Ein Volk, Ein Reich (IC)

[The Australian]

Dietrich went to the platoon armoury as the last trickles of men left, hastily checking their rifles and straightening their helmets. He, on the other hand, was rather casual about it. He pulled out his Sturmgewehr 44, checking it for any jams, and slung it around his shoulder. He grabbed the clips of ammunition that was permitted to him, and the stick grenades. Finally, after taking everything that was essential, he stuck the camouflaged Stalhelm on, and walked out of the armoury. As he passed by the men who were awake, he found himself wondering if he'd ever see these men again.

As he pushed the doors, he purged those thoughts. He could see that the men had already piled onto the Opel Blitz, and four others were waiting for them to proceed. As he jogged down the steps, his water bottle and gas mask rattling, a man having the same rank as Dietrich, ran up to him.

"Oberleutnant." The man said, his accent rather thick. Both men clicked their heels and saluted, "The other platoons are already setting up defences. If this ends up being a trap, they might be our last line."

Dietrich wanted to scoff, and tell him that he was pointing out the fucking obvious, "Indeed, best hope they are able, kamerad."

The man shot him a look that seemed to be a mix of anger, and judging. He clicked his heels again and ran to the second truck. Dietrich walked nonchalantly over to the passenger seat in the driver's cabin. He laid his Stalhlem on the bulkhead, and opened the door just enough to lean out, and made a gesture indicating forward motion, "Los!" He shouted to the driver as he slammed the door, "I want to be back by lunch-time."

[Byrd Man]

Hugo watched the trucks take off from the steps of the old bank. He the half smoked cigarette from his lips and turned to the rest of the NPCs he had with him.

"Alright, let's get to it."

Hugo walked through the village and supervised as the four remaining squads set up defenses around the town. He caught the eye of the police captain, a fat man with a ridiculous handlebar mustache. The captain waved cheerfully at Hugo and began to walk towards him. Hugo adjusted the machine gun slung around his shoulder and braced himself.

"Hello, Herr Hauptfeldwebel," the captain said in fluent German.

"Good morning, Captain Lefevre."

The captain gave Hugo a too wide smile and shook his hands with too much vigor. Hugo couldn't stand these Vichy ass-kissers. The way they sucked up to him made him sick. While he didn't care for the anarchist and French resistance, at least they had goddamn backbone. To resist was the natural order, and he would do the same if Germany was in a similar position. These men that had been installed were like dogs dressed as humans.

"So, what do you need from us?"

"Support," replied Hugo. He took the stump of a cigarette from his mouth and tossed it to the ground. "Just use your men in auxiliary to our forces. You are not to open fire unless you are ordered to."

"Yes, Herr Hauptfeldwebel," the captain said as he dashed off to relay the orders.

Distancing himself from the Vichy man, Hugo stood in the center of the village and looked around. The four roads that led into the town were covered with checkpoints with six soldiers each covering a checkpoint. The rest of the men were in strategic spots on the roads as they diverged to the middle of the town where Hugo and his squad were set up in a crescent moon shape with their guns ready.

Hugo lit up a fresh cigarette and began to play the waiting game with what -- if anything -- was out there.

[Gunther]

The trucks deposited the First Squad, 1st Platoon, No. 5 company, II Battalion, 46th Infantry Regiment, 30th Infantry Division (Motorized) at the edge of a forest where it linked up with the 2nd Platoon of the company. That platoon was lead by Hauptfeldwebel Manfred Braun. They hadn't yet received a Lieutenant. Apparently, Obertleutnant Frotscher was taking over for this operation. Naturally, his own 1st squad would lead.

'fucking wonderful,' Unterfeldwebel Lang thought to himself. Günter Lang was given instructions to head along magnetic azimuth three zero for roughly five hundred meters. They would come to a clearing containing a small farm house.

"Klein, you're on point. Weber and Nagel, you cover his ass," Günter Lang set up the point team. "I'll be right behind you, directing your movement." The squad leader turned to his machine gun team, "Vredekerke, keep that pig right behind me." Then he looked at the other two members of the Machinegun team. "Fuhrmann and Lowe, you cover his ass," pointing to Vredekerke. Sergeant Lang didn't need to tell Unteroffizier Klaus Thalberg, the assistant squad leader that he would take up the rear. That is the normal position for the Assistant Patrol Leader.

Lang got the go sign from the Lieutenant and the point team headed into the brush, maintaining a five-meter interval. Each solder had their weapon up and were ready to engage targets. Sergeant Lang held a lensatic compass in his left hand, which was tied to his web gear. He maintained the 30 degree heading. He also counted his left steps to keep track of how far they had traveled.

At approximately three hundred meters into the trees, he thought he saw something so he put up his right hand with palm facing outward. The rest of the squad imitated the hand and arm signal and stopped. Everyone took a knee with the rifles up to the shoulder. Günter could not see any more movement and continued the movement.

Within twenty seconds, the forest erupted in gunfire. Panzerobergrenadier Theodor Klein took a shot right to the forehead. He dropped face first into a patch of moss. The rest of the squad sought cover amongst the Giant Sequoia trees indigenous to this region of Aquitaine. The tree is found only here and in California. They offer excellent cover, but are somewhat sparse due to their root network.

"Fire!" Günter Lang yelled. The squad was initially caught in a paralysis of the moment. It is a common trait to allow fear to take hold of a person and stop them from taking action. Fortunately, Sergeant Lang had been in this position before and knew how to get them shooting. It was just the one word, but it worked. The 1st Squad began firing in the direction of where the shooting was going on.

"Anyone see anything?" Günter yelled.

"I see about ten or twelve flashes coming from a berm about a hundred and fifty meters to our front!" responded Corporal Thalberg. By this time, the Lieutenant was close.

Günter turned to the Lieutenant, "Contact, one O'clock, one hundred fifty meters, ten to twelve rifles, I've taken one casualty," Unterfeldwebel Lang yelled to his platoon leader. The textbook move would be to bring up at least one additional squad to go online with the 1st squad 1st platoon, while the lieutenant lead the remaining three squads through the woods in an attempt to outflank whoever was shooting at them.

[The Australian]

Unterfeldwebel Lang yelled up his situation report (Sitrep) to the platoon leader, Oberleutnant Frotscher. The Oberleutnant then turned to Hauptfeldwebel Braun, acting 2nd platoon leader and the 1st squad leader for 2nd platoon. He yelled at both men over the din of the rifle and machine-gun fire, "Take your first squad up on line with my first squad on their right. Help them lay down a base of fire in order to pin the anarchists down!" He then looked at the acting platoon sergeant, "Do you have a mortar?"

"Ja herr Leutnant!" the Hauptfeldwebel responded.

"Wundebar! Get it up here behind this support by fire position and have your squad drop rounds in on the enemy. When I blow my whistle the first time, it will signal the beginning of our assault. That is also the signal for the mortar to stop firing. We don't need any unnecessary fratricide. That will also be the signal for the base of fire element to stop firing." The Oberleutnant continued his instructions to the two NCOs. "Please let Unterfeldwebel Lang know, if you don't mind," he directed that comment to the 1st squad leader (2nd platoon). "The second whistle will be blown when we have cleared the enemy. Now move out!" He ordered 2nd platoon's first squad forward."

"Hauptfeldwebel. Let's get the rest of your platoon moving as far to the right as we can go. Past our base of fire and get the second, third and fourth squads on line. I'll brief the squad leaders and you get that mortar going!"

"Jawohl, herr Leutnant!"

Dietrich waited for the last man of the first squad to run past him and get into position. He grabbed the second squad leader by the arm and yelled in his ear, "Follow me!" The next three squads all followed the platoon leader off to the right. They ran at a crouched trot behind the line. When they got to a decent spot, far enough away from the base of fire, he told the second squad leader to keep going another hundred meters. When the third squad leader met him, he quickly briefed him what was happening and then ran back to the fourth squad leader. The entire platoon was formed up and ready to go.

The din of the machine gun and rifle fire was overwhelming. Loud noised punctuated the woods. chips of bark and leaves flew through the air. The occasional Fwump followed a few seconds later by a loud explosion told him the mortar was operational. Dietrich looked at his watch. He waited an additional 60 seconds then blew long, hard and sustained on his whistle. The three squads of second platoon, stood up and began charging forward. The mortar squad ceased fire and began to break down their weapon system. The two MG-42s in the base of fire element traversed to the left away from the attacking 2nd platoon and ceased fire. Both first squads ceased fire as the 2nd squad charged into the anarchists. A few were probably dead and more, undoubtedly badly wounded from the mortar rounds and hail of gunfire.

Then, all was silent. Dietrich and Braun pulled themselves up, motioning for their respective men to start advancing forward. Dietrich's mind raced as he heard footsteps from in front of them. He raised his StG-44, and shouted, "Halt!"

Five French partisans, wearing dirtied clothing, covered in mud and blood, and soaked with sweat, stumbled out, their hands held high. He motioned for his squad to detain them, and prided himself on a job well done.

It was relieving to feel so proud of his work. He hadn't felt this way since Russia, before Wolfgang had died.
~~~~~~Somewhere nearby~~~~~~

The bulk of the French anarchists, numbering at 53, continued their advance on the village. The twelve that had been left in the forest were nothing more than a diversion, meant to keep the expeditionary forces from the company tied up while the actual attack started.

These ones, instead of being mostly armed in bolt-action rifles like the one in the forest were, mainly had Sten guns and MP-40s, with some still holding rifles like the Berthier.

As the rain and the morning fog continued to be prevalent, the French opened fire on the village's eastern defensive post.

[Byrd Man]

Hugo was talking with Fritz, the UnterFeldwebel in charge of the group placed in the middle of the village, when the gunfire broke out. The group around him turned towards the east. The machine gunners were returning fire at some enemy that was unseen from Hugo's vantage point. "Go around the rest of the defense points," he told one of the men in the squad. "Tell them to stay where they are until otherwise told."

He rushed off to spread word while Hugo and Fritz's squad moved up to support the squad on the eastern side of the village. The nine men were huddled behind sandbags and brick barriers as the machine gun fire from the French ricocheted all around. Hugo crouched against a house and watched the stray bullets fly all around. He wasn't sure how many men were out there, but they couldn't shoot for shit. There was a break in the fire and Hugo rushed forward to the sandbags.

The army men around Hugo popped up from their defilade and opened fire on the Frenchmen's position. Hugo popped up as well, firing off a quick burst with his SMG. He heard a man to his right scream out and fall about the same time Hugo took out an anarchist with two rounds to the chest. One man down, he ducked back behind cover and looked over at the wounded man holding his shoulder.

"Medic," one of the other soldiers shouted.

"Mortars," Hugo yelled over the fire. "Someone get me some goddamn artillery on their location!"

[Orion86]

Maaz had kept his head down the whole time they were in the trucks and had been dozing off when they came to a halt in the forest. It was a sign of a seasoned soldier that they could fall asleep any where, and the best got as much sleep at as many possible moments, because you never knew when you were going to get some again. However rest never seemed to last long enough and before long he was stamping his feet to try and get some feeling back into his legs, it didn't pay to go into battle with numb legs. He was just regaining some sensation when the first of the gun shots went off.

*Crack*
*Crack*Crack*Crack
*Crack*Crack*Crack*Crack*Crack*

The Staccato sound rang violently around the previously silent forest. Maaz was just getting his balance when he was knocked over, he put his hands out in front of him but with his pack on it only went that he was covered in mud from his elbows to his chest. Not waiting to get filled with enemy round he half crawled, half ran towards the nearest piece of cover he could find. When he got his breathing under control he let his training take over, he had been in too many fire fights to let it get to him, the main secret was getting your adrenaline under control. It was all in the breathing, in and out, in and out, in through the nose and out through the mouth and then move. With a practiced eye he shot out from behind the tree and began to lay covering fire for the men advancing. The motion of his bolt action rifle was smooth and well practiced, he fired several shots in the general direction of the opposing fire and waited for the return volley, it never came. As soon as the fire fight had started it was over, this was a common fact of soldiering life that it went from complete boredom to shit your pants crazy in the drop of a hat.

When it was completely clear that nothing more was going to happen he went and regrouped with his squad, whipping the mud as he did so. He was probably going to get chewed out for losing his group but he didn't mind too much, he had been a soldier too long to care about the little things. As he moved back into his formation he noticed that the ambush had worked to some degree, he saw the medic rush amongst their lines to try and help the fallen,

"Damn French cowards!"

He cursed under his breath,

"Just don't know when they are beaten..."

[rpg101]

There were screams and gunshots, and Streithorst knew immediately that it was too soon for the patrol to have returned.

He walked out of the infirmary, lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He grabbed a passaging Panzergrenaider who was running towards the eastern side of the village, his webbing hurriedly thrown on. “What’s going on?”

“Anarchist sir! We’re being attacked!” The man yelled, and hurried along, giving Streithorst no further information.

The medic allowed himself the faintest of smirks. He turned on his heel and walked into the field hospital, his calm demanour suddenly broken as he barked orders. “Clear those tables! Bring out the bandages and morphine! We’re going to have wounded coming in here any minute and I want you lot ready!” He felt his heart beginning to quicken and blood began to rush throughout his body. He felt alive for the first time in months.

“You two!” He yelled, pointing at two orderlies who looked like they were about to soil themselves out of fear. “Run outside and fetch two buckets of water, we’ll need to be able to wash the injuries.” They turned and ran out of the tent, hurrying towards the local well.

“Where’s Bauer at?”

“Here sir!” An older medic appeared at his side, “What do you need?” The man was older, but had served less time than Streithorst and preferred to listen to his orders.

“Bauer, you’re the only man in here that seems capable of stopping anything more than a scratch.” Streithorst glared at the others in the field hospital, “I’ll need you out there. Some wounded may not be able to make it here; so you’ll have to be out there handling their injuries.”


“Yes sir, I’ll fetch some supplies and go.” Bauer turned and began to head to the storeroom.

“Bauer,” Streithorst said.

“Yes sir?”

“Don’t let any of the French operate on our me.”