Excalibur Squadron OOC Thread

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Back from vacation - it was fun, but again, it is a bit rough to not even be able to work on ES stuff over there in any real capacity.

I saw Tiger Kingdom's signature, and I'm interested.
So...here's my app I guess?

Name: Park Jin Young (Japanese name is Shouta Nobunaga, and adopted Russian name is Dimitri)

Age: 25

Rank: Senior Sergeant of Aviation of the Soviet Union and an IJN Pretty Officer Second Class.

Physical Description/Picture: Jin Young is a medium sized Asian man, though by Korean standards, he is very tall due to extreme malnutrition. He's muscular and gaunt, weathered by the icy cold of Siberia, having fought and killed dozens of people, and his long black hair is usually tied back in the traditional Japanese style, though he plans to cut it to fall in accordance with Soviet military protocol. His eyes are pretty large, and he does not have anything close to resembling "slant eyes." Thus, he truly resents it when people call him a "slant eyed" Asian.

Country of Origin: Imperial Japan, particularly, from a small farming village in south-east Korea known as Hahoe.

Flight/Flight Combat Experience (MANDATORY): Jin Young, before being drafted into the IJN, often flew planes for his land lord during the farming season to spread fertilizer and complete other farm chores. Drafted into the navy for his abilities, he received combat training, and was taught to operate an A5M. After being captured/ defecting to the Russians, he was trained to fly a I-15 Soviet fighter plane to assist in border Skirmishes.

Ground Combat Experience:Jin Young, for a time, was forced to fight as a Soviet foot soldier, and was taught how to use a Sniper rifle by a friend, Anton, who had been a simple country farmer before the wars, and Jin Young's child hood, hunting with master; prepared his arms to be stable and dexteritous. His former master also had him serve as a body guard of sorts for a time, and he was trained in the use of a revolver and Japanese Katana.

Specialties Jin Young can speak Japanese, knows some Russian, Korean, and is currently in the process of learning German and French in his own spare time, and can speak them- very sparingly. He also knows how to till the land as a farmer, if that has any applicable use, and can hide and stalk in a thickly forested area due to his youth, hunting in the country side of Korea.

Weapons of Choice: Jin Young currently has a Mosin-Nangant with scope and (useless) silencer attachments, a Welrod Silenced Pistol, and a large bayonet/sword, though he is seeking a Katana as he feels that the western swords lack finesse. He also has a rope that he knows how to use a garotte, should he ever need to kill someone silently.

RP Experience: I have partaken in a quite few, and can produce a few examples If prompted.

Personal History/Bio (more than one line please ):

Jin Young Park was born in 1914, four years after annexation by the Japanese, to a single mother; the father had left them for another woman. Living in a small country village known as Hahoe, he was fortunate to have a quite benevolent and educated Japanese land lord as his master. Known as Kanbei Nobunaga, this master had served many long years in the IJN as the commander of a fighter wing, and wanted little more than to relax and drink Green tea for the rest of his days. Kanbei quickly recognized Jin Young’s fascination with flying, and dubbed him as “Shouta,” which means “flying” and “in the sky” in Japanese.

Seeing in the young boy, lots of energy and intelligence, he taught him to fly a plane, and put him at work, spreading fertilizer, searching for cows, and spotting bandits, all of which he did well. Furthermore, his stable arms prompted Kanbei to take up hunting again, and he took Jin Young on many of these hunts, as well as a three week stint in China in 1929 where Kanbei took Jin as a bodyguard where he went, visiting old friends, British, French and Chinese alike.

In fact, the two shared almost a father son relationship, but Jin Young could never inherit Kanbei’s land due to discriminatory laws against Ethnic Koreans.

However, in 1933, Kanbei was murdered by a some thief who had broken into the estate manor, and Kanbei’s distant Nephew, Hikaru, was to inherit the land. Hikaru, a cruel and domineering man, almost worked his servants to death, before being shot by Jin Young in 1934, and pushed into a river. The investigation put Jin Young under suspect, but to be honest, Hikaru had been loathed by the police inspector as a drunkard, molestor and trouble maker anyways, and when it was discovered that Jin Young could fly well, he was forced to swear loyalty to the government in early 1935, and enlisted into the navy academy as an air officer so as to both gain valuable military personnel and to allow the inspector to gloat over his so called “victory.”

In the navy, Jin Young’s identity was changed as to prevent unnecessary discrimination, and he was known as Shouta Nobunaga. The top at his class, he earned much jealousy, it was eventually realized that Shouta was Korean. In a small scale controversy, he was sent to Manchuria as to relieve tensions and, hopefully, get killed so as to end the whole fiasco.
In his two week campaign, Shouta shot down 3 soviet planes, before being shot down himself, and being taken prisoner.

Forced to work in a Siberian work camp for a year, Shouta was, once again, sent back to Siberia to fight the Japanese, and this time, fought as a designated marksman. Eventually, he was shoved into a plane as a result of his past as a pilot, and has shot down a total of 17 Japanese planes. He was rotated to the West in anticipation of a possible German invasion, but defected to the London government after hearing about the Fall of France in the 1940s, hoping to be able to work to save people from foreign control. Sneaking aboard a German transport vessel from Leningrad (the Germans and Soviets did trade weapons, right?)to German occupied Denmark, he got off, and crossed the channel by stealing a mail carrier aircraft.

*Note, there were border Skirmishes between the Soviets and Imperial Japanese, but it never expanded into all out war.
*Also, I'm sort of uncertain about the nature of Soviet train systems and such, but I feel that my transfer periods are reasonably lengthened. Please tell me if this is otherwise.
*Finally, I hope that this isn't too garish or outlandish.

I'll accept it. Hopefully we'll get more of an idea of why exactly he wants to fight the Germans specifically, but I think you're good for now.

Because I'm a self-serving self-aggrandizing bastard:

viewtopic.php?f=33&t=267528

Do try and ask me for permission before advertising in here.
I think that'll be a rule going forward.

[Kouralia]

How predictable.

Piss off

I've never seen you in an RP without a character called Benjamin Silva - in the Post Apoc one, in the 'US Marines Vs Orcs' one, in ES, etc. etc.

[Calizorinstan]

Hey all,

I am back. I have been very busy with school and will be for a bit, but can RP with Excalibur when Pat was needed. I turned 21 this weekend, btw..

[Len Hyet]

Piss off

I've never seen you in an RP without a character called Benjamin Silva - in the Post Apoc one, in the 'US Marines Vs Orcs' one, in ES, etc. etc.

Because he is Jesus and Jesus is him

[Kouralia]

I've never seen you in an RP without a character called Benjamin Silva - in the Post Apoc one, in the 'US Marines Vs Orcs' one, in ES, etc. etc.

Because he is Jesus and Jesus is him

Jesus is actually Alfred Daniel Wintle, but I'll let it slide for now.

[Goram]

Hey Tiger, could you get this for me please?

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Hey Tiger, could you get this for me please?

I'll link stuff at the end of the week.

[Goram]

Hey Tiger, could you get this for me please?

I'll link stuff at the end of the week.

Thanks.

[Goram]

The short winter's day dragged on and late afternoon turned into early evening. The people of Stahlstadt went about their business as per usual, still oblivious to the force that was now beginning to stir against them. Indeed only Luftwaffe listening stations, who could hear the tests that wireless operators had been making almost all day, had any inkling that a big operation might be planned for tonight. They could guess, with some accuracy, how many bombers to expect but until the stream was airborne the target was anyone's guess.

On the other side of the North Sea, the bombing up process was almost complete. The last of Bywater's sixteen Lancasters was now having the last of it's bombs loaded into the cavernous bay and the numerous fuel bowsers were making the rounds, pouring 2,154 imperial gallons of high octane fuel into the six wing tanks of each aircraft. In the darkening conditions, the Lancasters stood silhouetted against the setting sun. They looked surreally peaceful, not at all like the city crushing weapons of war that they were designed to be. On the other side of the base, activity was beginning to stir amongst the air crew. Post briefing, most had gone for the traditional pre-op meal of bacon and eggs but now, it was time to get to business.

Stanford, dressed in flying leathers, stood in a long line of airmen waiting to be issued a parachute. The vast majority of men would be given a package style chute that could not be worn in the aircraft, but would have to be stowed and then clipped onto the man's harness if the device was needed. In the pitch dark of a dying bomber, this was no easy feat. However, as a pilot, Stanford would be issued the familiar seat type parachute, which could be worn in the aircraft. However, Stanford knew all too well that this was akin to sitting on concrete for eight hours or more.

'Ere, love

an unknown voice said to the WAAF corporal, in charge of distributing the 'chutes to the men

If it don't work, can I bring it back?

The girl, new to her job at Bywater, looked down at the package in her hand. She had been told that the bomber boys had a morbid sense of humour, but this was her first experience of it. The desultory chuckle from several of the men and a cry of

There's always one isn't there? Somebody has to make that joke every flaming time.

Snapped her back to reality. With a sheepish smile she handed the man, who obviously fancied himself a comedian she thought, his parachute before waving him on his way. The line moved quickly and before very long, Stanford had been issued both parachute and escape kit.

The drive out to the aircraft was an uneventful one. Packed into the back of a small truck, with the rest of his crew, Stanford simply sat and stared out of the open end, going over details of the raid to come in his mind. It was when the truck pulled up to a halt that Stanford saw his aircraft for the first time. The machine looked to be in good nick and the most striking feature was the long lines of 40 odd yellow bomb tallies, denoting a completed operation, painted under the pilot side canopy. A clearly new patch of metal, just below the nose turret, caught his eye as well.

Couple of ops ago, Sir

The Canadian bomb aimed said, having noticed Stanford looking at the patch.

We caught some shrapnel over the target, miracle no one was killed.

Stanford tore his gaze away from the patch on the nose, before pulling the parachute harness over his shoulders and connecting the straps to the quick release mechanism which sat upon his chest. Clambering into the mighty aircraft was no easy feat and though Stanford had flown Lancasters before but he was always surprised at how cramped the machines were on the inside. Climbing over the main spar, to get to the cockpit, was never easy, even when the aircraft was on the ground. Tonight in the dark, should the aircraft need to be evacuated, it would prove virtually impossible. Once inside the aircraft, it was clear that the machine was not new, despite it's outward appearance. The bare metal components were dull, having lost their shine long ago and there was a distinctive smell about the aircraft. The smell was not of blood or death, though this aircraft had seen both, rather it was simply due to fact that seven men would be sat in the aircraft for hours at a time. Stanford moved down the fuselage, making his way towards the nose. He moved past the mid-upper gunner's position, taking stock of the fabric sling on which he would be sitting for foreseeable future. The navigator and wireless operator's positions looked scant better, with little to no consideration given to crew comfort. The worst of it, however, was certainly reserved for the rear gunner. His turret was cold, cramped and above all it was lonely. Without the R/T he would have no contact with the outside world and, of course, he was the night fighter's first target.

With no small amount of effort, Stanford made it to the pilot's seat. Next to him, the Flight Engineer folded down his temporary seat and the two of them began the exhaustive list of pre flight checks before beginning the process of starting the four Rolls Royce Merlin XXs.

Master engine cocks, set off.
Throttles set a half inch open.
Set propeller controls fully open.
Slow running cut out switches, idle cut off.
Superchargers set to M.
Air intake heat control, cold.
Radiator shutters, set to automatic.
Select tank and set fuel booster pumps on.
Engage ignition and booster coils.
Press starter button.

Stanford had only made one operational trip on Lancasters, thus far, but he had racked up dozens of hours of flight time on the type. He ran through the engine starting process in mere seconds. He extended his arm through the open window, holding up one finger and then rotating his wrist as the number one engine coughed into life. Stanford repeated this process for each of the four motors, setting each one to 1,200 RPM as he did so. With a nod of his head, the Flight Engineer confirmed that the temperatures and pressures were rising to normal levels, prompting Stanford to turn off the fuel booster pumps.

All over the airfield, the roar of Merlins followed by the glow of navigation lights pierced the darkness. Within a few minutes, the first of those navigation lights began to edge forward onto the perry track, towards the main run way and Germany...

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Now you start to get an idea of why Straube wanted some pre-emptive absolution thrown his way.

September 4th, 1939
Sieradz, Poland
1120 Hours

Three full days into the new war, and things were going immaculately for Konrad.

His Jaegerkommando company had hardly had much trouble as of yet. They'd long since left Wielun in the swirling dust behind them, and were now headed directly for the city of Lodz, one of Poland's largest cities, and roughly the halfway point from the German-Polish border line to the Polish capital of Warsaw. The capital was the central point for the three prongs of the Wehrmacht's advance into Poland, coming from East Prussia, Slovakia, and the main thrust coming from Silesia - that was the one that Konrad's team was attached to. At the rate they were going, they'd be there in two weeks. After the "success" at Wielun (if one could call smashing through an unopposed town a success, Konrad mentally sniffed to himself), Konrad had been informed that as of yesterday, they were no longer independent - they were now officially under the commander of the 1st SS Panzer Division (Liebstandarte Adolf Hitler), the most elite unit in the entire German Armed Forces, regardless of what the army would be saying about their precious Grossdeutschland Regiment.

Now, riding on the back of the trucks taking them to their next conquest, Konrad waited and watched the horizon for any signs of action. The rest of the men, he was proud to say, were just as diligent and focused as he was, their eyes peeled on their environs for the slightest potentially hostile movement, their rifles, Schmeissers, and bayonets gleaming and at the ready. That was the benefit of having the most well-drilled and disciplined soldiers: they wouldn't slack off, even in a situation where in theory it would have been justifiable. With the Wehrmacht, you'd have gotten soldiers dozing off, chatting about their families, getting all chummy and sentimental, letting their guards down...But these SS troopers might as well have been automatons. They'd done exceedingly well for themselves - with the worrying exception of Lieutenant Wahl. After his failure of nerve in Wielun, Konrad had decided to keep a close eye on him as the campaign drew on.

Before they'd enter Lodz proper, though, they'd have to fight their way through the suburbs. Presumably, the Poles would be putting up some kind of defense there to hold them in the cities. Konrad was slightly uneasy about the proposition of moving to urban fighting. In the exercises he'd taken part in, the panzers, which had done a great job so far in the wide-open Polish fields, had become almost useless in city confines. They became slow, blind pillboxes, their main guns almost useless, their machine-guns hopelessly slow to get a track on a target. Their armor was rendered useless by close ranges as well. So, it was likely that the infantry was going to be taking the brunt of any close-quarters fighting.

He could see a scattering of buildings approaching on the horizon, only a mile or so off. In the distance, he could hear the booming of artillery coming from behind the German lines, and int he sky above, he could hear the rising drone of Daimler engines coming from the West. Looking up, he could see the Stukas winging it towards the town, canted upwards, gaining altitude. For a second, Konrad was overtaken by a decided feeling of nostalgia for the air - it had been too long since he'd gotten the chance to fly his 109.

A moment later, the truck pulled to the side of the road and stopped. Without needing orders, the SS men immediately shifted into the next level of readiness - muscles clenched, guns in ready hands, awaiting the order to advance. No sooner had they stopped than the 8-Rad armored car that had been tailing them stopped beside them as well. From the top hatch, the helmeted, mustached head of Major von Röhr, the overall commander of this particular Kampfgruppe, emerged. He had to yell to be heard over the roar of the truck engines.
"Captain!"
Konrad saluted.
"I want you to dismount your men now and move in on that town, immediately after the Stukas hit it! The Poles have infantry and antitank weapons dug in force on a defensive line covering the western side. They've made themselves a fine killing ground there, and I think your men are what we need to breach it! I want you men to force a hole in the line, get in there, spread out, and take out as many of the AT guns as you can find! Once that's done, you're to flank around and use your platoons to cut off the roads leading eastward as best you can! I want every Pole in this town - soldier or civilian alike - caught in a vise of steel! Is this understood?"
"Yessir! Can we expect reinforcements to hold the roads? How many are there?"
Von Röhr tossed him a map. "There are two, all marked out nice and pretty on there, along with your entry route and the guns we've managed to pinpoint! And yes, you can expect armored and mounted reinforcements as soon as possible once the guns are cleared out! Now get to it!"
Konrad saluted once more, and was reciprocated by the Major. He turned to his men.
"DISMOUNT!"

As one, they tumbled off the trucks. The order quickly spread down the line of trucks, and soon, the entire Jaegerkommando was debarked and in formation. While the lower officers and NCOs moved the troopers into attack position, Konrad eyed the town before him, about a mile off. It wasn't really a town as much is it was just sort of a largish village, not like the actual town of Wielun they'd been through some days earlier. He could see the smoke rising off of the burning buildings, could see mortar shells landing in its blocks. Occasionally, a flash of light and a heavy whump could be heard coming from the town as one of the AT guns fired at some target on the horizon, augmenting the near-constant chatter of machine-gun fire.

With a familiar whine and roar, the Stukas the Konrad had seen earlier drowned out all the rest of the miasma of battlefield noise. Swooping out of the heavy cloud cover, they were already in their dives. Konrad watched with subdued admiration as they screamed down on their targets and released a host of 250 and 500-pound bombs. Gerhard, I really don't understand why you wanted to be in those giant bombers instead of the Stukas. I can't imagine how terrifying it would be to be on the end of that kind of attack.

When the Stukas peeled off, Konrad motioned his men up. All their eyes were on him, waiting for the word.
"ALL PLATOONS - FORWARD! TAKE OUT THOSE GUNS!"
Again demonstrating terrific unity of purpose, the Jaeger-Kompanie leaped forward, and began quickly forging ahead at breakneck speed to their destination. Konrad, of course, led the charge, with a squad of about eight men right on him, the rest moving up in line on his right and left. The entire company began to sweep up on the town from the southwest, hunched low.

Polish fire chattered and rattled over their heads. The land was mostly flat and grassy - it made for quick advancing, but there would be a definite paucity of cover if the Poles were going to get the range. Konrad gritted his teeth as he sprinted the seemingly endless expanse. He could feel himself beginning to sweat, and not just from the warm, muggy weather. But it wasn't from fear - no, no way in hell. He'd faced worse odds before, faced more terrifying things than this little skirmish. It wasn't fear or exertion that was sending his every sense into the stratosphere right now - it was anticipation. And a very controlled, powerful rage, of which his ability to summon it had been one of his proudest achievements. He could feel his lungs pumping like an engine, propelling him mechanically, inexorably forward, a sound echoed by the 127 men of his company, all down the line, like the cylinders of some massive fighting machine.

Then, with about 100 yards to go, the Poles began finding the range.

Rifles started to crack from the buildings of Sieradz. The town was on a slight rise from the field they were charging through, no more than 8-10 feet high, but it afforded the Poles quite a panoramic field of fire. On his peripheral vision, Konrad could see black shapes suddenly vanish from his field of view as a few of his men were hit and fell to the ground. There was no sense in stopping to help them until the place had been secured, however.

Breathing like warhorses, Konrad and the Kompanie dashed to the slight incline and threw themselves prone onto it, using it as cover from the Polish volleys. It wasn't particularly inspiring cover, but it suited the job well enough. Konrad grabbed a grenade off of his belt, twisted the head, and threw it upwards, towards the closest building. He could hear the smash of glass, and a few seconds later, a powerful detonation. Without hesitation, he scrambled back to his feet and charged up the incline, spraying bullets from his Schmeisser at the buildings as he did so.

Seeing no Poles left in the frontage of the building he had thrown the grenade through, he quickly vaulted through the smashed windows of the house. Checking his corners, he caught a Pole trying to hobble off in retreat through a side room, and cut him down. He turned around, and could see the troopers fanning out behind him, bursts of firing ensuing as they spread through the buildings.

He unfolded the map on the floor. Motioning the rest of his squad over, who were coming in the window behind him, he began picking out targets on the map.
"HEIMDALL! GET OVER TO B PLATOON AND TELL THEM TO TAKE OUT THE GUN THREE BLOCKS EAST OF HERE! RALL, GET TO C PLATOON AND TELL THEM TO SHIFT OVER 6 BLOCKS EAST, LEAPFROG B PLATOON-"
He was rudely interrupted by a Polish rifle shot arcing into the wall about six inches above his head. Most of the soldiers flinched, but Konrad kept himself under control.
"- AND HIT THE GUN OVER THERE! MACKENSEN, GET D PLATOON AND TELL THEM TO MOVE FOUR BLOCKS WEST TO THE GUN THERE! WE RALLY SIX BLOCKS NORTH AFTER THEY'RE DEALT WITH! UNDERSTOOD?"

The soldiers scanned the map, committing it to memory, then nodded. Konrad flicked his head back towards the window, and they bolted out of it to their new assignments. A second later, A Platoon's MG team, bearing the disassembled pieces of their MG34, tramped their way past Konrad and set up at the house's forward window. A few moments later, the whole house reverberated with the already-legendary sound of the MG's bullets ripping out at 900 RPM. Pictures fell off of the wall and shattered from the staccato sonic force. The sounds of Polish counter-fire withered away and vanished like an ice cube in the sun in the face of the fearsome onslaught the two men put up.

Konrad loaded a new mag into his Schmeisser, and prepared to lead A Kompanie forward to finish this as quickly as possible.

About an hour later...

Once again, Konrad was left confused at the conclusion of a battle.

It had been a hot fight taking out those guns - the SS men hadn't suffered overmuch in the way of losses, but it definitely hadn't been bloodless, either. After they'd finished the job, they'd proceeded with the second part of the plan, securing the roads out of town. Konrad's A Platoon and C Platoon (Lenner's people) were currently astride the road heading northeast, towards Lodz and Warsaw, while B and D platoons were sitting on the road heading southeast.

But that was all they were doing...sitting. It was all they could do. C Platoon was facing outside, up the road, while Konrad, to his surprise and dismay, actually had to orient themselves backwards, to cover the town they'd just came through. Again, this was a matter of necessity.

The town of Sieradz was an unlucky one in this regard. Evidently, the German advance on the place had come upon them so quickly, the people of the town hadn't thought it was necessary to flee until it was far too late. As a result, they'd been trapped in their basements and cellars when they'd been surrounded by the Jaegerkompanie's tanks and trucks, and hid in their bolt-holes when Konrad charged the Kompanie through the town to destroy the hasty antitank defenses that had been set up along the fringes of the town by the Polish infantry regiment stationed in the town. The infantry had been routed, and had fled the area already. But the civilians were left behind.

In short, for the last half-hour A Platoon was stacked up on the roadway against a mob of angry, terrified Polish civilians trying to flee up the road to Lodz. Meanwhile, about ten meters up the road, C Platoon was the only thing standing between the town and a potential Polish counterattack coming from the northeast, the direction where the Polish infantry had fled and could be regrouping. The armor and reinforcements that Rohr had promised had yet to arrive. Konrad had maybe 30 troopers total on the scene, many of whom were starting to run low on ammo. He was out of contact and out of sight with the other platoons, which likely meant they were in a similar situation. The road and the surrounding environs were flat and grassy - no cover. But Konrad had been ordered to hold the road from anybody who was Polish, and he intended to carry that order out. They would be the vise, even if this vise didn't have much metal behind it.

But they didn't have the people to actually disperse the mob, either. Every time someone got within five feet of the impromptu line A Platoon had set up, there'd be a shot or a burst of fire, and they'd scuttle back. They were quickly getting restless. If they were to swarm up at them, A Platoon might not be able to pour enough lead on them quick enough to avoid them getting in hand-to-hand range. Konrad , Schmeisser pointed directly was suddenly very cognizant of his SS dagger, chafing against his hip. He hadn't used a knife on an enemy in a long time. He wouldn't hesitate to use it again if that's what it came down to, but he didn't like their odds.

The afternoon sun beat hot against their black uniforms. The mob drew closer and closer with yelling, jeering faces, hands clutching rocks and bottles. Clearly, they'd seen that the SS men, regardless of their fearsome weapons and uniforms, were outnumbered at least twelve to one. Would they take their chances and charge?

But before they could surge forwards, another sound could be heard over the yells and angered cries - engine noise, loud and getting louder, from the other side of the town. The mob began to lose their focus on Konrad's men and turned the opposite direction, to face the noise now confronting them. And seconds later, they began to panic, scream and scatter, to trample all over themselves and each other to escape, as the fearsome death-rattle of gunfire began to accompany the guttural, hollow roar of the engines.

Konrad's grip on his weapon began to slacken, and he unconsciously stood on his tiptoes to try and see what exactly was approaching between the buildings. And when he did see what was coming, he almost felt ashamed at how relived he was. In the van was the unmistakable silhouette of a Panzer II - a rather unimposing piece of machinery, but a fine vehicle for crowd-dispersal work. It was followed up by a train of trucks following behind, and it was from here that the flashes and the sound of gunfire was coming from - the troops carried within were actually firing out at the crowd through the wood slats and canvas sheeting of the open-topped trucks. All were shooting - some of them were shooting above the heads of the crowd.

Others weren't.

Eventually, after no small amount of shooting and gear-grinding, the lead Panzer pushed its way through the crowd and ground to a stop in front of A Platoon. Right behind it, the trucks began to slow and stop, their passengers immediately debarked guns at the ready, and pursued the fleeing crowd - all except one man in an officer's uniform, who approached Konrad, a smile on his face, the insignia of a Captain on his sleeve. It was an older man - he had the look of a career officer about him. The odd thing, however, was that he wasn't wearing a normal Wehrmacht or SS uniform, and neither were his men - they appeared to be wearing irregular ones, that varied from man to man. They all had the same insignias, however. The officer was wearing something that seemed almost like a police officer's uniform.

Konrad returned the salute. "Much obliged, Captain. Command left us out here to dry, and our ammo was running low. Are you our reinforcements?"
The captain shook his head no. "While I'm glad we could help, Captain von Sporrenburg, we weren't assigned to help you. We were just told you'd have cleared the way already, so that we could begin our mission within the city limits."
Konrad was confused. "But the town's basically been cleared, or at least, it will be very soon. Why would you be ordered to stay here?"
the stranger smiled. "You misunderstand our purpose, Captain. Despite our weaponry, our assignment is not frontline combat. We operate independently of the divisions - we answer directly to General von Reichenau and General Heydrich."
Konrad recalled the Generals' names, of course - commander of the 10th Army, the same one Konrad was attached to. And nobody needed to be reminded who Heydrich was.
"What is your assignment, then?"

The man's grin grew wider. "Depoliticization, my friend. Neutralization. Purification. All of the above, and a few more besides. Captain von Sporrenburg, does the word 'Einsatzgruppen' mean anything to you?"
Suddenly, it all made sense. The word did mean something to Konrad - he'd heard that the SS would be deploying special groups of combined arms soldiers, almost like more mobile Kampfgruppes, drawn from the ranks of the Wehrmacht, SS, Teutonic militias of Freikorps operating in Poland, and even national police forces, into Poland to help secure areas behind the lines. But this was hardly behind the lines.
"It does indeed. But you're operating rather close to the action, aren't you?"
"Then you know the purpose of our work. And it's true, we are, but this place is important. You see, Sieradz is home to an anomalously large...Semitic population."

He pointed off in the distance. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you can actually see the synagogue there. As such, we made it very clear we didn't want any Jews, or anybody else on our lists, escaping the area before we had a chance to come through and...depoliticize them. Basically, it's a standardized procedure - go through the towns, neutralize our targets and any other potentially subversive targets of opportunity we find - Gypsies, the retarded, prostitutes, civic leaders, rabbis, teachers...those kinds of people, and then proceed to gain control over as much of the Jewish population as possible and move them into cities where we can keep a hard eye on them. Hence, your orders to hold against civilians, which you fulfilled admirably. We didn't want anybody getting away. And when we're done, Sieradz will be swept clean of all of these parasites and rabble, like they were never here."

Konrad laughed at the neatness of it. Off in the distance, he could see one of the Einsatz men smashing a window of a shop and throwing a grenade in, cheered on by his friends. One of them had a terrified Polish girl almost in a headlock.
"Your people seem to be calling all the shots for us, Captain, and I don't even know your name. You have me at a disadvantage."
The Einsatzgruppen man held out his hand to shake, the grin still on his face.

"Kapitan Alfred von Straube, Inspector of the Kustrin-Polizei, formerly of the Kaiser's Army, and, in a few months' time, of the Wehrmacht, to serve Germany at war once again. It's an honor."

[Kouralia]

Now you start to get an idea of why Straube wanted some pre-emptive absolution thrown his way.

September 4th, 1939
Sieradz, Poland
1120 Hours

So, basically, what you're saying is we need to trap his head in a desk drawer and slam it repeatedly, hmm?

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Now you start to get an idea of why Straube wanted some pre-emptive absolution thrown his way.

September 4th, 1939
Sieradz, Poland
1120 Hours

So, basically, what you're saying is we need to trap his head in a desk drawer and slam it repeatedly, hmm?

BUT NO! THAT WOULD BE BREAKING THE RULES! HE MADE A DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL!
WHAT WOULD SMYTHE SAY?!

On a totally unrelated note, if only we had a few squadron members who were out of the room (or indeed, out of the country MIA at the time) suddenly return, who had no idea such a deal was struck, and as such had pitch-perfect plausible deniability regarding the mysterious and extremely gruesome death of a German officer...

[Kouralia]

So, basically, what you're saying is we need to trap his head in a desk drawer and slam it repeatedly, hmm?

BUT NO! THAT WOULD BE BREAKING THE RULES! HE MADE A DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL!
WHAT WOULD SMYTHE SAY?!

On a totally unrelated note, if only we had a few squadron members who were out of the room (or indeed, out of the country MIA at the time) suddenly return, who had no idea such a deal was struck, and as such had pitch-perfect plausible deniability regarding the mysterious and extremely gruesome death of a German officer...

I can't remember, had I left the room to fetch tea by that point?



If so, then Smythe has an array of assets that can be used to inflict the greatest of pain and bloodletting on the Einsatzgruppen. Including a straight razor. *nods*

[The Tiger Kingdom]

BUT NO! THAT WOULD BE BREAKING THE RULES! HE MADE A DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL!
WHAT WOULD SMYTHE SAY?!

On a totally unrelated note, if only we had a few squadron members who were out of the room (or indeed, out of the country MIA at the time) suddenly return, who had no idea such a deal was struck, and as such had pitch-perfect plausible deniability regarding the mysterious and extremely gruesome death of a German officer...

I can't remember, had I left the room to fetch tea by that point?

There's not a single Excalibur who'll say otherwise, should it come to that!

If so, then Smythe has an array of assets that can be used to inflict the greatest of pain and bloodletting on the Einsatzgruppen. Including a straight razor. *nods*

Remember, everyone, the keyword is "distasteful"!

[Kouralia]

If so, then Smythe has an array of assets that can be used to inflict the greatest of pain and bloodletting on the Einsatzgruppen. Including a straight razor. *nods*

Remember, everyone, the keyword is "distasteful"!

Hmm? Oh, he's Enlisted, he's allowed to do it. You're Officers, and as far as Smythe is concerned, your doing such a thing would be 'crass and impolite'.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Remember, everyone, the keyword is "distasteful"!

Hmm? Oh, he's Enlisted, he's allowed to do it. You're Officers, and as far as Smythe is concerned, your doing such a thing would be 'crass and impolite'.

I was trying to set the mentality for whatever sordid acts were to be performed upon Straube (should that happen) for the group as a whole. Don't worry, I wasn't preemptively criticizing anyone's ideas for getting a bit of payback from him.
Believe me, if this were to occur by the time Page came back, for one, you wouldn't be able to hold him back from trying to rip out a Nazi's vertebrae and see how many you could shove up their nose.

[Kouralia]

Hmm? Oh, he's Enlisted, he's allowed to do it. You're Officers, and as far as Smythe is concerned, your doing such a thing would be 'crass and impolite'.

I was trying to set the mentality for whatever sordid acts were to be performed upon Straube (should that happen) for the group as a whole. Don't worry, I wasn't preemptively criticizing anyone's ideas for getting a bit of payback from him.
Believe me, if this were to occur by the time Page came back, for one, you wouldn't be able to hold him back from trying to rip out a Nazi's vertebrae and see how many you could shove up their nose.

Of course I could take the view of trying to hold people back.

Air Force Police + SSgt Smythe Vs Excalibur Sqn

But which is better? There's only one way to find out...

[Grenartia]

yes, but im still worried. british weather is unpredictable I hear.

That's why, even though our 'hot' is a spring for Italy, our 'cold' is an Autumn for Norway, and our 'rain' is usually a 'pretty dry day' for Asia at some times of the year, we always talk about the weather.

It's so irritating, and usually it's shit. Like, just shit. Not horridly bad, just depressingly grey.

Your "hot" is a cool fall day in Louisiana.

The only thing I can see being an issue is the character's Japanese/Soviet past, though you'll have to wait until Monday for Tiger's verdict.

Might want to change his ranks to a Soviet one of Senior Sergeant of Aviation and an IJN one of Pretty Officer Second Class.

Though, any chance your guy was running around China in the late 1920s/early 1930s?

Why? I mean,it might be cool if he also saw action in China too...

Oh, and for those of you who gave me advice about my app; thank you.

I think that your character could have some background in martial arts if you wanted him to. I know taekwondo wasn't around yet, but given his close relationship with the Japanese landowner, it doesn't sound like much of a stretch to think he might've been taught something in addition to flying.

FUCKING ZOMBIES!!!!

http://www.nationstates.net/page=news

I wouldn't recommend it, they can be rather tempermental, and most of the important parts for that have rotted away anyway... I never will understand Necrophiliacs...

Getting AQ'd and sigged.

[Kassaran]

I wouldn't recommend it, they can be rather tempermental, and most of the important parts for that have rotted away anyway... I never will understand Necrophiliacs...

Getting AQ'd and sigged.

I am rather proud of that quip...

[Yalos]

Why? I mean,it might be cool if he also saw action in China too...

Oh, and for those of you who gave me advice about my app; thank you.

I think that your character could have some background in martial arts if you wanted him to. I know taekwondo wasn't around yet, but given his close relationship with the Japanese landowner, it doesn't sound like much of a stretch to think he might've been taught something in addition to flying.

Yeah, well I have sword fighting, though If Tiger approves, I might like to add in some good old fashioned, hand to hand, Karate! Hyah!

Joking aside...where do I start posting? Is there a mega thread, because it might be weird if I suddenly starting posting in a mission thread out of the blue...

[Morrdh]

I think that your character could have some background in martial arts if you wanted him to. I know taekwondo wasn't around yet, but given his close relationship with the Japanese landowner, it doesn't sound like much of a stretch to think he might've been taught something in addition to flying.

Yeah, well I have sword fighting, though If Tiger approves, I might like to add in some good old fashioned, hand to hand, Karate! Hyah!

Joking aside...where do I start posting? Is there a mega thread, because it might be weird if I suddenly starting posting in a mission thread out of the blue...

The RAF Tempsford thread (link in first post of this thread), just post an arrival.

Since my character spent some time in the Far East, dunno whether you're interested in having our characters crossed paths before?

[Yalos]

Yeah, well I have sword fighting, though If Tiger approves, I might like to add in some good old fashioned, hand to hand, Karate! Hyah!

Joking aside...where do I start posting? Is there a mega thread, because it might be weird if I suddenly starting posting in a mission thread out of the blue...

The RAF Tempsford thread (link in first post of this thread), just post an arrival.

Since my character spent some time in the Far East, dunno whether you're interested in having our characters crossed paths before?

I think that would be cool, but it would have to have been just a brief meeting.

[The balkens]

So, basically, what you're saying is we need to trap his head in a desk drawer and slam it repeatedly, hmm?

BUT NO! THAT WOULD BE BREAKING THE RULES! HE MADE A DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL!
WHAT WOULD SMYTHE SAY?!

On a totally unrelated note, if only we had a few squadron members who were out of the room (or indeed, out of the country MIA at the time) suddenly return, who had no idea such a deal was struck, and as such had pitch-perfect plausible deniability regarding the mysterious and extremely gruesome death of a German officer...

dibs on Michael.

[The balkens]

ah, GTA V. probably the best game ive played in a good long while.

best moment is when Trevor finds out he lost the contracts to the O'Neil's. hilarious.

[Kouralia]

ah, GTA V. probably the best game ive played in a good long while.

best moment is when Trevor finds out he lost the contracts to the O'Neil's. hilarious.

best moment is when a level 46 bounty hunter who's right up your arse as you speed around Los Santos suddenly explodes because you hit him with a combat pistol one too many times.