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Frontlines: The German Assault (IC, Open)

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Independent States of Tula
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Frontlines: The German Assault (IC, Open)

Postby Independent States of Tula » Sat Mar 14, 2020 3:07 pm



Current Date: June 26, 1941


1st Campaign: Operation Barbarossa | Chapter One: Battle of Białystok–Minsk





Ostroshitski Gorodok, Occupied Soviet Union, Oberst Dierk Holst

The map before the regimental commander was covered with figures showing the approximate positions of both friendly and enemy units in and around the area of Minsk. Aside from the many nigh unpronounceable names upon the map of enemy villages and towns, it seemed all was well for the Wehrmacht. The Bolsheviks had put up next to no resistance to the German advance which had seen the Wehrmacht advance hundreds of kilometers in a mere four days as well as the situation the Oberst found himself in. Currently to his southwest the Bolsheviks were performing a haphazard attempt at a breakout as hundreds of thousands of Soviet soldiers found themselves within an ever closing pocket. Their last hope lay in the city of Minsk, which German units were already assaulting in order to fully close said pocket, according to reports the fighting was fierce but ever gaining in the Wehrmacht's favor.

Unfortunately for Oberst Holst, the glory to be gained by taking Minsk was not to be his, as his regiment had been chosen instead to guard the pocket's northeastern flank from any Bolshevik units that may be in position to attack the pocket from the other side. Intelligence had pointed to that possibility to be unlikely at best, so in reality Holst's men would more than likely simply be idle until such time that the 2nd Panzer Group could advance once again. Nevertheless Holst had made certain to be thorough in the preparations of his regiment's defensive line, just in case the "nigh impossibility" (as one Intelligence Officer had put it) of a Soviet counter attack came to be far more possible than expected. His 1st Battalion had been ordered to a farming commune north of the town Holst had chosen for his HQ, alongside them the 1st Company of his attached Panzer Battalion would be assigned to the commune as well due to the Oberst's belief that such a point was most likely to be attacked due to both its bridges over the nearby river as well as it's thick forest cover from any recon planes the Luftwaffe might have out. To the 1st Battalion's Southeast the 3rd Battalion would also be stationed while the 4th Battalion would take positions to the 1st Battalion's West.

2nd Battalion was to be held in reserve with the rest of the Panzer Battalion in Ostroshitski Gorodok with the Regimental HQ in order to respond to any fierce attacks that could potentially push back Oberst Holst's forces, as unlikely as that was. Unfortunately, this did lead Holst to the conclusion that the area he'd been told to guard was too large, his regiment was stretched over six kilometers in total...something his higher ups had ignored as they had placed more priority on assaulting Minsk and fully closing the pocket rather than protecting the pocket's outer flanks. In the end, Holst was informed that his Regiment would have to do, and that although his due diligence had been "appreciated" it was undue as the Soviets would not be counter attacking in the current state they were in. Oberst Holst for his part simply hoped that Military Intelligence was right on this one.




Farming Commune North of Ostroshitski Gorodok, Occupied Soviet Union, Leutnant Heinrich Gunther

The last four days had been nothing but aches and pains for Heinrich as he and his men were crammed into the back of an Opel Blitz like a can of sardines. So despite being ordered to dig a firing trench with his platoon to cover his company's northern flank, Heinrich was in a decent mood as he was finally able to stretch his legs. Aside from a few grumbles here and there, it seemed the Leutnant's men agreed with him on the mood as they dug just a few tens of meters north of a dirt road intersection their company had been ordered to hold alongside the bridge behind it over the river. Some onlookers might have found it strange that a platoon's officer was digging a trench with his enlisted men, but Heinrich was not a normal officer, and he prided himself on that as well. After fighting with these men through France and Yugoslavia, Heinrich had learned that the best way to inspire those he led was not just to be brave in battle as he fought alongside them, but to do all things by them.

As such, Heinrich took pride in the fact that he slept in the same conditions as his men, ate alongside them, conversed with them like they were friends and family, and in general treated them like the second family they'd become with Heinrich as their pseudo father. Over time Heinrich had earned both his men's respect, and their trust, and Heinrich knew how valuable both of those could be in the heat of battle after needing use of both in France and Yugoslavia...and soon he'd need to call upon them again here in the Soviet Union. As he dug his part of the firing trench, Heinrich wondered how soon he'd need to call upon his men again in the face of this new foe of the Reich.




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Hypron
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Postby Hypron » Sat Mar 14, 2020 7:09 pm

"So Leutnant, Do you know where we are going?" "Not really, I know which direction to go. So I suggest, Unterfeldwebel,that you focus on driving." It's been 4 days since the beginning of Operation Barbarossa as the higher-ups called it. His company, the 2nd Panzer Company, was assigned to the XVII Panzer Division for the operation. After 4 days of almost non-stop movement through the Soviet Union, although hoping to be taking part in the major battle forming around the Soviet city of Minsk, he soon realized that they were moving northeast. Apparently, they were stationed with a Motorized Infantry battalion, although the division it is from is unknown to him.

Using the onboard radio, he radios Leutnant Rothman, commander of a Panzer III J. on his left flank."Leutnant Rothman, do you have any idea where we are going?" Rothman is a friend of mine who I made in the Invasion of France. "Well, sir, we are heading Northeast. Other than that, I have no idea where we are headed, besides deeper into enemy territory." "Well, that's just great. Back to what you are doing Leutnant." "Sir, I see the 1st Company's tanks ahead. We are where we need to be." "Excellent, halt the tank and let me look around." He points his head out, noticing multiple buildings around the 1st Company's tanks. Reentering his tank, he looks at his map. " Unterfeldwebel Achenbach, can you figure out where we are?" "Give me the map, sir." Achenbach was the driver of Kuhn's Panzer IV, currently one of the most advanced vehicles Germany has. "Well, sir, if the map is correct, we are a few miles Northeast of Minsk in a small farming commune." "I'll be back in a moment."

Getting out of his tank, he walks over to Leutnant Rothman's vehicle. Knocking on the side, Rothman gets out and engages in conversation with Kuhn. "Well, we ain't getting into a major battle, but we are getting a break." "I can agree with you there Rothman, but where are we going to get our glory?" "Well Kuhn, there will be plenty of chances to earn a Knights Cross of the Iron Cross and be promoted. Sitting out one battle won't be so bad for you. Plus, I've seen your skill in France. I believe you will do fine." "Well, Rothman, you better hope I do fine for your sakes as well, I command the unit." "Your right about that one, Kuhn. Well, let's get settled in. Were gonna be here a while." "Indeed, to your tank."
Last edited by Hypron on Sat Mar 14, 2020 7:15 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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The Hoosier Alliance
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Postby The Hoosier Alliance » Sat Mar 14, 2020 8:14 pm

Leutnant Hans Mehler observed his men as they entrenched themselves on their side of the river. The men of the third platoon were finishing their trenches and firing positions as per their orders. Hans and his men were to guard the right flank of the small commune they found themselves occupying, along with the rest of the 1st Company, and the leutnant meant to do to just that. All of his squads, as well as his own command squad, dug trenches around the bridge they were to protect, giving them a clear line of fire of anyone attempting to enter the commune from their direction. His sniper team had set up on the other side of the river in order to provide the company with cover fire and support.

"Leutnant."

Hans turned to face Unterfeldwebel Hertz. "Yes?"

"The men have finished the trench line. The MG-34s have been set up, the positions are as fortified as they can be, and the sniper team is in position. Do you have further orders?"

"Make sure they keep their eyes open, Unterfeldwebel. They can take a well-earned rest, but we mustn't be caught off guard by the Russians. Keep their eyes peeled. I will be doing the same."

The officer nodded, saluted, and walked off to pass on the message. Mehler was itching for a fight since Operation Barbarossa began, and he fully expected to get his wish soon.
Last edited by The Hoosier Alliance on Sun Mar 15, 2020 6:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States
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Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Mon Mar 16, 2020 10:48 am

Farming Commune North of Ostroshitski Gorodok
Occupied Soviet Union
Leutnant Franz-Josef Müller


“So, God’s on our side, yeah?”

“Yeah”

“And God will grant us, Christians, victory against the godless Bolsheviks, yeah?”

“Yeah”

“So, God will protect us from harm, yeah?”

“Yeah”

“And God is all-powerful and all-knowing, yeah?”

“Yeah”

“So… why the hell are we digging this trench?”

Fritz König stuck his shovel in the ground and straightened his back, which was beginning to ache from the labour. His spine clicked with the sound of vertebrae snapping back into their proper position, and he began to lean on his shovel, looking across the stretch of farmland towards the forest beyond. August Brunswick also put down his shovel, picking up his canteen to take a swig of water. He and Fritz had found each other in a shared interest of discussing theological topics, and exploring the religious arguments of their military service. This led to arguments that they greatly enjoyed, but which the other occupants of their Opel Blitz found insufferable.

“We… well… because…” Fritz began, but he could not formulate a coherent thought, both because of the complexity of the question and the fact that he was dog-tired with all the digging they had been doing.

“I fathom it’s for the same reason that we have those” Fritz finally said, pointing towards the trio of Kar98 rifles stacked just behind the new trench line. The standard weapon of the Wehrmacht, their sword in their crusade against the communist menace of the Soviet Union.

“Alright” August said, smiling a malicious smile. This was exactly what he was hoping Fritz would say.

“So, why do we have those?” he added. “Why do we go into the Soviet Union armed to the teeth, tanks, planes, you name it? Why not just stroll into the Soviet Union naked?”

“Because they would shoot us?” came the voice of a third soldier, an ammo carrier by the name of Uri Thaler. He was a farmer’s son, and far less used to the kind of argumentation university students like Fritz and August were trained in. August, the lawyer-in-training, made a point of being theatrical with his answer.

“Ah! But where, then, does God’s protection end? Why does God protect the armed soldier, but not the unarmed civilian?” he said. He felt that, what he said, was very clever. For Uri, it just sounded like an argument for atheism, the same he had heard communists make before the NSDAP came to power. He couldn’t be less interested in this argument if he tried. Clearly, god was on their side, he did not have a long-winded argument about it with a lawyer and a doctor.

“What do you think, then?” Fritz asked August, who shrugged.

“Dunno” he answered. “Maybe we should just take the Blitz and drive down the road to Minsk, and they will magically surrender…”

Fortuna favet fortibus” a fourth voice said, coming from the back of the trench. He had the sun in his back, so the soldiers had some problem recognising who it came from. But the voice, unwavering like a rock, and deep like a dark cavern, was unmistakable.

“Or in High German: God does not favour idiots” he translated.

“If you are dumb enough to take the Blitz and drive down that road to Minsk, be my guest. Just don’t expect God to save you from the 45mm” he added. “Don’t blame God for your stupid decisions, is what I’m trying to say. So, men…”

He picked up a shovel and threw it at August.

“God favours deep trenches”

Lieutenant Müller, accompanied by first sergeant Königsberger, continued down their trench row, currently being dug a few meters south of the eastbound road. Lieutenant Müller was an intriguing appearance. He had the demeanour of a priest, walking with his hands behind his back as if walking through a garden, stopping here and there to admire his men’s handiwork. His appearance was one of a 18th century officer however, clean-shaven and wearing his officer’s blade on his side. He looked like he had marched in from another time, not just by the way he looked but by the way he acted. His quotation of scripture was perfect, and he could call upon that wisdom whenever there was a chance to.

“Take heed, keep on the alert; for you do not know when the appointed time will come” he said absent minded, staring across the agricultural fields towards the east. Somewhere in that direction was an army of a few million strong, tirelessly working to halt their advance, headed by the most brutal dictator the continent had ever known.

“Mark?” Königsberger asked. Franz-Josef nodded.

“And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons;” Königsberger answered. “Do you think our entire campaign will be like this? The rotten house come tumbling down?”

“I don’t know, and I do not dare hope. Whatever God has in store, we will weather it” he said. “Whether it’s ten Bolshevik peasants with muzzle-loaders or a million demons from hell, we will persist. We are Knights of God, after all”

“I thought God did not favour idiots?” he sergeant replied. Franz-Josef smiled in return, skipping across the trench to its front, overlooking the field before them.

“Königsberger, we either win, or we die with a bloody bayonet, with no rounds left to spend. Either way, we are certain of a key to the Kingdom of Heaven”

That remark got a few cheers and smiles from the men able to hear it, currently in the process of shoring up their trench and measuring out slits for the machine guns to fire through. Sergeant Königsberger could not help but be contaminated by the virulent optimism and bravado of his commander, his left hand resting on the hilt of his blade, like Caesar about to cross the Rubicon.

“Gott will es” the sergeant answered, and he took up a spade to help his soldiers. Their spirits were high, emboldened by their faith in God and victory, who in their eyes were one and the same.
Last edited by Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States on Mon Mar 16, 2020 10:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Vrijstaat Limburg
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Postby Vrijstaat Limburg » Tue Mar 17, 2020 1:00 am

Image
Schütze Jan Hörchs from Gruppe "Dora" constructing a forward foxhole in the forest north of the bridge.


LEUTNANT EDUARD EGON VON SCHARNSDORF
2. ZUG, 2. KOMPANIE, I. BATAILLON, INFANTERIE-DIVISION (MOT.) 71
1312 HOURS LOCAL, JUNE 26TH 1941
WOODS NORTH OF OSTROSHITSKI GORODOK, MINSK REGION, BELARUSSIAN SSR



"ACHTUNG!"

Unterfeldwebel Georg Wehrs, lovingly called "Frontschwein" or "Battlefield pig" by his men, rose to salute the second lieutenant, and immediately stood to attention. The other men in Gruppe Cäsar, in fear of being punished for insubordination, as was the rule with Von Scharnsdorf, quickly dropped their spades and did so too. It was a funny sight: A bunch of grown men, standing around in holes in the ground, saluting a boy of only 23. Von Scharnsdorf, who had taken precautionary measures and was now wearing a Stahlhelm like the rest of his men, tipped the side of his hardhat, and spoke firmly: "Rührt euch."

The soldiers quickly stood more loosely and comfortably, with some placing their hands behind their backs. As the men stood easy, Eduard grabbed a handkerchief from one of his pockets, and wiped his face. The sun was blazing, and Belarussia's land climate with its hot summers and unbearably cold winters did not suit Eduard well. The sun shined upon him gracefully, and carried with it the heat of a warm summer's day. The troop had gotten quite comfortable in their new foxholes, and had taken off some of their clothes and kit to tolerate the heat whilst working. Their platoon leader, who normally disliked these acts of indiscipline, batted an eye, and tried to regain the Gruppe's attention by coughing. The men looked up at the lieutenant from their foxholes, and it didn't take long before Von Scharnsdorf spoke up again, saying: "The bolshevik is on the other end of this forest. God willing, we will receive an order to attack, to annihilate their forces and capture ground for the fatherland. Some of you were with me in France, some of you think that this forest is like the forêts of Burgundy." he stopped for a moment to look around himself, and to take a good hard look at the dark trees that rose between the foxholes like spires. "You are dead wrong. These Russian woods are wild, untamed, much like Russian himself. The soviet will be back in the night, to try and take back what we have taken from him."

He quickly noticed that it would be important to switch the subject, to give the men some actual information, as to keep his message fresh. "You may have noticed that, unlike your comrades in the company, we have positioned ourselves in this savage forest. The truth is, gentlemen, that this position is so extremely valuable because it offers us concealment. We are the first to defend the village behind us. We are the first to guard and hold the bridge behind us, a bridge that will be important for future operations within this area, within the whole of this godforsaken land of Weißrussland. If we were not here, the Russians could take the forest uncontended, our brothers in arms would be gawking at them, hiding in their trenches on the other side of the river unsure of what to do. Soldiers, you know who I am, you know how I operate. This platoon is first in the fight, now and always. These woods are now German because of your service, and your service alone, so make the Russians bleed if they try to take that from you."

Some murmurs had gotten about, and died down soon after. Von Scharnsdorf smiled, and continued speaking: "You may also wonder why you are building foxholes instead of trenches. Ask yourselves, gentlemen: what happens if you are all sitting in one line, all bunched up? The soviet will be alerted to your presence, and a single hand grenade will nullify all the hard work you put into that trench, much like it will nullify your lives. I tell you, gentlemen: foxholes are much better! The enemy will not be drawn to your position if you conceal your Schützenloch with shrubs and leaves, and you'll be able to respond to their advances through precise rifle fire. They cannot concentrate fire on you, but you can concentrate fire on them. He gestured over to the machine gun teams, who had set up bases of fire further back. Von Scharnsdorf didn't like playing on the defensive, but he did find it important to maximize his troop's efficiency, to make them look well-entrenched, well-organized and capable. He desperately wanted to show off what he had experienced in Poland, what he had been taught at the academy, and most importantly, what he had devised on his own, and though he could only think about rushing through that forest, driving to Moscow and not once stopping on the way, he buried his thoughts, and tried to think of his defences.

"Gut so, Männer. Weitermachen." he then declared, telling the men to be as they were. They continued shoveling where they had to. Some cleaned their weapons, some were even playing cards in their foxholes. Most Schützenlöcher had one or two people in it, occasionally three, but never more than that. Von Scharnsdorf had learnt what happened in the war before this one, and thought that foxholes, though very bare and irreliable in the long-term, could prove to be sufficient and even effective for what he saw as a "momentary defensive line", that would likely be abandoned once the troops had to push up and finally take more ground.

Eddy saw that other troops had set up their lines on the other side of the Usyazha, the river that ran through Oroshitski Gorodok. In contrast to his platoon, they had set up traditional trenches, supported by sheets of metal and all that. All one needed to build a sturdy foxhole was a spade, but to support an entire line of trenches you needed materials to keep them upright. Eduard had ordered some of his troops to also build some shallow trenches besides the river, to act as a fallback line, but he didn't expect that he'd have to use it. Indeed, Eddy took his binoculars that hung around his neck, and peered over at the men from the 1. Kompanie. They were sitting out in the open, much like the rest of the battailon, and Eduard could not comprehend why their officers hadn't told them to push on into the woods, to capture more ground and to conceal themselves there. The bridges were by no means 'secure': Most of the troops were still sitting behind these bridges, and would thus risk the destruction of this vital piece of infrastructure if it came to blows with the Red Army. Thank God, Von Scharnsdorf thought, for the initiative that German subalterns could claim, and for the OKW's decision to rely on the judgment of individual junior officers. He'd heard rumours that capable officers with the bolsheviks were shot by their NKVD commanders for acting semi-autonomously, even if they achieved their objectives with fewer casualties. This "Union" was a mess, and through the glorious German army, the rotten structure that was the USSR would soon collapse.

He put his binoculars away again, carefully placing them in the bag that was still bungling before his chest. Sections Anton, Dora and Cäsar had set up positions in the woods, he knew, and section Bertha had, in coordination with the mortar squad and the Zugtrupp, made a line of provisional trenches that ran from the bridge to the edge of the forest. This trench, in comparison to the other trenches with the other platoons, was not meant to serve as a combat trench, but rather as a means of getting troops important cover if they had to move through open areas. It was a "line" from the front to a "support trench", to put it in the terms of the previous war, and though Von Scharnsdorf had denied the men that built the trench materials that one would normally need to keep a trench erect, as he felt that those supplies were needed elsewhere, somewhere where they could be turned to "greater use", the lieutenant felt content with the shallowness and general effectiveness of the trench know, and expected it to hold for as long as it needed to. Earlier this very morning, the troop called a vote on what to call the new trench. Some preferred "Moskauer Straße", or "Moscow Str.", as they knew that this trench, much like anything they would dig, build or use, would get them to Moscow somehow. Others decide on "Adolf-Hitler-Gasse". Eventually, "Moskauer Straße" stuck.

Von Scharnsdorf had also set up sentries, further forward than any section foxhole. They would lie around in the mud, in heavily concealed provisional positions, and would watch for any enemy movement. Exactly six men would be covering the thick woodland. Three squads of two. The leutnant, together with his second-in-command, continually observed whether the men would go on sentry duty. So far, none had dared not to, but Eduard was already thinking of proper ways of punishment for those that did. His gaze fell upon his own command pit, his personal HQ near the riverside. Gefreiter Karl Schneider, his radioman, was busy shaving his beard. The operator had set up his backpack radio statically in the "Platoon HQ", a hole in the ground where the runners, the platoon leader, the radioman and the platoon second-in-command would meet and discuss the war back home, letters and news from home and courses of action for the platoon. Due to Scharnsdorf's position to immobilize the radio backpack, Schneider now served as a quasi-runner/radio operator that could function autonomously from his radio if necessary. The platoon's AT capability, consisting of two men with anti-tank rifles, had set up slightly further up, between the machine gunners in the centre and Dora's foxhole's. Von Scharnsdorf had explicitly told Bertha to assemble near his 'HQ', as he would use them as a mobile reserve squad, capable of reinforcing any line that was thought to break, or any machine gun position that had been disabled or destroyed. Furthermore, his troops had set up road blocks, in an effort to keep "Russian vehicles", if those swines even had any left, from moving through the roads. It was all a good way to keep the troops fit and exercised, to remind them that the soviets could, indeed, come, even if they wouldn't. In the meantime, the men waited, spending their time as sentries, playing cards or reading books.
Current platoon positions:
https://imgur.com/a/j2CFGuR
Last edited by Vrijstaat Limburg on Tue Mar 17, 2020 6:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Strathcanne
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Postby Strathcanne » Tue Mar 17, 2020 1:15 pm

Andreas took a deep drag from his cigarette before flicking it off onto the ground. Having enjoyed a rare moment of silence, a distant thud brought him back to the present, as he sat up on the top of his turret and slid down onto the ground where the rest of his crew had set up a small stove between his panzer III and one of the commune's buildings. Since taking the small settlement, things were mostly quiet. Unlike the infantry who were busy digging their trenches, the two panzer platoons had been held in reserve, and Adreas knew all too well that a few hours of rest outside of the steel boxes they called home was good for the men.

"Coffee?" asked one of his men, holding up a steaming mug.
"Thank you Fried." he said, taking it and holding it in both hands. "Don't get too comfortable, we're not sure how long we'll be here. Have you taken inventory?"
"Yeah, the manifest is clipped to your seat." said another man, standing up and stretching. "It sounds like the 9th is having a good time, doesn't it?" he added.
Andreas slowly nodded. "Just as well could be us. Thankfully they're the schwerpunkt today so we can stretch our legs."

Leaving his own crew, we walked over to the next tank in line and patted its commander on the shoulder, motioning for him to come with him. "Toldi!" he called out to the third commander, "Bring Theo for a quick huddle!". Moments later, the four men stood together while Andreas leveled with his men. "So far its been quiet here, but I don't like it will last." he said, squatting down and drawing a rough map of the settlement and its surroundings. "Our infantry is spread a bit thinner than we'Re used to. If they come from the north, I want us to sweep around the left up this road and take up firing positions supporting three company, and crossing fire to support two company. It should also put us out of reach of anything substantial set up in the woods to the north, but don't get complacent. I want us to set up like this, Theo, me, Toldi in your StuG and finally Grün. Any questions?" he finally asked, looking around at his commanders. "Excellent. Can we get a runner from HQ? Lets keep the old man informed, shall we?"

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The Frozen Forest
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Postby The Frozen Forest » Wed Mar 18, 2020 11:15 am



The bridge defended by the Second Company was a critically important objective to hold. Not only was it the closest bridge to HQ, but it was also the closest to their supply depots. Leutnant Stracke wasn't expecting combat, but after having fought in the west against the English and French he knew better than to let his guard down. His orders were to fortify the bridge against potential Soviet breakout attempts. He'd set to work doing just that, all four of his squads begin to dig in with MG34's. Their formation was that of a skirmish line or Schutzenreihe, apart from Stracke's personal Command Squad, which he decided would remain the skirmish line in order to provide assistance wherever it was needed.

Leutnant Stracke looked over a crude map of the area. He doubted a Soviet attempt to cross the river by any means other than the bridges, which would lead them into a convenient choke-point on his side of the bridge. He debated with himself if it wouldn't be more prudent to secure the bridge itself, given that it would give anyone on it a slight advantage it latitude over his men. The men caught in the pocket were likely demoralized, he doubted they could mount an effective assault. He rubbed his chin and turned at the sound of one of his men.

Gerfreiter Adalbert Zimmerman from his Third Squad saluted, Leutnant Stracke returned the salute and the Gerfreiter proceeded with his report. "Sir, Gerfreiter Zimmerman reports as ordered. Fourth Squad has completed it's fortifications and we are prepared for further instructions."

Leutnant Stracke looked out over the ground before them. Thinking about it's potential for battle. He looked back at the young man before him, scarcely into his twenties and fighting in what was sure to become a grand campaign for Germany. It was surprising that someone so young had been able to become a Gerfreiter so soon-Zimmerman was new to his platoon. According to his prior records the kid had guts and had been in combat in both the Netherlands and Belgium. Good. Stracke wasn't one to shy away from combat, close quarters was what he and his men excelled at.

"Report back to Unteroffizier Walter Lehmann. Tell him that Third Squad is to remain in position until further orders are received. I authorize him to fire upon any hostile force's that try to cross the bridge. Also, have a Soldat from Third Squad relay these orders to other Squads. You will not need written orders, my Unteroffizers understand that i prefer to issue my orders orally."

Zimmerman saluted and Stracke returned the salute. As the young Gerfreiter turned and ran back towards his position in the Schutzenreihe, Stracke once again bent over the map. No matter what way he looked at it the position of his Company was the most critical. If the other Companies broke then the Second would be able to fall back, but if they were broke then any enemy force trying to pass would have a straight shot right towards Command and all their supplies. Leutnant Stracke pulled out a photo of his wife and children and after a long moment stuck it in the breast pocket over his heart.
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Independent States of Tula
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Postby Independent States of Tula » Wed Mar 18, 2020 9:39 pm

Northern Woods of Ostroshitski Gorodok Farming Commune, Occupied Soviet Union, Major Lavrenty Orlov of 3rd Battalion of the 214th Airborne Brigade
1330 Hours Local Time, June 26th, 1941

The last four days had been every Soviet officer's nightmare, from the initial border crossings to the mass armored fists of the Germans punching straight through every type of defense the Motherland could put before it. For Major Orlov of the 214th Airborne Brigade, those last four days had not only been a personal hell but also his baptism in fire. Prior to the Nazi invasion he had not seen combat, having arrived to his post too late to face the disaster of the Winter War against the damned Finns, four days later and Major Orlov was starting to think he'd rather the Finns than the Germans.

"At least the Finns didn't have an air force to worry about." Orlov whispered to himself as he listened to the sound of roaring engines piercing the forest canopy, sounds he could be certain did not belong to Soviet aircraft.

Thankfully for Orlov and the rest of the 214th, the forest they were moving through still held its thick canopy, preventing the Nazi planes above from spotting the entire Soviet brigade slowly pushing it's way through the forest towards their objective...the Ostroshitski Gorodok Farming Commune and the bridges it held crossing the Usyazha River. Their overall mission was to secure a break-in to the rapidly closing pocket near the Belorussian city of Minsk, thereby creating a channel for the hundreds of thousands of encircled troops within to retreat back to friendly territory where they could once more effectively serve in the Union's defense. However, to first accomplish this the 214th, 7th, and 8th Airborne Brigades of the 4th Airborne Corps were to take back the crossings of the Usyazha River, then Ostroshitski Gorodok itself, before finally moving on to Minsk to complete their overall objective. To aid in this endeavor was the 20th Mechanized Corps, who's 26th and 38th Division's tanks were to provide the punching power the airborne infantry lacked to make the initial hole in the Nazi line before their Motorized Infantry exploited it on their way towards Minsk. And while that might have all sounded impressive on paper, the truth was far more sobering.

In truth, only the 4th Battalion of the 214th was at full strength with 370 Officers and Enlisted Men, and none of the brigades of either the 26th or 38th were at full strength, with the 101st Brigade alone down to only three light tanks. Even if they had been at full strength though Orlov would've questioned their effectiveness after watching scores of both the T-26 and BT tank variants being annihilated without mercy by German armor, air cover, and even their smallest anti-tank guns. In Major Orlov's estimation, despite his devotion to the cause, he believed this mission was doomed to fail.

1345 Hours Local Time

Unfortunately for Major Orlov, that reality he'd been fearing came sooner than expected. His forward elements of the battalion had run straight into the sentries of 2nd Company's Leutnant von Scharnsdorf's platoon, which in turn sparked a firefight he'd not prepared for as information from fleeing refugees had stated that the Germans were setting up in the commune itself rather than the forests. Even worst for Major Orlov and his men, the firefight was soon joined in by the machine gun nests which laid withering fire upon the forward elements of the 3rd Battalion, scything down dozens of unprepared Soviet soldiers through the thick undergrowth of the forest. So effective was the incoming rifle and machine gun fire, that Major Orlov immediately overestimated the size of the force he was facing. Grabbing three of his runners the Major gave them orders to reroute both the 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the 214th to hit what he reported was an enemy company on their left and right flanks.

The third runner was informed to tell the 101st Armored Brigade to pick up its pace from behind and exit the forest's south so as to prevent the German company from retreating back across the river. It was a risky gamble considering Orlov didn't know what lay within the commune, but he figured the tanks could reverse course if they required the cover of the forest relatively quickly. For him and the 214th, the battle had now begun as the fight for the forest began.




Ostroshitski Gorodok Farming Commune, Occupied Soviet Union, Hauptmann Erwin Salzwedel of the 2nd Company of 1st Battalion
1345 Hours Local Time, June 26th, 1941

What had originally been a calm and quiet afternoon had suddenly and inexplicably turned into chaos and pandemonium as the troops of the 2nd Company rushed to their defensive positions and their weapons as the sounds of a fierce firefight emanated from the forest to their north. Hauptmann Salzwedel himself rushed out of Battalion HQ in a dead sprint back to his company after the opening minute of gunfire had been exchanged. When he arrived at his Company HQ trench, a shallow and hollow excuse of a trench when compared to those of the last war, he found already his radioman hard at work trying to make sense of the communications coming in.

"What's the news, Unteroffizier?" Salzwedel asked as he slid into the trench.

"Sir, 3rd Company reports that it is currently engaged in a firefight with Bolsheviks across the river, they are reporting that they currently are winning with weight of fire." The radioman replied before then adding "First Company has reported a large formation of communist armor to the northeast, alongside infantry formations within the forests as well, they weren't able to give numbers though before they cut off suddenly. And honestly sir, from here it looks like there's something going on across the bridge, but I can't get a solid visual on what 2nd platoon is dealing with through the forest's undergrowth."

Salzwedel nodded at the information before looking over the lip of his trench and taking note of the flashes from muzzles, the sounds of intense combat, and the noises of men trying to yell and scream over it all that emanated from the forest. It was indeed clear that 2nd platoon was engaged in combat, and it looked heavy, but any detail more than that eluded the Hauptmann.

Thinking quickly Salzwedel ordered his radioman, "Unteroffizier, radio 1st platoon and inform Leutnant Stracke that he and his platoon are to cross the bridge and aid the 2nd platoon in repelling the enemy or failing that, assist them in retreating back across the river."

"Jawohl!" The radioman said before being stopped by the sound of tank engines across the river.

Looking over his trench again Salzwedel cursed, "Scheisse! Belay that order Unteroffizier! Inform the 1st Panzer Company instead that we are requesting aid at 2nd company's location, we have Bolshevik armor exiting the forest!"

"Jawohl!" Was all the radioman had to say before he hurriedly began switching channels.




Ostroshitski Gorodok Farming Commune, Occupied Soviet Union, Hauptmann Meinhard Gensch of the 1st Company of 1st Battalion
1345 Hours Local Time, June 26th, 1941

"Scheiße!" Hauptman Gensch swore as a Soviet 45mm shell flew overhead.

While 2nd Company had found itself on the raw end of three T-26s and several battalions of airborne infantry, 1st Company had found itself on the receiving end of 4 different battalions of infantry and the remnants of 3 brigades of Soviet armor. Overall, the situation for 1st Company was overwhelmingly bleak as Soviet tanks fired ranging shots at 1st Company's trenches and the airborne infantry were using every mg they had to try and suppress the company in their trenches. In a matter of minutes, things had turned into a living hell for the Wehrmacht soldiers on the eastern side of the river.

"Damn it all, where's my radioman?" Hauptman Gensch asked as he poked his head back over the trench, looking for the Unteroffizier he'd been speaking with casually only moments before the Soviets had thrown everything and the kitchen sink at him and his men.

Unfortunately Gensch found him, or at least the upper half of him that hadn't been vaporized by a lucky shell, gritting his teeth the Hauptman crawled over the relative safety of his company HQ trench and began crawling on his belly towards the man's upper torso and the radio strapped to his back. Machine gun rounds, rifle rounds, and shells flew all around him, and yet the grizzled Hauptmann, a veteran of the campaigns in Poland, France, and the Benelux crawled forward through sheer force of will. However, force of will was no substitute for solid cover, and so when a BT-7 fired it's main gun at the exposed German officer...it was no surprise the result as pieces of the Hauptman began raining down on the soldiers of his company still huddling within their trenches. With the death of their commander, things somehow seemed even bleaker for the 1st company.




TL;DR

1st Company has lost it's Captain, and is now without leadership aside from the platoon leaders. It is currently facing a large Soviet Tank Force and it may very well be wise to pull together each of the three platoon leaders' support points in order to call in a carpet bombing run on the Soviet Forces currently assaulting 1st Company.

2nd Company is cut in half, with one half stuck on one side of the river and the second half (or to be exact 2nd Platoon) stuck on the north side of the river unable to be supported as 3 Soviet T-26's are cutting off their line back to 2nd Company.

3rd Company is having a fun picnic...damn bastards.

1st Panzer Company is being requested by 2nd Company, though 1st Company did report a large amount of Soviet Tanks before their communications ceased.

Map of Current Positions

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Hypron
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Hypron » Wed Mar 18, 2020 11:58 pm

2nd Platoon, 1st Panzer Company, 1350 local hours, Leutnant Emil Kuhn

"What is going on, Kuhn?" Rothman asks when Kuhn came out of the Headquarters in a panic. "Well, according to our front-line intelligence, the Soviets are launching a full scale attack on the frontline defenses. Mindel is expecting at least a full Armeedivision of Soviet Troops, although I think it's much less." "How are the frontline troops doing?" "Mindel got a status report from Hauptmann Salzwedel, but he is about as clueless as us at this point. But, he's gotten reports from his first and second companies."

Before reporting this, he calls together his men. "Alrighty then, boys, gather around for a briefing. According to First Company, the Soviet's main assault seems to be concentrated on breaking the right flank held by 1st Company, with a large armored formation pushing towards their position. If they break through there, we will have a massive force of Russian Armor bearing on this town, and if they overrun us here, the flank of or forces at Minsk is compromised. With that, the Second Company seems to be having problems of its own. According to their company commander, the 2nd Company's forward elements are being engaged by a mass of Soviet men. They have requested Panzer support immediately."

Leutnant Rothman is the first to speak up "Well what are our orders, sir?" "Now here is where things get difficult. Mindel has ordered the 1st Panzer Company to reinforce the 2nd Company before they break. Now, that's where Mindel believes the enemy's biggest point of attack is. However, I believe that that is a attack meant to cover for the main attack on the eastern flank, as that is where the majority of their armor is. So, I was in a briefing with Mindel, the commander of First Platoon Leutnant Stefan, and myself. As soon as we got our orders, I stormed out, because we are going to reinforce 1st Company with all of the vehicles that we got. Stefan will be left on his own to deal with the attack on Second Company. We will move as fast as we can to assist the 1st Company before they are overwhelmed. That is all, man your tanks, this is it."
Last edited by Hypron on Thu Mar 19, 2020 4:55 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Strathcanne
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Founded: Jan 28, 2020
Ex-Nation

Postby Strathcanne » Thu Mar 19, 2020 12:21 pm

1st Platoon, 1st Panzer Company

The huddle was broken up by the sound of explosions and gunfire in the distance. "That doesn't sound good." Andreas said, looking at his commanders. "Mount up!" he called out, running to his panzer three. All four crews dropped what they were doing, and scrambled to climb up and into their tanks. Andreas himself slid down through the commander cupola's hatch and put on his headset. "Driver, get us moving!" he called out over the internal channel.

Switching over to the command frequency, second company was calling for help. "New plan boys" he called out over his platoon's frequency. "We'll cut across the green and split up around the storehouse to engage targets north across the river. Toldi, you follow me and shift to my left. Theo and Grün split off to the right of the storehouse and engage hard targets." Simultaneously the three commanders under Andreas' command called out "Jawöhl" as their tanks rumbled to life and made their way towards the storehouse.

Switching back to the internal channel, he called out to his bow gunner. "Friedrich, you kill anything that isn't wearing a gray uniform, you hear me?"
"Don't have to ask me twice leutnant!" he called back, laughing. Although he worried about Friedrich sometimes, he knew he was a good kid.
"Loader, load armor piercing!" he called out, and watched the loader pull a shell off the ready rack, and slide it into the gun's breach before turning and nodding at Adreas.

Andreas' vision through the commander's cupola had never been great, but he knew better than to stick his head out of the hatch during combat. Looking to his right, he saw the other tank platoon racing towards the Eastern bridge to address the threat that had arisen there. When he was done in the North, he thought, he knew where to go next.

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The Hoosier Alliance
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Hoosier Alliance » Thu Mar 19, 2020 8:17 pm

Leutnant Hans Mehler, 3rd Platoon, 1st Company

Bullets and shells tore up the dirt around the trenches and foxholes dug to protect the eastern flank of the small Russian farming commune. Leutnant Mehler was taking cover with a number of his men, some of which exchanged sporadic fire with the attacking Soviets. Hans gripped his MP40 tightly as he peaked over the trench to gauge the enemy strength. Bullets forced his head back down, but not before he got a good glimpse at the terrible sight of the Russian force.

Mehler's company radio had taken a stray round at the start of it all, forcing Hans to find an alternate way of getting support.

A soldier rushing through the trenches was stopped by the Leutnant, who demanded of him, "Where is Hauptmann Gensch?"

"The Hauptmann is dead, Herr Leutnant. A tank shell got him."

"Damn! We need some support. Where's the company radio?"

The soldier pointed off to the distance, towards where the Hauptmann died. "Over there, Leutnant. Hauptmann Gensch died trying to-"

The young man was cut off as a bullet ripped through his skull, sending his head snapping back and making his body collapse like a ragdoll.

"Fuck!" Hans shouted.

He shook his head and gritted his teeth, looking towards the radio. It wasn't very far, but it was in the open. He knew the radio was vital, and that if it sat out too long, it could take a stray round. Considering radios were distributed at the company level, that was their only chance at getting support quickly.

Hans kept his body low as he made his way to the edge of the trench. If he was fast enough, he could make it. He knew he could.

He swallowed.

"Platoon!" he shouted, "Prepare to lay suppressive fire on the tree line!"

The riflemen and MG-34s awaited his command.

"Now!"

Wehrmacht rifles and machineguns opened up simultaneously as Leutnant Mehler began his sprint across the short open field. Loud cracks could be heard to his right, across the river.

His sniper team was doing its job. Perfect.

Hans reached the half a corpse that was the old radioman and grabbed on firmly to the radio pack. It did not slip off, forcing Hans to drag the entire upper half of the man with him. The effects of the suppressing fire were beginning to wear off. The bullets kicking up dirt around Mehler made that apparent. He was within a few steps of the other trench line when a Soviet BT-7 caught him in its sights.

The main turret fired.

Luckily for the Leutnant, their aim was off. However, the force of the blast was still enough to knock him off his feet. Even luckier than that, the blast pushed him into the trench. The ringing in his ears prevented him from hearing the words the young Soldat.

When the world stopped spinning and ringing, Hans could hear the man's, "Are you alright, Herr Leutnant?"

Groggily, Mehler responded, "I will be. Who is your Leutnant?"

"Leutnant Gunther."

Hans swallowed as his head pounded. It was still hard to hear or focus.

"Bring him to me. I'm in no condition to use this radio."
Last edited by The Hoosier Alliance on Fri Mar 20, 2020 6:39 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Vrijstaat Limburg
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Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Vrijstaat Limburg » Sun Mar 22, 2020 3:00 am

Image
Obergefreiter "Häs" Jansen (right), nicknamed "Hare" for his agility, jumps into A group's MG foxhole, desperately trying to keep his men in order.


OBERGEFREITER HANS JANSEN
GRUPPE "ANTON", 2. ZUG, 2. KOMPANIE, I. BATAILLON, INFANTERIE-DIVISION (MOT.) 71
APPROX. 1345 HOURS LOCAL, JUNE 26TH 1941
FOXHOLES IN THE WOODS NORTH OF OSTROSHITSKI GORODOK, MINSK REGION, BELARUSSIAN SSR


For centuries countless, philosophers, scientists and other intellectuals have argued over a complicated paradox. "What happens if an unstoppable force meets an immovable subject?" has echoed through the annals of history. The old greeks, Newton and even the world's modern scholars, with their innovative zeal and technologically stunning equipment still cannot find a clear answer. Fortunately for the international scientific community, 2nd platoon is bound to find an answer to that age-old paradoxical question.

"DECKUNG!"

A hail of bullets flew over Gruppe Anton's foxholes. Their riflemen, who had at first stunned the soviets with precise rifle fire, now only sparsely tried to raise their heads to check for soviet infantry. A duel had broken out between Anton group's machine gun and the mobile automatic riflemen of the airborne regiments, and both tried to simultaneously suppress one another and the surrounding infantry. Obergefreiter Hans Jansen, who was known to be one of the fittest men in the platoon, dashed around from foxhole to foxhole, encouraging the infantry to keep on fighting, to raise their rifles and support the machine gun nest in their task to disable, destroy or pin any soviet infantry. Much like the rest of the platoon, "Häs" had been totally caught off guard by the Russian attack. He had been shaving his beard, and did not have time to clean himself after their platoon sentries started firing on bolshevik troops. Jansen's face was covered halfway in shaving cream, and the Gefreiter had accidentally cut himself in the cheek due to the surprise of sudden rifle fire. Luckily for A group's machine gunner, Oberschütze Gustav Pöhl, the soviet airborne troops wore their iconic Red Army field drab red army uniforms, making them stick out like flies on a wedding cake. Indeed, whilst the combat was intensifying, nobody in A group expected the enemy to number more than 700 men, thinking that the number of enemy forces couldn't humanly be nearly 15 times their size.

"Get up! Get up! Return fire!" Jansen quickly shot the MG a glance, to see whether they still had enough ammunition. He would try to get more ammo to them, but right now his main priority was set on getting his troops to get their carbines firing. Once he felt that his group was contributing more firepower by using their rifles, he sprinted to one of the foxholes, but fell to the ground before he could reach it. He felt a shock of pain through his body, especially in his leg. Had he tripped over something? Had he been shot? His thoughts only fell on his troops, and as Häs tried to turn himself away from the horrendous noise around him, from the automatic machine gun fire that engulfed this normally calm and idyllic forest into hell on earth. He shut his eyes and placed his hands on his ears, and before he could think about the soviets, his rifle, his home or his group, before he could talk about anything at all, he started screaming. He screamt as hard he could, screaming for the violence to stop, for his mother, for God, but the louder he screamt, the more soviets were alerted to his position. He would not suffer for long.




LEUTNANT EDUARD EGON VON SCHARNSDORF
2. ZUG, 2. KOMPANIE, I. BATAILLON, INFANTERIE-DIVISION (MOT.) 71
APPROX. 1345 HOURS LOCAL, JUNE 26TH 1941
PLATOON HQ, WOODS NORTH OF OSTROSHITSKI GORODOK, MINSK REGION, BELARUSSIAN SSR


On the edges of the forest, Funker Schneider did his best to contact company HQ on the other side of the river.
“We need immediate reinforcements! We are holding this bridge with all our might, but we need more ammunition and men! The fighting is too fierce! Wiederhole: Fighting too fie-“
He could feel something grabbing his shoulder. Karl slung his head around belligerently, too caught up in the moment to be rational, too passionated to sit still. Before him squatted the young Leutnant von Scharnsdorf. The officer and his men had gathered around in the HQ, and were watching the fighting going on. Elements of Gruppe Berta should be moved out as soon as possible, in an effort to aid the groups on the front lines, who had been tasked to hold out against what no one knew to be a force the size of about two battalions. Von Scharnsdorf counted on Cäsar to simply hold off whatever force had come through. He had seriously underestimated the enemy’s fighting capability, and expected them to be a band of soviet ruffians attempting to escape the encirclement, a band that could easily be defeated by Gruppe “Cäsar”. The group had experienced troopers, such as Unterfelwebel Wehrs, who had been dubbed “Frontschwein” due to his extensive combat history and practical field know-how, “Bombenfritz” Lehmann, a former athlete-turned-conscript who could throw stick grenades so far that the Führer himself would award him an Olympic medal, or Heinrich Jäger, who was known to be a superb marksman, never missing a shot. No, Cäsar would hold its ground, Berta was needed elsewhere; One thing that the lieutenant had spotted was that Gruppe Anton, on the northwestern frontier, were not facing as great an enemy as the other positions. If The Leutnant could just muster Gruppe Berta, march on the western flank and charge the few soldiers that had sporadically attacked like the ruffians they were, he could consolidate that position and corner the remaining outlaws, capturing or killing them whilst they were being pinned down by the superior MG34s.

“Karl” the Leutnant then spoke, clearly and relaxed: “I need you to call a coordinated heavy mortar barrage on the enemy troops on the western flank. We’re going to bomb those Russian dogs to shit, get in there with the bayonet, and entrap whatever squad of rag-tag deserters is trying to pierce our line. Tell 'em: Big shells. Fuck these Russian swines, fuck this forest, I want to make a show of force, get these godforsaken communists on the run. You got that? Heavy mortar fire, enemy troops on the western flank. Keep on asking for reinforcements.”
Schneider noticed the leutnant's crude wording and frequent use of insults, showing him a side of the aristocratic leutnant Von Scharnsdorf that he had not shown any of his troops before. He quickly nodded his head, and got back on the radio. He bent himself over a map of the forest, and Eduard, who had gotten familiar with his surroundings, highlighted to him what areas he wanted bombed. He knew that mortar fire would be especially effective in thick woodlands like this, where the shells would detonate, which would cause nearby trees to be hit and thus splinter, creating more shrapnel quickly and horrifyingly efficiently.

“Calling: Heavy infantry mortar barrage, HE, instantaneous. Grid 375-Oskar-91-Zepellin. Fire for effect.” He then turned his head again, hoping to tell the officer that he had radioed in the message, but Von Scharnsdorf had already left, leaving him to be all alone in the command pit.

“Dreiß”, the leutnant barked. He and his command squad were moving up to the support trench to rally troops from Gruppe Berta, and his platoon second-in-command, Feldwebel Maximilian Dreiß, was walking behind him. “Move up to the front. Check up with Cäsar and Dora. See how they’re holding out, organize the men, all that.” He tried his best to remain collected and calm, but the clock was ticking. Soon, mortars would be blazing on soviet positions, and his troops would take charge, attempting to route the enemy whose size the officer still greatly underestimated. Dreiß, an experienced Feldwebel having risen up the ranks, didn’t say a thing, but merely turned around and jogged up north, to see how his men were doing. Von Scharnsdorf then looked at his troops, who were now fully prepared to move out. Most of the squad consisted of young men, boys not unlike the leutnant himself. He had put them in reserve, relying on the veterancy of the other Gruppen, but now he had no choice: They had to move out. Berta had the youngest, least experienced people within its squad, but at least they had had some time to prepare themselves. Troops were standing around, eagerly, with bayonets on their rifles and grenades on their belts. The Leutnant hoped that he could charge the Bolshevik lines with these energetic youngsters, but the longer he looked at these recruits thoroughly, the more uncertain he became.
“Sons of Germany, come with me and kill these Russenschweine!” He didn’t want to deliver some great speech, he didn’t want to be inspirational, he really just wanted to get out there and properly prime his attack with the mortar bombardment. At once, the troop started moving through the trench through the support trench and moved onto the positions of Gruppe Anton. As the men marched, the lieutenant spotted that a small troop of tanks was approaching them: Three T-26 were moving up to their positions in the distance, but luckily for the leutnant they had not yet opened fire on their trenches. He knew for a fact that he had to attack, he had to give the soviets all that he could give them, for this bridge they were holding was of such strategic importance that he would easily give his life for it. The tanks on the other side of this godforsaken Russian river needed this bridge to continue the war, to push on and remove the bolshevik from these lands, he knew that for a fact. He had to gamble his life, and the lives of his troops for a greater strategic victory, for glory to the Reich. His men quickly arrived to aid the Gruppe Anton, whose troops had started to lose faith, but who were spontaneously reinvigorated by their gallant reinforcements. The fact that they were the men from their platoon, lead by their very own platoon leader, greatly boosted their fighting spirit. By this point, each man was either firing from a foxhole or advancing with the platoon leader, and Leutnant Von Scharnsdorf had split his section up into teams of about four men, who would implement fire and manouvre tactics, where they would assault the enemy positions under cover of MG34 fire, lob grenades at enemy troop concentrations, and get in with the bayonet. The more he got into contact with the enemy troops, the more he noticed what a mistake he had made, how he had underestimated the enemy size. Regardless, he still pushed the offensive, firing his machine pistol at the enemy whilst trying not to attract too much attention to himself. he had to live through the attack if he wanted to route the enemies, if he fell now, the morale would break, the attack would cease and all hope would be lost. It was not Von Scharnsdorf’s goal to kill as many Russians, but to rather force the attack, to shock the troops by sheer action and viciousness, to cause a route by aggressive pushing and mortar fire. Then, once this greater force would flee, he hoped, the other forces attacking the platoon would cease and withdraw to regroup, regain strength and maintain organization. If the enemy troop did not break, if they stood their ground, all hope would be lost, and it would be most difficult to hold for long enough.




SCHÜTZE JOSEF KRASNOPOLSKY
2. ZUG, 2. KOMPANIE, I. BATAILLON, INFANTERIE-DIVISION (MOT.) 71
APPROX. 1349 HOURS LOCAL, JUNE 26TH 1941
FOXHOLES NORTH OF OSTROSHITSKI GORODOK, MINSK REGION, BELARUSSIAN SSR


Tick, tock, bang. That was the name of the game. ‘Laden, zielen, feuern’, ‘laden, zielen, feuern’. ‘ładowanie, celować, strzelać’. Josef gently pushed a single 7.92x94mm cartridge into his Büchse’s rifle breech, took a deep breath and immediately rose from his foxhole. Within a split second, he identified a T-26, sloppily driving through the open, unconcealed plains that bordered the forest. The tanks had moved up through the forest roads, and though it was incredibly difficult for the AT infantrymen to get clear shots at the tank, they were now close enough for AT troops to fire for effect. A loud crack could be heard amongst screeches of small-caliber gunfire, and before Josef could do anything else, before he could take a breath, see what had happened to the T26 he just fired at, he instinctively pulled himself into the foxhole again. ładowanie, celować, strzelać. That was the name of the game. The anti-tank rifle in and of itself brought more than enough attention to it, which is why the “honour” of serving as an anti-tank rifleman was often seen as a death sentence. His comrade Gregor Hirsch, a 30-something-year-old social democrat conscript who had seen combat in Belgium, now lied in his foxhole, dead. He had set up his anti-tank rifle in a stationary, entrenched position. Such was the efficiency of the German: The German read his combat manuals, the German used the weapon’s bipod as he was meant to, the German loaded, fired and aimed from the very same position, and the German died. In a position as bleak and dangerous as this one, necessity begets ingenuity. There were two types of anti-tank infantrymen: Those that adapted to changing field environments and those that were dead.

Krasnopolsky had not set up his anti-tank rifle at all. He had been holding it for days, laying it down only when he knew the ground to be clean. Dust and rubbish often made its way into the firearm’s delicate loading mechanism, and the only thing worse than sitting on the eastern front with a Panzerbüchse 38 was sitting on the eastern front with a jammed Panzerbüchse 38. Indeed, this anti-tank rifle predated the more modern, easier to use ‘Büchse 39. The weapon was nearly identical but the loading mechanism was quicker, safer, and less likely to jam. Unfortunately for Josef, all the care that he gave his own rifle would be tested in these encounters, as these foxholes were dirty and muddy as well, and only a slight bit of bad luck could doom the young Pole.

He let out a deep sigh as he filled up another cartridge into his rifle. His eyes meandered over to a worm at his feet, trying to find its way through the young man’s foxhole. Krasnopolsky placed his cold left hand around his neck, whilst keeping a steady hold on the grip of his Pz.B. He felt his golden necklace bungle before his chest, and held the cross pendant between his fingers. Around him, he could hear gunfire, explosions and shouting. He laughed to himself, knowing that, if he raised himself up again, he would likely be in one of the most dangerous places in the world, with a possibility of him being shot in the head near-instantly, but if he ducked in his foxhole, if he kept his head down, there was no place in the world that was safer than this one. Slowly, he brought the cross up to his mouth and kissed it, before letting go and bracing his rifle once more. He looked up at the sky above him, and saw as the warm rays of sun pierced through the thick leaves. He could hear the engines drawing closer, and mentally prepared himself for what was to come. Josef turned himself towards the general vicinity of the noise that spawned from those approaching T26, rose from his foxhole, took aim and-




OBERSCHÜTZE HEINRICH JÄGER
GRUPPE CÄSAR, 2. ZUG, 2. KOMPANIE, I. BATAILLON, INFANTERIE-DIVISION (MOT.) 71
APPROX. 1351 HOURS LOCAL, JUNE 26TH 1941
WOODS NORTH OF OSTROSHITSKI GORODOK, MINSK REGION, BELARUSSIAN SSR


Jäger could feel his heart beating in his chest, in his neck, in the hands that tightly gripped his carbine. His head lied buried in the mud, his body pressed as closely to the ground as humanly possible. The sound of fighting, of screams and of explosions, rifles cracking and machine guns buzzing continued. He could hear German screams and Russian chatter, for he was one of the unfortunates, one of the ones sent to act as sentries, to watch out for a Russian assault. The pathological irony of Jäger’s predicament lied in the fact that he, one of the greatest marksmen in his platoon, had not fired a single shot throughout the entire soviet advance. Whilst the other sentries must have already been killed by the onslaught of Bolshevik troops, Heinrich could only lie in his ditch, hoping that he wouldn’t be seen, that some low-life Russian wouldn't observe his suppressed breath or shiny jackboot. All that death and suffering unfolded far away from him, with Russians and Germans dying, Obergefreiter Jansen’s brave attempt to keep his men in order, Leutnant von Scharnsdorf’s mortar barrage and assault on the western flank, Krasnopolsky’s resistance against T26 tanks, they were all distant and unknown to the isolated rifleman. To Heinrich, they were all so far away. As far away as home, as Thuringhia, as any other place on this earth. Now, the only place that truly existed was this ditch, for all the men around it were soviets, who would kill him at a whim; the only place that existed was this ditch, for all around it was death. Russian shouts grew more prevalent, but the fighting didn’t die down. If only Heinrich could raise his rifle, get his steel helmet out of the mud. If only he could participate in the fighting and relieve the other troops in his group. If only he could do anything but sit here, hiding, waiting for a Russian to find and kill him.




IN SHORT:

- Leutnant Eduard Egon von Scharnsdorf called in a heavy mortar barrage for 30 influence points. He’s hoping to overwhelm the leftover remnants of the 2nd Battalion, 214th brigade, in an effort to route the airborne troops and shatter morale for other attacking forces. Von Scharnsdorf has the trait “Offensive doctrine”, which should increase the effect of this last-ditch attack.

- Particularly the platoon’s northern and northeastern flank are taking considerable losses due to the assaults of airborne formations.

- In contrast to other men in his company, Von Scharnsdorf wants to hold the bridge no matter the human costs, seeing that this piece of infrastructure is vital to the German advance.
Last edited by Vrijstaat Limburg on Sun Mar 22, 2020 5:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Nouveau Quebecois
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Postby Nouveau Quebecois » Sun Mar 22, 2020 6:15 pm

1st Campaign - Operation Barbarossa

Leutnant 'Lechle de la Mazière'
Image - Image

III. Platoon < II. Company < I. Battalion | 29th Motorized Infantry 'Falke-Division'
C1. Battle of Białystok–Minsk | Ostroshitski Gorodok, Occupied Soviet Union
June 26, 1941 / (26/06/41) - Afternoon

While the rest of his 'peloton' slaved away outside, de la Mazière and his command squadron preoccupied themselves with cards and stolen wine in a hastly-made platoon headquarters; a glorified dugout furnished with stacks of wood for a makeshift table, and tree stumps for sofas. Against his prediction, de la Mazière had no problems integrating into his squad. While squadrons 'D' and 'E', passionately named 'Vier' and 'Fünf' respectively, were rotated with battle-hardened veterans who loathed the frontlines, he had the luxury of being assigned the front alongside young and beautiful reserves who immediately replaced the weak-willed regulars. While not the most strategically sound decision, for Mazière and his squadron, the front-lines were the place to be; where the action was, and where stories of heroism and myths about legends were made.

"Oh allez, SS-rejette. Tu as peur de perdre!"

"Vous ne me laissez pas réfléchir."

Lechle had affectionately assigned the rest of his platoon to assist the Company in the lines of strategic trenches to be dug. The reasoning behind such, apparent insubordination. Only half a dozen or so of the platoon really took affection to having the completely green son of the previous commandant take reigns instead of a homegrown natural, and said few had the envious job of keeping his 1st Squad company in the shade. After the casualties the platoon took in it's previous encounters, they were hoping for actual reinforcements, not misguided children. One positive to come from a handicapped squadron is the new surplus of equipment. Looted stick-grenades meant officers like Lechle and his XO. could be equipped to effectively fight on the front alongside their troops, which while most reasonable commanders would shy away from, Lechle simply couldn't wait to start ticking kill-marks in his notepad, as engraving one's firearm was against protocol.

"Voila. Flush royale."

"Ce jeu est nul."

As his 2nd IC laid down a game-winning hand, and as the designated medic took a swig from a poor local's decade-long stash, distant cracks could be heard over the low chatter of the platoon HQ when the 1st Company began to exchange fire in the distant East. Lechle ignored the unmistakable gunfire as a regular misfire, but from the position of his own company, more cracks could be heard at increasingly elevated levels, then explosions. Interrupting his squadron's happy hour, the designed runner slide into the their trench.

"Le Russe?"

"Le Russe."

Lechle's band of greens didn't move at first, as he took another swig of the harsh wine to the accompanying sounds of gunfire turned explosions. The Lieutenant blankly starred at his men for a moment, before jerking his arm upward, index extended.

"Allez! Allez! Los, Los, Los!"

On command, the squadron scrambled for their weapons and gears. Cards flew off the table and the empty bottle of wine smashed across the hard dirt floorboard as Lechle reached across for his steel helmet, leaving his officer's cap behind, and buttoning his coat as he ran. He joined his platoon which was linked up with the 1st, and already peering over the trenches to suppress what appeared to be an amalgamation of Russian forces across the river.


Image



Upon entering the trenches, the young Lieutenant was immediately accosted by the platoon's radiomen, with barely legible updates of the situation. 2nd Platoon stranded at bridgehead; Russian Armour across the river; 17th Panzer Detachments en route. 2nd Platoon was under the jurisdiction of the infamous Lieutenant von Scharnsdorf, well-known for his brutality and strict attitudes in the face of indiscipline. As an officer himself, de la Mazière didn't have the honour of being accosted by the grizzled veteran, not that he wouldn't welcome it. Lieutenant von Scharnsdorf had a lot left to teach, and should he and his men be extinguished on the opposite end of the bridge, and the legacy of a growing name in the ranks be lost just like that, that was something Mazière could not abide. He gripped his runner and radiomen tight.

"Alertez le peloton; combinez les grenades- ah, als geballte Ladungen. Yeah? Wir sind jetzt Panzerzerstörtruppe. Ok?"

"Jawohl~"

"Funker! Feindliche Gegenangriffe in die Kompanie flanken, deren Bereinigung die Fliegerkräfte eine bedeutende Rolle spielten. Verstehen?!"

"Ja, Herr."

"Un autre, Auf Zugtrupp zwei; Gegenangriff mit dem Ziel die Sud."

The Radioman released himself and picked up the telephone to make the necessary call under distress, as Mazière rotated to the left side of the Bridge to accost the Lieutenant of the 1st Platoon, also a timely veteran.

"Leutnant Stracke! Warum sind wir untätig? Wir müssen angreifen! Nach den Flugzeugen!"

Screaming at the Lieutenant from his position, Mazière wasn't easily identifiable. He wore a steel helmet akin to that of the common soldiers. Nevertheless, he hoped the message was clear; as soon as the Junker's made their run, his men were going over-the-top, across the bridge, and 1st Platoon better follow, and if the 17th wasn't here by then to provide support, then his Company be damned. Surviving armour would need to be dealt with hastily. The bridge ricocheted bullets and splinters in all directions. There was little cover apart from tank traps and wooden ports, but it was short, no more then 60 meters, maybe less. Ignoring any sense of fear or reason, Mazière used spare shoelace to tie his two stick-grenades together, placed it in his belt, and shakily removed a silver whistle from his breast pocket.



  • 3rd Platoon and 1st Platoon are in combined arms before the bridge.
  • 3rd Platoon requests for Close-Air-Support (Tank Busters) on the positions of the Russian 101st Brigade, 26th Division, for 15 Support Points.
  • 3rd Platoon radios 2nd Platoon to attempt a breakout south after Close-Air-Support engages enemy forces.
  • After the Junkers make their run, 3rd Platoon wants 1st Platoon to charge across bridge together, in order to relieve 2nd Platoon.
Last edited by Nouveau Quebecois on Sun Mar 22, 2020 9:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The Frozen Forest
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Postby The Frozen Forest » Sun Mar 22, 2020 8:10 pm

Image
1st Platoon, 2nd Company
Leutnant Fritz Stracke


The Unteroffizers of 2nd Companies 1st Platoon stood assembled over a small wooden table. On the table lay a map with barely distinguishable names on it-a crude map of the town that they found themselves in. They'd been assembled at haste by Leutnant Stracke following reports of gunfire and fighting from on the other side of the bridge. In their absence Squads one to four were led by each's respective Gerfreiter. Present were Unteroffizers Hofmann, Moeller, Lehmann and Schuster. All of which were veterans that he'd fought with before and whose judgement he trusted as sound. Leutnant Stracke waited as the men settled and spoke as the chattering of gunfire in the distance seemed to slow for a moment.

"I've received reports that that Second Platoon is being assaulted by Soviet forces on the other side of the bridge. Normally we would move to assist but it appears that the situation has become more complicated as I've also received reports of Soviet armor." Leutnant Stracke let that fact hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I'm not ready to utilize HQ to deal with this problem. If i decide to help 2nd Platoon we will be using our grenades. As you already know this is going to be highly dangerous and we should expect casualties. What are your concerns?"

"None of us are fond of Leutnant Scharnsdorf but it's our duty to assist the Second Platoon. I feel that my men will agree." Unteroffizer Schuster looked around at the others as though seeking their support.

"We have orders! Not to mention we've dedicated time and resources to digging in here. Second Platoon should take care of itself. Unteroffizer Schuster, even if we do move to assist we don't have the equipment to deal with that ar-" Unteroffizer Lehmann was cut off by the sound of the radio operator. After a few moments he reported that third platoon had requested tank busting aircraft to deal with the Soviet Armor. Just as a suddenly as the Operator spat out the words did the sound of Leutnant Mazière's voice carried across open air at him.

Leutnant Stracke calmly turned back to the Unteroffizers. "Unteroffizer Lehmann i understand why you feel that way. It would seem that our decision has been made for us. We aren't going to leave Third Platoon to move alone. I order you all to prepare your men to move out immediately. Unteroffizer Hofmann and the rest of First Squad will take point as we cross the bridge, followed by my Command Squad, Third Squad, Fourth Squad and then Second Squad. We will organize into a skirmish line as soon as we cross the bridge and will be advancing on surviving armor. Don't waste time bundling grenades until after we've crossed the bridge. First Platoon will be taking the lead in the assault. Leutnant Mazière is brave but he is inexperienced. We aren't going to wait for the Tank Busters. Go."

The Unteroffizers saluted and he returned it, then began to order around the Command Squad. Minutes later First Squad began to move towards the unoccupied bridge and away from their fortified positions, leaving behind anything not combat essential. Leutnant Strack's Command Squad came in behind them. As he stepped onto the bridge he wondered how many lives he was about to sacrifice for Second Platoons sake. He silently cursed Leutnant Scharnsdorf for putting him in such a position.
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Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Mon Mar 23, 2020 12:24 pm

1st Company, 2nd Platoon
Lieutenant Frans-Jozef Müller


“Common pheasant” Frank said, looking through his binoculars at the edge of the forests. He was seated on a field chair, a booklet on Birds of Belarus arrayed on his lap. Karl took over the binoculars and peered into the shrubbery.

“Nah, it’s a hazel grouse” he said, flicking a few pages of the booklet. “A pheasant is far more colourful than that.”

“Only the males. It’s a female pheasant, trust me” Frank answered, taking back the binoculars. “A hazel grouse is like a big Old World sparrow. This looks like a large dust bunny” he elaborated, pointing it out in the booklet, and handing the binoculars back over to Karl, who took another peak at the forest line.

“No… it can’t…” Karl said. Him and Frank were avid birdwatchers, and the rural towns and villages of Belarus were perfect for their hobby. They had already sketched a few examples in their notebooks.

“Friedrich!” Karl yelled. A man enjoying the sun in the grass, a piece of corn sticking from his teeth, came to his feet grumbling and walked towards the two friends.

“What?”

“Have a look at this! Is that a female pheasant or a grouse?”

Friedrich took the binoculars and peered at the treeline Karl pointed out to him. He focussed. Then, he put down the binoculars, taking a regular look at the trees, only to then look through the binoculars again.

“Friedrich?” Karl asked. “Pheasant or grouse?”

“BT-7…” he said.

“What?”

“TAKE COVER!”

The men jumped down into the trench just before their spot was tapped by machine gun fire. The field chair was absolutely ripped to shreds, its punctured skeleton blasted apart by the airflow of a passing 45mm shell.

“Return fire!” came the order. It mattered little to the soldiers who had given it; it was a good idea regardless. It took a few seconds for the men to find their weapons, but as soon as the machine gunners had found their triggers they started pumping lead in the direction of the Bolsheviks. The trick in such a firefight was to give the enemy the impression they had enough force arrayed against them that they did not have to advance, but also pose not so much of a threat that they needed to do anything overtly tactical. The riflemen took aimed shots at the machine gunners, while the machine gunners did their best to keep the enemy hidden behind the tanks and the trees. The fire was extremely intense, however, and the tanks looked rather vicious.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NOBODY BOTHERED WITH AN ANTI-TANK RIFLE?” the lieutenant screamed at his sergeant, both huddled at the bottom of their trench. The sergeant was clutching his MP40, the Russians too far for the 9mm rounds to make a difference. The lieutenant has lost his, instead holding on to his luger. The 9mm luger had the same problems as the MP40, however, while not enjoying the same rate of fire.

“Remind me to take a few from HQ before we get a move-on again” the lieutenant told the sergeant, who meekly nodded, his face having gone white.

“Alright, Königsberger, start taking 4th and 5th squad. See if the river bed provides enough cover, and if it does, start moving around the Soviets. Don’t fire until you… FUCK”

A tank shell exploded just in front of them, raining down dirt and grass on their heads. Their ears started ringing.

“… until you have a perfect firing position”

Königsberger nodded and started crawling his way down the trench, collecting the squads as he needed to. He turned to his other side, where his radio operator was huddled to the ground in silent prayer.

“Hey” Müller said, trying to get his attention. There was no reaction. Not too surprising, since the noise of gunfire and exploding shells was absolutely deafening.

“HEY!” he tried again, but there was no response. Müller gave the man a violent shove, which finally grabbed his attention.

“Radio Mehler and Gunther. We need something heavy. Call in a carpet bombing run, get the fear of god into them. QUICK!”

Another tank shell passed, this time bursting in the river behind them, throwing up an enormous fountain of water.

“JESUS GOD” Müller yelled out, wiping some of the water off his face.

“EVERY MAN WHO BRINGS ME A NAGANT GETS A MEASURE OF RUM TONIGHT” he yelled out, peering over the edge of his trench. The Russians were not attempting an advance, but their tanks, unopposed by any anti-tank weaponry, were happy to take ever-more accurate shots at the enemy trenches, undeterred by the small arms fire emanating from the German line.

“I really want an anti-tank gun…” the lieutenant whispered, taking a few useless shots with his luger.
The name's James. James Usari. Well, my name is not actually James Usari, so don't bother actually looking it up, but it'll do for now.
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