd folded his hands behind his back, walking in beside them.

Soon, it would be time to take the fight to the Soviet's. Soon, Rycherd would have his vengeance.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Dmitri
​

Dmitri had been awake long before most of the others, cleaning his rifle to make sure he was ready. Once he finished, the others were up, and he spotted Konstantin and Margaret sitting together, deciding to join them. "Hello, comrade. You sleep well?" He sat beside Margaret, getting a cigarette out and lighting it. He actually had a lighter, but he'd spent so long lighting other soldier's cigarettes it was almost out. No matter. He'd probably get another one off a dead German at some point. He looked at Margaret, saying, "It's funny to see a doctor smoke, eh? It's bad for you, though I am a hypocrite."
idalie

 

[idalie]

Margaret "Maggie" Coleman
The nurse looked at the younger Russian and flicked his nose. "Don't go telling me how to live my life, Mr Markov. It's my motto that we should enjoy ourselves to the fullest before we die, and I think I'll do exactly that since I'm not getting home anytime soon." She mused, blowing her cigarette smoke into his face with a playful twist of her lips. With a small shove, she ended her teasing of Dmitri. "I suppose I'll die out here, and not even a husband to my name." With a tittering giggle, she tilted her head back to sweep those messy, dark curls from her face.

Margaret then continued to bundle herself up further in the thick, Russian coat with an exaggerated shiver. "Mm, I have a horrible sensation in my stomach which tells me I'll be I'll be speaking German by the end of the year. It makes me feel quite sick. Imagine being called Herr or Fräulein. Those Krauts used to have such a wonderful country, my father told me of Berlin back when it was still the Weimar Republic." She sniffed, rubbing at her nose, which had turned a light shade of pink. "What a shame that awful man is in charge. If they'd been quicker about starting this war, when that snake of a man became Chancellor, we wouldn't be having this silly fighting." The nurse tutted to herself, tapping her cigarette on the side of her wooden stool.

Konstantin Aleksov
"You don't stop talking, do you, Maggie?" Konstantin remarked in exasperation of the continual chatter. Only for the nurse to sniff and reply 'Well you don't stop complaining. It's either about the Americans or the Germans! Why not complain about Switzerland? They're not even fighting!' The sergeant could've rolled his eyes all the way back into his head. Nevertheless, the small medic was useful as was she irritating. "Anywho, good morning Markov, I slept well enough. We need more gas for the lanterns, or at this rate, we'll freeze come winter. Or just have to burn Maggie. She's already a pile of sticks and bones-" The Russian received a punch, only to shoulder it and laugh. "Who'd want to marry this witch? Beating on poor soldiers like some sort of SS officers wife!" Which again, got a list of insults from Margaret.

Konstantin turned his head downwards a moment. "If I'm honest, so close to Berlin, winter coming in - the supplies scarce ... we can't hold our position for more than another month. And that's precarious. If the Germans attack now, the men we'd lose trying to hold our ground wouldn't be worth it. With Stalin dead, and this - Khrushchev, in charge - I'm not sure what'll happen. Stalin always managed to get us supplies. He was a good man."
​

Rusty of Shackleford

 

[Minyari]

October 5, 1953 - 05:47:21
Designate: Kaiser 1-1 (Me 264 "Totlich Mama")
Oberleutnant Josef Keller
Luftwaffe Special Operations Group, KG-200
Qingdao, Eastern China

Josef kept his hands on the stick, his eyes watching through the scratched glass windows like a hawk. The constant, loud sound coming from both sides of the air craft from the engines were manageable as he had his headset over his ears. Giving a glance around the cock pit as he swiftly looked over the displays for any problems before removing one hand from the stick and to his comm switch, broadcasting over the crew's line.

"Keller to crew. Our flight is one of many as we head back to the Fatherland to defend our rightful lands from the enemies of the people! We shall be taking a similar route to when we left Germany towards China. Stay alert and ready, we're leaving friendly air space."

Removed his hand from the comm switch before communicating to the captain that he'll be checking the navigation once over, relaying the message for the captain to take over before removing his hands from the stick and unbuckling his seat belts. Walking towards the third seat in the cockpit, located directly behind the co-pilot's seat, Josef took a seat as he examined the already preped map on the table. Using the navigational tools on the table as provided, he quickly double checked the flight's route to each airbase and calculating any mishaps before getting up once again to go check on the rest of the crew.

 

[Pilgrim59]

October 5, 1953 - 07:26:36
Designate: Kaiser 1-1 (Me 264 "Totlich Mama")
Oberfeldwebel Hans Weber
Luftwaffe Special Operations Group, KG-200
Indian Ocean

The sky was as calm as the vast blue below. The Totlich Mama had entered the Persian Gulf, gliding low among the Omani cliffs and coast. Its crew, awoken by the sunlight beaming through the windows, got up and casted their eyes upon the glories of God's creation.

"Welcome to the Middle East, gentlemen. Take a good look, and get ready, we'll be landing within ze hour."
announced the Captain over the comms.

Getting up from his slumber, Hans dragged himself over to the window, just pass the navigation seat. There, he dwelled in the sight of dotted green lush, and the vast desert in the horizon, battling the blue sea for supremacy of the bright, vivid landscape. Hans went over to Keller, who had tucked away his plotting devices and maps.

"What a beautiful sight. A welcoming view, dwelling in its grandeur - isolated from this war-torn world, herr Keller."
Hans addressed the co-pilot, whose soothing expressions were foreign to the keen veteran's demeanors.
"Perhaps one day when we have achieved victory, I would expect you to have settled here, opa."
replied Josef with a smile on his face.
"You really still believe that, herr Keller?"
"As should you, opa. Don't let the Schutzstaffel catch you saying that."
"Not a chance."
The two chuckled lightly.

Staring out the window, he could see the clouds clearing its way northward, drifting among the cool breeze. In the distance, a pair of distinct birds closed in from the clouds, making a path towards the Totlich Mama.

"Hey! Hey!! I have something starboard side."
yelled Hans, alerting the rest of the crew.
"Scheisse, the Tommies must have adjusted their patrol schedule. Achtung station! Everyone to your positions!"
commanded the Captain, prompting everyone to their positions.

(Radio-comms)
"Be advised, unidentified aircraft. This is Captain Hawkins. You are violating the Royal Persian airspace, while utilizing a German aircraft. Please state your designation and plotted course. Over."
one of the Hurricane stated as they aligned their positions parallel to the Totlich Mama's port and starboard.
"This is Captain Smith of the Flying Bison. We are an American transport from Okinawa, our destination is Karbala. We are bypassing the Gulf, due to worsening conditions in the south. Over."
the Captain replied with a rough Texan accent.
"That's going to raise quite a few eyebrows, Captain Smith. Please stand by, while we confirm your flight, over."
"So... um... what did you say your departure point was, Captain Smith?"
"Okinav-*cough* .... Okinawa. Okinawa, Captain."
"You've got the next five kilometers to put her down, Captain Smith. Acknowledge and comply, or we will fire on- "
"Captain! I'm seeing a bomb-bay and no Allied portholes! They're Jerr- !"

"HANS! ACHTUNG! FEURE!"
yelled the Captain of the Totlich Mama over the comms, as another pair of aircraft approaches the area of operation.

BRRRR BRRRR BRRRRRR
Hans opened up the portside hole and quickly squeezed a few bursts at the Hurricane with his MG-15, cutting its right wing up, sending the aircraft into the depths of the gulf. The other Hurricane would break their flight path and circle around for a starboard dive.

"Port-side Contact Down! Friedrich! Get those Tommies on the right!"
Hans yelled, looking over his shoulder, as his starboard gunner fell to the floor from the Hurricane's fury, with holes dotting the aircraft's fuselage.
"Friedrich is down! Friedrich is down! Someone man the starboard side!"
"Herr Keller! We have to lose the bombs! I'm seeing more of the- "
"Verdamnt! Schneller! The next strafe will take us all out!"
"The clutch is out of action. The last strafe must have taken it out. Opa Hans!"
"Already on it!"
yelled Hans as he manually pry the bomb-bay open with his pickaxe, just in time for the British planes to do their gun-run.

RATATATATATA RATATATATATATA
B O O M !
The last bomb barely made it out before exploding mid-air by British fire. The Totlich Mama swirled forward from the blast, while tilting leftward, having lost her rear flaps and bomb-bay. The Captain was instantly killed when one of the aircraft dove in on them from above. Josef pulled himself over to the cockpit and veered the Totlich Mama away from the cliffs, disarming their landing gears and left wing. Hans continued painting the sky with green tracers that would eventually ignite one of the Hurricanes on fire and blow up, while the other loses its control, crashing into the sandy beach. The engagement lasted for another fifteen minutes or so towards the mainland, before the Totlich Mama started banking left and right, losing her aerodynamic drift.

"MaCHt sCHneLL! In DeCkung! BrACE fOR ImPacT, kAmARaDen!"

Josef cried, as everyone grabbed tightly onto the closest thing they could find. The Totlich Mama glided over the sands a few hundred meters bare, before bumping hard and breaking in half. Most of the rear crew fell out or remained in the tail section before it explodes. The front half remained intact and drifted a few hundred meters out before coming to a stop.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

West Germany, 5:09 A:M
James Woodard
​

James sighed as the drill seargent checked the men, yelling at a few for having an unloaded rifle or something of that nature. After they finished, they went to eat, James keeping to himself. He didn't want to get attached to anyone, since he knew they'd probably get offed at some point. Once he finished, he went out on patrol, talking the whole way with the guys he usually patrolled with. Just as they were turning back, shots rang off, and two of the men fell down. Before James and the other one could move, Germans popped up from behind the bushes, telling them to surrender. The other guy resisted and got shot, while James reluctantly surrendered, a German knocking him out with the butt of his Kar-98.

 

[The Omen of Death]

Kvetoslav Vergunov
​

Kvetoslav sighed, another day another day checking up on troops, it was weary to see the men like this with little morale and little chance of making it past the wall. But all they truly had was they're numbers... What the hell were they going to do? And if they were to move out again for another suicide charge, he knew his job, make sure they continued to charge unless the officer who ordered it decided to pull back, otherwise he would have to gun them down... It was what he did since the start of this long war, and it was taking its toll...

Having been an officer of the NKVD under Stalin and now an officer of the MVD under Khrushchev, he was expected exactly to do as he was ordered too without mercy or anything of that nature, technically the only true benefit was the fact that they were a bit more elite and as a result got better weapons, as shown by the fact that he was able to carry the new AK-47 and Makarov Pistol. And a good life for his family, but that was about it at this rate.

He was tired and wasn't in the best of moods.

For the time being in this downtime though, he decided to take a small walk though, taking a deep breath, he stepped outside, getting cold glances from his men, wearing the distinctive royal blue hat and uniform of the former NKVD and now MVD until a new uniform was issued was always a hated figure at this rate. But he didn't care for it right now... Now his attention was focused on trying to gain some composure.

(Open to interaction, if nothing happens I will just drop by the area the others are at.)

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Half-way to East Germany, 12:30 P:M
Henry and Jack​

Henry had been awake for a while, looking at the new guy in the truck. It was just them, which was suprising for Henry. The other guy was out cold, Henry nudging him awake as he woke up. James blinked a little, saying, "Huh? Where am I?" Henry smiled, saying, "Halfway across Germany, friend. I'm Henry. You?" James nodded, saying, "Jack. Pleased to meet you." They rode for a while, chatting about where they were from and how they got there. Then the truck stopped suddenly, Henry translating the German as "The truck hit something and won't start." Henry smiled, saying, "Well, our trip to a prison camp's been delayed, huh?" Jack nodded, getting a rosary out of his pocket as he began sharpening the cross, ready to stab one of the soldiers and get a key to escape.
ReverseTex (Go wild!)

 

[ReverseTex]

Henrick Hans
12:30PM
Rusty of Shackleford
Henrick sat in the driver’s seat of a large work truck, sharpening his bowie knife. The rote fashion of the task had began to grow quite blasé, and the fact that he couldn’t turn the radio on didn’t make it any better. But, the sound of a grumbling engine drew the Dutch man from his task. Turning the key, he gased the truck, just as the German truck crashed into the back of his.
The drivers compartment was left in tact, but the tail end, which was covered by a cloth roof, was now crumbled into the German’s engine. Hendrik quickly hopped out, and in his practiced German began to rant. “My bad good sir! I had been pulled over trying to fix my engine and I had just finished, so it was slightly more active!” The German soilder didn’t take to kindly, shouting for his papers. Henrick and nodded obediently, reaching into his trench his grabbed his Mauser, and smiled.

His first shot at the first German, hit him center in the forehead. Dropping like a sack, Henrick quickly dove towards the next, slamming the butt of the gun into the man’s temple. The other two men had quickly gotten themselves together, only making the last two shots easier, which both landed in the chests of both men.
Tucking his warm gun back in it’s breast holster, he adjusted his trench’s collar. Walking over to the German who had the key, he made his way to the back of the truck, and pulled open the tarp. “Good afternoon gents, i’m with the Royal Marines.” His bubbly Dutch accent was oddly filled with hints of a English, due to the diverse population of Saint Martins. ​

 

[The Omen of Death]

Vikram Rauniyar
West Germany
​

Since the Gurkha's and other Indian units were called into Germany, due to the stalemate of the war and the need for the hardiest units the British could assemble, the German's for a while had been living in fear at the thought of being killed in their sleep, or going out on lone patrols, or anything of that nature. Now the Vikram's small squad was simply asked to go out on a patrol, and make sure everything was clear, the usual. It was early in the morning, so they had the advantage of stealth, something the average Wehrmacht soldier didn't have. Now trudging silently through the darkness wearing their distinct slouch hats and carrying their rifles and distinct 13" GIS 4 Kukri's, the silent group of 4 including Vikram himself, was consisted of mostly veterans of the whole war, around Vikram's age, because once the war started or just before the war started most 17 year old men in Nepal rushed to become Gurkha's after training for most of their lives so as to try to make their lives better than their parents. And to be paid way better than that of someone in Nepal would expect in their lifetime, even if it still wasn't a lot compared to the usual British soldier... Although recently they had a relatively fresh new recruit in their squad, but even with him being new he still was trained like a Gurkha and wasn't that much different than themselves.

"Sōcnuhōs hāmī yō cām̐ḍai kēhi bhēṭṭā'una jām̐daichau?" (Think we are going to find anything this early?) The relatively young new one asked quietly. In Nepali, the fact was that Gurkha's tended to come from tribal like areas so they usually spoke 3 languages overall, their local language, Nepali, and English to obviously communicate with British and American troops. "Baccā, tapā'īṁ pahilē hāta sikna jām̐dai hunuhuncha yadi tapā'īsam̐ga pahilē nai chaina ki yahām̐ kēhi pani huna sakcha. Tapā'īṁ basa yasakō lāgi tayāra hunu parcha." (Kid, you are going to learn first hand if you haven't already that anything can happen out here. You simply have to be prepared for it.) One of the others told him.

Shortly after that, there was the distinct sound of rifles going off and some yells from those hit by the bullets. So Vikram silently signaled for them to halt and to be quiet for a moment. He then quietly stated. "Ṭhīka cha, hāmī tyahām̐ tyahām̐ jām̐daichauṁ ra tī bandūkaharūkō khōjī garna jām̐daichauṁ. Ma mā, kurā nagarnuhōsa ra cupacāpa mā jānuhōs." (Alright, we are going to go over there and investigate those gunshots. On me, don't talk and move quietly.)

And so they moved quietly but quickly, over time hearing one more gunshot, to mark their location. And in a short amount of time after that, they made it over there and saw the situation, German's were capturing some American troops, they were too far away to identify what division they were from though, all of the men were either dead or unconscious, so they had to do something.

Well, the men instinctively knew what they were going to do, they very quietly slung their rifles and unsheathed their kukri's. And then Vikram stood up, and unleashed a blood-curdling war cry that simply signified the death-flag too all enemies of a Gurkha.

"JAYA MAHAKALI, AYO GORKHALI!" (VICTORY TO THE GODDESS GREAT KALI, THE GURKHA'S ARE HERE!)

The German's suddenly turned to the charging Gurkha's with fear etched onto their faces for they knew what was coming from the stuff of legends...

And then in something akin to a horror movie, the sounds of gunshots rang in the air and seconds later these were replaced by screams, then everything went completely silent.

The group cleaned off their kukri's of the blood and guts spilled on them, and sheathed them, now checking up on the American's all the while ignoring the German bodies, "Sara, yō dēkhincha ki sabai Amērikiyōṁ marēkā chan." (Sir, it appears all of the Americans are dead. They also appear to belong to the 101st Airborne Division.) Vikram grimly nodded, but he was over one American, he checked to see if he had a pulse because he didn't see any visible bullet wounds. And he was slightly surprised to see a pulse from this one. "Hō'ina, parkhanuhōs, yō nētākō jastō dēkhincha jō yō ajhai jīvita cha." (No, wait, this one who appears to be their leader is still alive.)

He then slightly slapped the man's face to see if it would wake him up and said in English, in an accent that was an interesting mix of a Nepali and British accent from where he learned English from. "Hey, you ok? Can you wake up and move or hear me? I don't want to have to pour water over your head." He said being a bit sarcastic about the situation, even though he was serious about pouring water over his face if he wouldn't wake up. If the soldier would wake up he would awake to butchered German soldiers all around him and the tiny Gurkha's now glancing at him seeing if he would awake.

Rusty of Shackleford

 

[Grammatic]

East Germany-German Forward Command
Colonel Rycherd Kautz


Rycherd grimaced, listening to the General as he finished his briefing. Around the room, a few other officers nodded their heads eagerly, though most showed similar signs of dismay and anger that Rycherd did. They had just been through a three hour long briefing on the Fuhrer's plan for the war in the East, and the objectives and time tables stated. Putting it simply, what was being asked for was insane, and without a doubt would be a near suicidal mission for all those involved. This in itself was not all that surprising for the Eastern Front though. Many officers knew the East was where the Fuhrer sent the officers he couldn't completely trust to fight and die.

Rycherd had believed for a time that those rumors weren't true, and that many were just exaggerating the claims. Poor military leadership on the front perhaps, or lack of sufficient planning and supplies leading to extraordinary casualty rates. Now though, Rycherd knew the truth.

They had all been chosen to die for Germany, whether they liked it or not.

As the briefing ended, Rycherd was one of the first officers to exit the tent, storming out and making his way back to the 91st's camp. His men were quick to salute him as he passed, though Rycherd ignored them all as he entered his own tent, throwing it closed.

 

[idalie]

Sgt. Konstantin Aleksov & Margaret "Maggie" Coleman
The Russian forces were relatively on edge. The quiet was never a good sign, and it'd been that way for months. Although they weren't about to let their guard down in the predicament they'd found themselves in. A shout went up, somewhere North of the camp - harsh and hoarse. Talking about a prison convoy, gunshots and men in German uniforms. Soldiers leapt to their feet, including the sergeant who began pointing at his selected relay group. "You, you, you, let's go! Grab your things! The Red Army isn't done yet!" Aleksov bellowed, clapping his hands together. Dropping his cig-butt to the ground, he crushed the embers beneath his heel into the cold soil. Rifle's slung over shoulders and ammunition tucked into belts. In big, issued winter coats. Konstantin whistled, motioning them toward himself and forwards.

Margaret in the initial panic had pulled on her ill-fitting trousers (the only pair the Russians could find for her size) rolling the excess up to her mid-calf. In old boots, and long, itchy cotton shirt she belted her winter coat and dragged the brim of her red-cross cap low. Alas, one could deduce from her height and curves that she was a woman from a mile off. Hitching her medical bag up on her back, she chased after Konstantin, grasping her combat knife tightly in her fingertips before shoving it into a pocket.

Trailing after the march of men who had twice the stride of her, Maggie seemed in a constant state of breathlessness. However, no matter how much Konstantin asked, or persuaded, she stuck to his side in refusal. Making the argument of "What if's" Which was infuriating to no end.

Through the countryside they trudged, keeping quiet as they waded fields of bombed-out wheat. "Where were the shots?" Konstantin eventually murmured. The Russian grouping pausing as they began to navigate between one another. Alas, there was nothing but crickets chirping. Again they began forwards, hitting the road. A good five minutes tracking the snaking bends, ready to give up - they saw the crash. And then the men. Immediately, there came a shout of heavy Russian as few hit their knees taking position. Rifles lifted. And of course, Margaret using Konstantin as a human shield.

"укажите свой бизнес!" (State your business!) Aleksov bellowed, eyeing the bodies on the ground. Still bleeding with the occasional twitch of the nervous system. Crimson puddles beginning to coagulate in the afternoon temperature. Maggie leaned forward and examined one of the few men still in the back of the German transport. A gasp escaping her as she did an odd little run, considering her current predicament swathed in her big jacket.

"That uniform! You're from Britain! RAF!" She exclaimed. Pushing up her cap which had slipped onto the bridge of her quaint nose. "Have you heard news from home? When did you come down?! How is it?!" ​

Rusty of Shackleford ReverseTex

 

[ReverseTex]

Henrick Hans
12:30PM
Rusty of Shackleford
idalie
Just as Henrick finished unlocking the two men, he heard the sound footsteps. Raising a finger to his lip to signal to the two to be quiet, he slowly stepped from the back of the truck. Making his way to see a large squad of Russians, and a woman who appeared English, he smiled. “Я согласен с вами, это грустная история!” (Good day ladies and gentlemen!) Henrick smiled, gesturing for the American and Brit to exit the van.
Just as he was about to continue, the woman exclaimed her recognition of the Airmen’s uniform. A wave of relief rushed over him, seeing as he didn’t need to use force. Clearing his throat, seeing as speaking in his practiced Russian hurt his throat, he switched to English. “Madam that is information the Airmen isn’t allowed to publicly disclose, from Churchill Also I wouldn’t fret over the Germans, they’re quiet dead.” His Dutch-English accent most likely confused the group, something he could hardly care less about. His icy eyes scanned the convoy, slightly weary of speaking further. ​

 

[The Omen of Death]

Kvetoslav Vergunov
​

The somewhat clear air outside helped to clear Kvetoslav's mind, anything to avoid the crap he had to deal with on a near daily basis, he was about to head back when he received a report from a fellow MVD officer of gunshots, and a crash of some kind, in the distance, just the type of thing to set off already on edge men... He sighed, men were on the move to the location like first responders to a fire. This was the type of thing he needed to be in the know about, so he got the lesser ranked officer who gave him the info and two other soldiers of the MVD to follow him to the location to figure out what was going on and make a decision for the Red Army, considering there would probably want to be some political involvement in this and whatever it would be decided to be done.

As it seemed it was a long walk there, making their way through the fields of wheat that were now bombed out and burnt, and the battered remains of small buildings or other assorted things and the long winding road. Finally now making it, where there was the crash sight as well as a truck holding people themselves. The Soviet troops who were now there as per being on edge had their rifles ready to open fire at the possibility of something, and Kvetoslav saw the female British nurse hiding behind the Sgt. in command of this small squad for now, he had heard about her, but considering he had other things to do he hadn't had the time to see her or any of these men. Now he had to assert his dominance over the situation, and figure out what was going on. But first he wanted to try to deescalate the situation, since it was obvious it was not an enemy.

"Спокойно, товарищи!" (At ease, comrades!) He ordered in Russian calling attention to himself and ordering his men to lower their weapons, as he approached he heard the man change from Russian in an obvious practiced and foreign tone to English in a Dutch accent even though he couldn't hear the specifics of what he was saying as he had approached, Kvetoslav was comfortable with this and began to speak fluent English however with a Russian accent. However he couldn't help but notice the man's glances around him, Kvetoslav himself didn't yield in eyeing him, analyzing him, scrutinizing everything he did like that of NKVD officers of before.

"Hello, is English what you are most comfortable speaking at the moment? I am Senior Lieutenant Kvetoslav Vergunov of the MVD, may I please ask who you are, and what has happened here?"

Rusty of Shackleford idalie ReverseTex

 

[ReverseTex]

Henrick Hans
12:30PM
Rusty of Shackleford
idalie
The Omen of Death​

Henrick’s comfort level in the situation gratefully increased when he saw the Russian officer make way to the group. And losing the his hearty tone, since this was strict buisness, he was more reserved when he spoke.

“I can speak whatever you like, but yes English is preferred.” Tucking his hands casually into his trench, he nodded as the Russian gave his full title. “Kolonel Henrick Hans, NMC combat intelligence officer, but working with and for the British at the moment.” The other two men were awfully quiet, so he decided he would explain the situation himself.

“I was sent here directly from London to handle the recapture and recovery of both of these men. Which involved some slight creativity, as you see here.” Gesturing to the scene that had unfolded, he continued. “But I was aware of the female here, which by the way Churchill sends his thanks to you madam.” Giving her a friendly nod, he continued back, for the Russian. “So I will be needing the three of them, along with a new car. I have proper papers that will allow me back through East Germany, but for the rest of them we need to take a much more lucrative approach through.”

 

[idalie]

Sgt. Konstantin Aleksov & Margaret "Maggie" Coleman
Noting his senior officer, Aleksov slowly began to tip the barrel of his gun down and wearily eye the allied group. Watching as Maggie made her excited jog toward the British airman. Of course, Konstantin wasn't exactly blossoming with trust unlike his associate Miss Coleman. Those cold, murky blue-ish irises flickering toward Kvetoslav. The big Russian wasn't exactly enthusiastic in his expression to meet the Dutch spy. "Hmph." He shrugged up his shoulders and adjusted the brim of his cap. It was well known, bears weren't friendly - and this one would rather remain in his cave.

Margaret waved her hands with a sound of 'Pshht'. "I want to know what's going on in London, and no rotund man in parliament can stop me." The little nurse declared, defiantly jutting her chin out. Although upon further listening into the discussion, between Henrick and Vergunov (a Russian who had the sort of coldness in his gaze it caused Coleman to shudder), Maggie then put a hand on her hip. "I'm sure Churchill sends his thanks, Mr Hans. He sent his thanks when my father perished, and brothers too. But how do you suggest we get through the countryside where German patrols and pockets still remain? There's not enough money or gold in the world!" She let out a long sigh. "And my name is Miss Coleman. Margaret Coleman. I expect it to be used as such instead of 'female'."

The sergeant stepped up, giving Margaret a punch on the arm. Lightly if not in camaraderie. "Always complaining." He rolled his eyes back. "I'll see you again someday, Маленькая медсестра. (Little nurse.) For now, you go with the man. And don't start whining, you're like a child when you whine." Silence hung between them a moment before he reached into his pocket for a pin; a wreath with a hammer and sickle in the middle. Pushing it into her hand, Konstantin shot a rare smile. "You come to Moscow when this is all over. For a Brit, you're not too bad." Aleksov was then ambushed by her tight hug. Arms wrapped around his burly figure. Peeling her off, he awkwardly gave the tiny woman a pat on the head. "You've still got time. Don't make me cry because of early goodbyes. It makes my knees weak."

Maggie rubbed her thumb over the little badge and sniffled - partially because of her cold nose, and partially because of her sorrow to depart the Russians she'd been aiding. "Well, Mr Hans. We'd better find that car."
​

ReverseTex Rusty of Shackleford The Omen of Death

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Jack and Henry​

Henry nearly shanked Hans when he came to the back of the truck, then hearing his words as he got out, Henry smiling as he said, "Thank you, mate! I was getting about cramped in there!" He stepped out, Jack getting out with him. Just as their cuffs were removed, the two heard Russians, the two ducking as they saw the soldiers. When Henry saw Maggie and heard her, he smiled, saying, "It's good to see a fellow Englishman out here! How'd you get in with Russians?" Jack was just about to leave, but his superiors were suspicious of the Russians, so he stuck around. Henry shook his head, saying, "No unfortunately. Last I heard London wasn't doing well. That's all I've heard." He extended his hand, saying, "Pvt. Henry Danvers of Her Majesty's Royal Airforce, pleased to meet you, Miss."
idalie
(I'll do James' and Dmitri's post later. I'm way too busy.)

 

[Pilgrim59]

Personal Entry Record
Crash Day 1953 - Midday
Flieger Dieter Muller
Luftwaffe Special Operations Group, KG-200
Unknown, Arabia


Waking up to the boisterous sounds of a passing aircraft, Dieter dragged himself from what's left of the Totlich Mama over to the cockpit, gently patting the motionless bodies for any signs of survivors. His head was drumming left and right, accompanied by a slight stinging sensation from his left leg - causing him to fall over Hans' body.

"AHH!"

The veteran exclaimed as he returned to life, grabbing tightly onto Dieter's arm. The two looked at each other briefly, breathing heavily.

"Danke Gott. You're still alive, opa Hans."
"Call me grandpa one more time.... I'll shoot ya myself, Kinde."

Dieter, shaken by his words, expressed a grim look on his face. He then groan in pain, with his gray trousers painted crimson. Hans got up and withdrew a first aid kit from the cockpit, while checking on Josef, who was barely conscious. Hans went over to Dieter and tore the latter's trouser open around the affected area and administered some hydrogen peroxide. Having done so, he would apply some clean gauze and finish wrapping up the wounds with some clean linen bandage.

"Tough it out, kinde. No morphines for you."

Hans said, tucking away the scantily-prepared morphines into his rucksack. Grabbing a crushed joint from his pack of Type 4, Hans re-rolled and lit it with a matchstick, taking a puff before offering Dieter - to which he declined.

"Gutt. You're not getting these unless you lose both your legs, Kinde."

Hans and Dieter then drag Josef from the collapsed navigation section and administered aid to the man, whose head were bleeding from the impact.

"Oberfeldwebel! We have company!"

Dieter warned Hans as silhouttes of three foot and a mounted individual could be seen in the distant horizon. Judging from their attire, the two instantly recognize the British uniforms and Enfields. Grabbing a C96 from the Captain's cold body, Hans handed Dieter the handgun, along with a couple of stripper clips.

"Tend to Herr Keller. Just like target practice, kinde. Point and open up if they get too close. I will deal with the rider. Verstehen?"

Hans ordered the teenager, whose silent nod was just as sufficient as his words. Grabbing his pickaxe, Hans crawled slowly in between the wreckage and sand to move around the patrol, just as they close in on the Totlich Mama.

 

[Pilgrim59]

"A Sea of Sands"
Crash Day 1953 - Midday
Designate: N/A
Oberfeldwebel Hans Weber
Luftwaffe Special Operations Group, KG-200
Unknown, Arabia


PAK PAK
A few pistol shots went off, signalling Hans to converge on the distracted horseman. Sprinting across the open ground, Hans tossed himself at the mounted individual, knocking him off the saddle, before cracking his skull open with his pickaxe.

"Gute Nacht, Tommy."

Mounting the white steed, Hans extended his pickaxe's reach with a rope tied to his hand. Charging at the British troops that were opening fire on the Totlich Mama, Hans cut down the oblivious men from behind one-by-one. With each of his strong, experienced throw, the German veteran got his exact payback for each of his crew. Dismounting from his steed, Hans grabbed an Enfield rifle and ammunition from the fallen foes and threw one at Dieter, whose poor training had left Hans with all the hard work.

"You either start shooting properly, or just miss completely. I don't want to be martyr to friendly fire, kinde."
"S-Sorry, Oberfeldweb-"
"No, none of that scheisse. Get yo-"

W H O O O O S H H
RATATATATATATA RATATATATATATA
The Hurricane came back and began gun-running their position. The crew ducked for cover as the rounds landed near them, piercing most of the fuselage's remains.

"Grab that Mark three and start returning fire, kinde!"
"Jawohl!"

Lifting his newly-acquired Lee-Enfield, Dieter began taking aimed shots at the Hurricane, while Hans went about to dismount the MG-15 from the porthole. As the Hurricane came around for a final run, at an advantageous angle, the crew was exposed to its direct line of sight.

"Oberfeldwebel, he has us in his sights!"
"So do we. Aim for his cockpit, kinde! Achtung! Feure!"

Although it was an impossible feat, Dieter followed his orders and deliberately aim at the cockpit as the aircraft approach.

KLANG!
After a few shots, Dieter managed to hit the Hurricane's exhaust, covering the pilot's line of sight with a trail of smoke. This prompted the Hurricane to slow down and attempt to gain some altitude. Before he could flee, Hans had already positioned himself on top of the Totlich Mama and began firing on the slowed down aircraft. He compressed his trigger in controlled bursts, cutting the plane in half and sending it into the sea of sands. An explosion would follow after its landing.

"If I had known you to have bird-shooting skills, I would've thrown you with the 502nd FlaK crew."
"Beginner's luck, I believe, Oberfeldwebel."
"I suppose so, kinde. I suppose so..."

The two smiled brightly, as Josef got up, recalling his consciousness.

"Immer sachte! Easy now, herr Keller. Komm schon, lets get you outta here. Kinde, can you walk?"
"I-I'm fine, I think."
"Gutt. Help me get herr Keller on that horse. We're getting out of here."
"Verstanden, Oberfeldwebel."

The two would hurl Josef onto the horse, along with Hans' MG-15 and rucksack carrying medical supplies and hand-packed rations. Hans would then rig the Totlich Mama's fuselage with a couple of British grenades before heading off with the other two.

B O O M !

The Totlich Mama's fuselage was now all but gone, leaving nothing behind but ashes and fire. It was, at least in Hans' thoughts, well-enough to cover their tracks, now that the crew's documents and operation plans were destroyed in the blast. The three began their long journey westward under the blazing sun, with Dieter taking point, and Hans side-by-side Josef on his horse.


"... He sent them to Bethlehem and said 'Go and search carefully for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me so that I too may go and worship Him'..."
"Matthaus, Chapter 2, Verse 8. We are neither wise nor old men, kinde. Keep your wits about you."


Minyari

 

[idalie]

Margaret "Maggie" Coleman​

"Likewise, Mr. Danvers. I haven't heard a British voice in months!" She exclaimed excitedly. "And that's a long story. I got caught up, after the D-Day landings. Our hospital got bombed, so they moved us around and the next thing I know, I'm tagging along with Americans! You can imagine my surprise. But no sooner than I'd reached those allies, we were assaulted by a German force. They took those poor boys prisoner, although I managed to get out by flashing my stockings to the guard." Maggie gave a tittering giggle, although her breathless exhilaration began to die down. "I was on my own for a while, it was terrifying, but what else would happen but more luck - I found Konstantin here. Although they were marching East, so I never really looked back you see? And I suppose I got adopted by them." Margaret let out a soft sigh. Yet she put her knuckles to her lips. "Really? Oh, my." The nurses face paled. "I do hope London holds out. All the family I have left are there." Coleman brushed the back of her hand over her brow to move a brown curl which had taken residence. Tucking her dainty palm within the airman's with a genuine smile. "Miss Margaret Coleman, Queen Alexandra’s Royal Army Nursing Corps. Do call me Maggie though."​

Rusty of Shackleford ReverseTex The Omen of Death

 

[The Omen of Death]

Kvetoslav Vergunov
​

Kvetoslav listened to the man's words carefully, scrutinizing all of them carefully and making sure everything was good, he appeared to be telling the truth, he ignored the side conversations and the other two that the Dutchman picked up and were with him, as that was not the main thing. He could see everyone of the Brits and American's were apprehensive to get home, it would be hard to get a car on this front this close to the main front, but Kvetoslav imagined he could work something out in the end. If the man was confident he was adequately prepared, then that was fine by him. This may be a pain to explain to his superiors, but for the time being he didn't wish to necessarily ruin the happy moment, by giving a more or less neutral response to the matter at hand.

"Alright, it may be hard to get you something adequately this close to the front and on this side of the war, but I should be able to manage to conjure up something for you men. So it may take a bit before you guys can go on your way back. But I'd imagine you guys can remain patient for a little bit longer yes?"

 

[ReverseTex]

Henrick Hans
Rusty of Shackleford
idalie
The Omen of Death​

Henrick tugged his sleeve lightly, to check his watch. They needed to hurry. “It’s quite alright, if we leave now we can make the safehouse before sundown. Ask on of your supieors for its location, i’m certain they have it, i’ve sent a letter about a week ago.” With a friendly nod, his icy eyes glancing at the new group before him. “Well Miss Coleman and gentlemen, we’d best be going.”

After another round of waves and goodbyes, the four were off. Henrick led, his hands tucked casually in his trench as he walked at a leisurely pace. “So I feel like I should give you the rundown Miss Coleman. Royal Marines have decided that they want to partner you with me, which personally I find quite intresting, being that you a field medic and me a spy. But I think we’ll be moving deeper into enemy territory to help start up a clinic of sorts. They happen to be great sources of intel.”

He smiled warmly to the woman, she was defiantly not sore to the eye, but this was buisness. He always came off a tad nice on first impressions, but good manners were always a highlighting trait of his.