Excalibur Squadron OOC Thread

[Neu Engollon]

Oh. Thanks! I had previously thought that the distinction was that a psychopath and a sociopath were the same, just that a psychopath was worse.
I'll check anywhere I've labeled him a psycho and correct it, thanks!

No problem. Here's a good definition of a sociopath.

Some people don't separate the terms and use them interchangeably, but clinically, that is wrong. The distinction wasn't made decades ago and the term sociopath didn't even exist until more recently.

[Kouralia]

Oh. Thanks! I had previously thought that the distinction was that a psychopath and a sociopath were the same, just that a psychopath was worse.
I'll check anywhere I've labeled him a psycho and correct it, thanks!

No problem. Here's a good definition of a sociopath.

Some people don't separate the terms and use them interchangeably, but clinically, that is wrong. The distinction wasn't made decades ago and the term sociopath didn't even exist until more recently.

Yeah, that sounds like him. Thanks!

[The balkens]

Hence the 2 LRDG men page got to guard Michael.
I can smell the epicness now.

[The balkens]

I assume that the commanders tank is an m13/40? Or is it m13/39?

[The Tiger Kingdom]

I assume that the commanders tank is an m13/40? Or is it m13/39?

Your assumption is correct; it's an M13/40.

You guys may be wondering why michaels acting the way he is
He suffers from PTSD. From what has happened to him last year (IC) most likely.
and combine that he hates the heat of the desert.
Tiger maybe if page can re-read his dossier(the fact the he suffers from a traumatic event)

Maybe. Still, though, the squadron has had people in it with trauma of various sorts, and I can't say many of them react like Michael does.
Page loves the heat, though, so he may not have much sympathy on that score.

Besides I plan on getting the Italian commander somehow
(does commandeering his tank to destroy the rest of the armored unit sound realistic?)

I plan on updating that chart as we go along.

Only if he has help, or is very fast. Remember, the driver of the Carro Armato would need to be filled, the Gunner and loader and commander would also be empty if he commandeers it. Two people is the minimum you'd need. (Smythelol)

I wouldn't set your plan in stone just yet. Twists and turns still to come.

[The balkens]

I have various plans.


Hitler plans to kill Michael

Jodl "mein führer, what is your next crazy plan?"
Hitler "I'm planning to kill Michael baldy, I believe he is a threat to Excalibur squadron. Since he is no longer apart of the squadron, nobody would care if he is killed.
Jodl "Steiner and the map mein führer?"
Hitler "Steiner will be invisible as always and this map will lead me to Michael."
Krebs "Michael may be crazy, but he is very skilled. It will be difficult to kill him."
Hitler "fine, I will use my ninja Nazi skills to defeat him."
Jodl "mein führer this plan is bound to fail, I object."
Hitler "what the hell is your problem?
Jodl "hes not really quitting!"
Hitler "if he's not quitting then why did he give page his LT insignia? You stupid hairless ape!
I'll use your shiny head to blind him and kill him if you object to anymore of my plans!"

[Calizorinstan]

I wonder if Pat's alligator meat could make an appearance.. It's only like 6 years old..

[French Indochine]

I assume that the commanders tank is an m13/40? Or is it m13/39?

Your assumption is correct; it's an M13/40.

Maybe. Still, though, the squadron has had people in it with trauma of various sorts, and I can't say many of them react like Michael does.
Page loves the heat, though, so he may not have much sympathy on that score.

Only if he has help, or is very fast. Remember, the driver of the Carro Armato would need to be filled, the Gunner and loader and commander would also be empty if he commandeers it. Two people is the minimum you'd need. (Smythelol)

I wouldn't set your plan in stone just yet. Twists and turns still to come.

If you're concerned over my feelings over pushing the plot on, I'm can tolerate it - although it does mean that I have to disregard a whole two-to-three paragraphs that I had drafted regarding Birch go over the his unit's depleted combat strength for the mission: see, 11 Patrol (the featured LRDG company as revealed in Keatings' dossier) has to leave behind a security detail to watch over the town while the main elements are gone - combined with their casualties suffered earlier in the day, the LRDG has to make do with a skeleton of its former combat elements for the operation. I'd gladly appreciate it if you'd somehow address the issue in your next post or maybe edit your last one to suite the situation.

Anyways, do you mind updating the front page as to add links to Keatings' dossier? I would also appreciate you adding Birch to the 'squadron allies' list.

In other words, I've decided to put some effort into a creating an app for ol' Major Birch - it seems that I've turned him into someone who deserves his own name alongside the OOC's "Squadron Allies".

---

Name: Jonathan Birch
Age: 33
Rank: Major
Picture:

(Image)

Country of Origin: Cairo, British Egypt - citizen of the United Kingdom
Flight/Flight Combat Experience: None
Ground Combat Experience:
-two year tour of duty during the Spanish Civil War as a member of the British contribution to the International Brigades.
-veteran of now five raids against Italian interior positions behind enemy lines as part of the early phase of the North African campaign.

Specialties: Currently commands a company of the Long Range Desert Group, an elite Commonwealth special forces group tasked with wreaking havoc across the Western Desert. Speaks fluent and excellent Arabic, while currently studying basic Hebrew in his free time.
RP Experience: I don't think I need to explain one more time.

Personal History/Bio:

Jonathan "Birch the Bastard", as many of his current colleages call him behind his back, was the result of a rather badly timed affair between a British Army officer stationed in Egypt and his rather attractive house maid. Much to the horror and dismay of Captain Luke Birch and his family, his unintended son Jonathan was born in Cairo in 1907. Jonathan spent his first years of life under the wings of his adoptive father and family of an Arab hotel manager, whom was also a close friend of Captain Birch. His father never actually got over the shame of Jonathan's entry into the world, and rarely visited him as a result of his constant leggings between his posts in the Middle East and his official family back home in England. After spending his first several years of life in Egypt, Jonathan Birch was finally officially adopted by his father upon the latter's official marriage disintegrating. The elder Birch promised and planned to take his previously disavowed son to his true ancestral home in Britain, but the outbreak of World War I interrupted his plans before he could send Jonathan to England; Captain Luke Birch tragically succumbed to wounds sustained during the horrific Gallipoli campaign in 1916.

A terrified Jonathan was left in dark until the end of the conflict, when he was adopted by a close comrade of his father aiming to furfill Luke Birch's last request to take care of Jonathan. After finishing his education and beginning his training as an army officer, Jonathan's adoptive father died of a heart attack. Grief striken and having lost his faith in God over his renewed isolation, Jonathan sought to let fate decide his fate upon the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War by joining up in the British Battalion of the International Brigades. Although serving a dedicated two complete years during the conflict, Birch's efforts, much to his dismay, went largely unrecognized by his government. Frustrated with what he believed to be others taking his credit or refusing to give him any altogether, Birch took interest in the ethnic strife in British Palestine and eagerly applied to join Orde Wingate's Special Night Squads - a British-Jewish counter-insurgency task force. Upon the unit's dispansion in 1938, the then Captain Birch was recalled to garrison duties in Egypt. His discharge from the armed forces was cut short by the sudden outbreak of hostilities in Europe in 1939, and Birch accepted a recall to active duty.

Being based in the Middle East, he wondered of what to do as the war progressed with the defeat of the Anglo-French forces in France and the Blitz upon Britain itself. A comrade from his service in Palestine recommended him for the newly founded Long Range Desert Group, drawing upon his service with Spanish Republican guerillas and night time assault raids with the SNS. He was promoted to Major after serving on four desert raids with the LRDG, and commanded a company of the special troops for a fifth. Shortly afterwards, his LRDG company was transferred over to the desert outpost of El-Arouk close to neighboring Sudan to await the arrival of the elite RAF 319 squadron which would support them -all as part of a grand plan for a desert raid against an Italian communications outpost of some sort. . .or so it seems. . .

[Felkland]

I wonder if Pat's alligator meat could make an appearance.. It's only like 6 years old..

I would say gross, but that's a little hypocritical considering that I eat haggis....which is made from oats, white pepper and all of the vital organs of a sheep stuffed into its own stomach lining. Enjoy with mashed potatoes and turnips.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Sure FI, I'll link up Keating and Birch.

Here's Part 2, I trust the naming motif is already apparent:

(LINK)
Aeródromo de Rabassa
1316 Hours
January 10th, 1937


It was only his third full day in Spain, and already Page was sure he'd made a bad, bad mistake somewhere.

The squadron was had been stationed in some airfield in the ass-end of the countryside outside of Valencia, with no village or anything around besides farmland and scrubland. The weather had been cold and rainy since Page had arrived. They hadn't even seen an airplane yet, and moreover, he was beginning to feel desperately homesick, and entirely alone. The homesickness made a degree of sense - he had barely seen his family in the last year and a half, first with his transfer to Iraq, then in the turmoil leading up to his demobilization and enlistment with the Republicans. They hadn't exactly been happy when he told them that he would be leaving specifically to go fight a war in Spain, but...he'd rather left telling them that until the last minute, so as to evade the worst of their recrimination. He'd write, but he didn't anticipate they'd be very happy. The loneliness was a bit more of an issue.

There weren't many people on the airfield as it was, but of the few that were, most of them were communists or anarchists. They weren't so much into drinking and chewing the fat in the standard pilot tradition as much as they were into long lectures on Stalinist political theory, or plotting as to how best to install a Communist government in England when they returned from the war. At best, they left him alone. At worst, they publicly shunned him for being an "imperialist" or a "covert fascist provocateur". The officers (Spanish and British, for the most part) were ridiculous as well - pompous asses either obsessed with the perks of their rank, or obsessed with drinking and women, or a mixture of both. None of them that Page saw seemed to care too much about the war. To them, the fighting was just an excuse to indulge in a great deal of ideological posturing and blather. And so, Page began to become a bit of a pariah.

The one exception, however, was Wallace. Page felt he could trust him much more than anyone else on the base, from what he'd observed. He could see Wallace was concerned about the welfare of his men, regularly checking on them in the barracks and making sure they had everything they needed, although without planes, there wasn't much to take care of on that score. He treated Page as well as he did everyone else, inquiring if he was doing all right, looking out for him as best he could. Wallace also seemed to be mostly unaffiliated with any ideological stance - he joined the communists for their lectures, but didn't ostracize Page. It was a welcome break from the commie clique.

And so, when the call went out to rally at the flight line for an important briefing, Page wasn't exactly optimistic. Forming up on the runway in the drizzle and mist, they waited for several minutes before Wallace showed up, attired in full dress uniform. He stood for a moment, examining each of them in turn, before walking away and motioning for the group to follow him. Confused, Page followed from the rear. What's he planning?

The group walked a fairly long ways - over to the far side of the runway, towards a massive hangar that Page hadn't been inside yet. As they reached it, Wallace grabbed the door, and shoved it aside. Page tried his best to pick out what was inside through the murk. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that there were several aircraft inside, of a design he hadn't seen before.

It was hardly the most visually arresting aircraft design he had ever seen. They were monoplanes, with low, cantilevered wings, a stubby fuselage, wide body, short, rounded wings, and a cockpit mounted fairly far back on the fuselage. To the untrained eye, they resembled the old Gee Bee racers, except without the wildly bulked-up engine and gaudy colors. They were painted in standard green camouflage patterns. It was the kind of design that didn't so much inspire fear in the enemy who saw them, as much as it inspired affection from the person piloting it.

And Page loved it at first sight. Finally. No more sitting and moping around; not with this baby at my disposal.

As the Lieutenant ravished the plane with his eyes, Wallace finally began speaking.
"Men, we are the beneficiaries of considerable good fortune. In recent months, the Republican government went on a bit of a spree with their gold reserves, and bought up a few hundred of these planes for us from the USSR. It has many names: the Russians call it the Donkey, the Nationalists call it the Rat, our boys call it the Fly. Its given name is the Polikarpov I-16. And gentlemen, I do not exaggerate when I say that this plane has the potential to be a war-winning tool against the Fascists. It will whip hell out of any of those ancient Italian biplanes they have, and can even go toe-to-toe with those new German monoplanes, if you know what you're doing.

His brow furrowed as he went on.
"However, when we gave a batch of these to a different squadron...it became quite apparent that this plane is not an easy plane to learn in. It's very maneuverable and fast, but it's also very unforgiving. You cannot fly this thing hands-off or carelessly, I don't care how good you are - if you do, you'll wind up pancaked across a kilometer of hillside. No exceptions. Trust me on this. I've seen it happen.

"So I'm giving you a choice. We're getting in a shipment of Nieuport biplanes tomorrow, which were originally intended to be our standard aircraft before we got shipped these Flies. You can choose to pilot those, if you like, they're much more forgiving, and about on par with the Nationalists anyway. Or, if you want to risk it, we have four openings for these I-16s. We only have four, after all."

Wallace theatrically looked around. "Any volunteers?"

Page's hand shot up instantly, beating the rest of the group to the punch handily. A smattering of other pilots tentatively raised their hands.
Wallace scanned the volunteers. "All right. Page, Richardson, Cadwalader, and Dickinson, you're our first I-16 group. Training starts at 0800 hours tomorrow. Be ready. Dismissed for now."

As the group walked back to their barracks, Page got a rough tap on his shoulder from behind.
"Oi. Comrade Page."
Page turned. It was one of the men who didn't volunteer - Evans? Yes, Evans. That was the name.
"Yes?"
"What the fuck makes you so confident you can fly one of those widowmakers, eh? What makes you so special? Or are you just kiss-arsing?"
Page could see Evans was angry, and more than that, actually suspicious. He remembered vaguely that he was one of the big commie group leaders - probably thinking the Lieutenant was a Nationalist defection waiting to happen.
He couldn't resist. Page leaned in, kept walking, and lowered his voice.
"I volunteered, Evans, because I'm the best fucking pilot here. Bar none. That plane would be wasted on anyone else, we both know it."

Evans was dumbstruck for a moment, evidently not expecting such a response. He guffawed hugely.
"You cocky little pissant. Well then. We'll see how you do. Tell you what, I'll even do you a favor: I promise, when you bite it, to help identify your carcass. Someone's gotta do it, after all."
Page chuckled.
"You're too kind, Mr. Evans. I'll be sure to mention your generous-but-never-acted-upon offer when the BBC comes around to interview me and ask how I won the war single-handedly, swatting down hundreds, no, THOUSANDS of helpless fascist birds."
Evans shook his head, still chuckling. "Cheeky bastard..."

Still haven't decided if it'll be a 10 or 12-parter, could go either way.

[Altito Asmoro]

"........So, Edward was a mercenary who defected from your group and now a RAF Lieutenant?"

"Yes. I don't think he could live longer, though. His captain seems to be weak, you now. Name's Robert Page, I think."

"How the hell you know him?"

"Informants. Mostly in Western Europe."

"What you want to do now?"

"Kill Edward. He's worthless now."

Akbar Al Imran, a dishonorable Colonel, sworn brother of Abdullah Harakish, and the leader of Sweden-based mercenary group. In his shelter in Sweden, he talked with an unknown Soviet officer who wants to supply the mercenaries. Soviet Union is basically the mercenary's main arms supplier, as they helped Stalin establish his position as the Premier.

Edward's location had been confirmed, in France, during one of his operation. A bar had also been confirmed as the frequent place the squadron visited. 12 men had been sent to there to destroy the bar, in hope to be able to extract information about Edward too.

- 1 year after Edward's last firefight.

[The balkens]

This is the back story for my antagonist. Expect more.

Eastern Germany, September 15, 1939, near the polish border.

Lieutenant Dietrich Zimmerman was sitting in a chair next to his aircraft, an BF-109.
He is the new squadron leader, mainly because the last one was shot down 2 days ago.
"so, Lieutenant? when are getting back up there?" helmuth shreider was dietrich's number 2 on his wing.
"no idea, after what happened to the captain. may be days."
Dietrich sighed as he thought back to the last OP.
the squadron leader, a condor legion veteran, was shot down and killed by some pole near Lodz. he thought it as some fluke.
"tell Wilhelm i want his wing up first if we get the order to scramble, i got a feeling that command might give us a shot at payback."
helmuth nodded and walked to Wilhelm kretel whom was inspecting his plane.
jesus, what the hell did happen to the captain?
everything was fine until that fighter showed up. some how got through me and helmuth, not to mention the others.
captain Leicester stood no chance.
dietrich then heard the familiar sound of the alarm to scramble.
he dawned his fight gear immediately and stepped in his plane. "Kaiser squadron get up into the air!" he yelled out of his open cockpit. the ground crew started his engine almost instantly.
he gave the OK symbol,shut his canopy and taxied to the runway.
his flight of 4 followed him as he sped down the runway and lifted into the air.
ground control crackled over his radio.
"lieutenant zimmerman, you are to go into enemy held Territory and establish air dominance. that is all."
zimmerman was excited.
"alright boys its just the 4 of us, that should be enough to take on these fools, follow me!"
45 minutes passed and they were in polish airspace.
"kaiser 1 to kaiser team, keep an eye out: the poles are known to operate in this area."
it was a clear day out, dietrich could see for miles on end. there was no way he could get ambushed.
helmuth was twisting his head in order to keep alert. he looked to his 8 o'clock; he noticed a spec from far away. he squinted his eyes in order to see better. he saw the distinctive shape of an P.11.
"lieutenant! enemy! at our 8 o'clock!"
Dietrich was surprised.
"helmuth you better be sure!"
he twisted his head around to see, helmuth was correct.
"kaiser 3 and 4 you could use the experience, take him down."
2 bf-109s banked left to engage the lone fighter, thinking it was an easy victory.
the mysterious plane flipped over and dived on the 2 aircraft. zooming past them
kaiser 3 called out on his radio
"damn! hes fast!"
dietrich was alarmed. was it the same one from before?
"hang on im on my way! helmuth maintain observation!"
"of course sir!"
dietrich rolled over half way and turned right, he could see kaisers 3 and 4 trying to shoot down the lone bandit.
"dont let his fancy moves fool you!"
dietrich could see the P.11 twist and turn until it was on 4s 6 o'clock.
"kaiser 4 hes on you! break left!"
the P.11 fired its weapons at the 109, its control cables were shredded.
"damn! im hit! hes still there!"
kaiser 4 tried despretely to move out of the enemy line of fire but the P.11s weapons found their mark.
the bf-109 burst in to flames falling out of the ski and into the forest below.

dietrich let it sank in for a moment, they were dealing with either the luckiest pilot or he was a skilled one.
"lieutenant! help!" kaiser 3 called out for help from dietrich.
he shook his head and climbed to the dogfight that was ensueing.
the P.11 was matching 3s every move, firing only when it had a shot.
"i can feel the bullets hit! he cant be human!"
"hang on 3! just keep moving and stay unpredictable!"
dietrich gunned his engine to full power.
"i cant! hes stil-"
3 was cut off by his aircraft bursting into a fireball.
dietrich was horrified by the sudden turn of events. he could hear kaiser 3 scream as he most likely was consumed by the flames.
"damn you!"
once he was in range dietrich fired his weapons, the P.11 turned into him and twisted.
"what the hell are you!" dietrich was livid, he lost two pilots to this man; whoever he is.
dietrich followed him down the deck an began pursuing.
he fired in anger at the polish aircraft, but what happened next shocked him.
the P.11 pulled up and climbed but midway through it flipped over and came straight for zimmerman, firing its weapons.
dietrich closed his eyes but found that his aircraft survived the attack. he was leaking oil and fuel.
the P.11 climbed away, out of ammo presumibly.

"oh my god....what just happened?" dietrich was dumbstruck.

"sir! are you ok?!" helmuth called out to him.
"yes im fine. we better get out of here."

done!

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Starting my IC post now.
I guess now is as good a time as any for the final hint as to the next operation:

The Beast directs his forces, the addition of which could spell ruin for all

[The balkens]

Hmm 666? Number of the beast.....anyone else get anything from it?
Could be a place....longitude and latitude wise.....
Tiger you officially stumped me....

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Hmm 666? Number of the beast.....anyone else get anything from it?
Could be a place....longitude and latitude wise.....
Tiger you officially stumped me....

I'm actually kinda glad to hear that - for the last few ops, there's been a bad tradition of my hints being way, way too obvious.
Regardless, it's all there in those three hints.

[The balkens]

I got the Felix the cat one, it was a logo for a bomb disposal unit right?
The second one I for the life of me could not get
(not even skeletors stare of doom could decode it )
I would love to be in Asia. Michael with a Thompson smg....

[The Tiger Kingdom]

I got the Felix the cat one, it was a logo for a bomb disposal unit right?
The second one I for the life of me could not get
(not even skeletors stare of doom could decode it )
I would love to be in Asia. Michael with a Thompson smg....

I will straight-up tell you Asia is going to be a later thing. Not much going on there in 1940, besides China, I guess.
And maaaaaaaaaaaybe you got the first hint, maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe you didn't.
You'll see soon enough! YOU'LL ALL SEE!

[The balkens]

I'm shaking in my non-existent boots.
I can almost imagine it if my guess is right

Could you also link dietrich's back story?

The P.11 is piloted by Michael, they will have quite the rivalry.

[Kouralia]

The Beast directs his forces, the addition of which could spell ruin for all

666 Squadron was not formed until 1945...
666 Battalion is the mane of a comedy radio skit...
6+6+6=18 (UKSF) Signals Regiment...
6+6+6=18 Squadron went to France as part of the BEF, but I can't find much more beyond that... 'Animo et fide - 'With courage and faith'' (Animation?)

Are any of these even close?

[The Tiger Kingdom]

The Beast directs his forces, the addition of which could spell ruin for all

666 Squadron was not formed until 1945...
666 Battalion is the mane of a comedy radio skit...
6+6+6=18 (UKSF) Signals Regiment...
6+6+6=18 Squadron went to France as part of the BEF, but I can't find much more beyond that... 'Animo et fide - 'With courage and faith'' (Animation?)

Are any of these even close?

It's interesting to see you caught onto the addition bit...

[Felkland]

Does the next op, by any chance involve disrupting a German invasion of some possibly massive country....oh, I don't know.... Just a little east of Poland?

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Does the next op, by any chance involve disrupting a German invasion of some possibly massive country....oh, I don't know.... Just a little east of Poland?

Barbarossa? Nah, we're still months away from that.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Also, plot hole retcon:
I know I originally introduced Cutler as Scottish, but I just didn't feel like writing in a Scots patois all the time for him. As such, he's retroactively a London man.

[Felkland]

Is it a raid somewhere in Germany? The Ruhr or the Rhineland?

Or maybe Holland?

[The balkens]

Germany? I doubt were going into the belly of the beast.
Holland? Might be cool.