Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
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As mentioned in the past, uncle George better come back to Greece in one piece at the end of the war. In the meantime any Greek government that agreed to frex making it a breakwater would be faced with a huge public outcry. Transferred out of the navy like it seems to be implied here? That's the same ship that when some idiot in the navy ministry ordered to scuttle it in April 1941, the crew mutinied and sailed her to Alexandria to fight on, the naval staff agreeing only after the ship was on its way repeatedly refusing to stop. All while following orders of course, as Lt Commander Damilatis who had taken over as was sailing her out to fight on put it in his signals "Returning to port is unsafe due to mines".
We don't want a mutiny in Portsmouth by overtly entusiastic sailors who want to fight and won't give up their ship do we?
I always wondered why the Germans bothered bombing them in the first place given they had been hulks with the main gun turrets removed to be used as such for naval fortifications and all the rest also removed and used in shore defences.
Interesting story.
The sailors that mutinied broke the armory and armed themselves with rifles. Then, a petty officer let Damilaris know that the crew would use even violence to protect the ship. The same petty officer, told the crew that anybody with a family could leave as the war was over. He was shouted down by the crew , with cries "save the Averoff".
Some officers were reluctant to join the mutiny. At the same time they wouldnt leave the ship. They actually conteplated going down with Uncle George than live with shame,
Here is the signal of Damilaris to the Navy HQ that Lascaris mentioned.
In the end, they departed the anchorage and passed through 2 different minefields in the middle of the night without a map of them! As the ship was a floating aa battery nobody had a map with the cleared channels of the minefields that protected the Saronic Gulf. The crew knew that and prefered to pass through the minefields blindly than abide to the scuttle order. I think Damilaris sent his signal before he passed the minefields, while the Navy HQ were begging them to return and not sacrifice so many men. Most of the crew believed that they would die in the attempt and were simply praying until they exited the Saronic Gulf. All of that , just to save Uncle George.
After the incident the ringleaders were punished and were kicked out of the navy, although in later years one received a medal.
Edit: The grandfather of a friend was a sailor aboard Averoff. He never talked to his grandson of the ww2 convoys of the ship or the glorious return to Greece. He would talk only about the mutiny and the night crossing of the minefields. That was the proudest night of his life.
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Nb: AVEROFF was severely damaged during the initial landings in Attica
Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
1. The Germans released all surrendered Greek prisoners right away. So no there is a large reserve of already trained soldiers. 2. The police is anything but non existent, both the cities police and the gendarmerie were left in place and continued to operate through the occupation and after the...
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In all likelihood she'll spend the rest of the war in reserve and go home when it's over and have a public subscription campaign pay for her permanent repairs
Of course for the sake of maintaining peace and decorum we should probably not mention how her namesake is alleged to have made his fortune.
Selling gold thread several times above the normal price, then selling cotton to Britain at the very time the mills were starved due to the ACW?
Then, by all means, DON'T.
WAY too much in the way of dragging current, much needed, political debate outside of Chat these days.
AFAIK, it is IMPOSSIBLE to discuss any major political leader who was born before around 1900 +/- who DOESN'T have something reprehensible on their CV. That being the case we can either simply STOP creating TL with start dates before 1945, maybe as late as 1980 (after all Ted Kennedy, to use one example, was the son of a bootlegger and, at least passive, supporter of the Reich), perhaps even later OR we can accept that people are assholes, most of whom will do whatever they can, legal or even semi-legal, to "increase their wealth"' always have been, always will be.
Georgios Averof was not a political leader, he was a businessman! You are probably mistaking him with Evangelos Averof .
I have to agree with @Lascaris, any Greek government disrespecting "Old Uncle George" would get a huge public outcry.
I have to agree with @Lascaris, any Greek government disrespecting "Old Uncle George" would get a huge public outcry.
Story 2302
Outside of Rome, November 9, 1943
"You're shitting me" the sergeant paused for a moment as he digested the briefing from the newly promoted captain. The company's master sergeant looked at one of his squad leaders and the 24 year old got the clue fast enough, "Sir?"
"Nope, no shit, straight dope from on high, we're dropping in three days two hours before dawn. The entire brigade is going. The Polish airborne brigade will be dropping just to the east of us. A British battalion will drop about three miles to the north. That is what the Colonel told us, and the Colonel was told that by an entire galaxy of stars.... so nope, not shitting you." The captain had an easy rapport with the men he had been training with since they ran up and down mountains in the hot Georgia sun. They had all seen the elephant and many of them had ridden it. A short moment of honesty to explain what was happening would make the times when an order had to be instantly obeyed a whole lot easier and more likely to be obeyed. He was depositing some trust into the bank for the minutes when absolute trust would be absolutely needed.
"We're dropping into landing zone Gold 2. The battalion objective is this bridge over one of the tributaries to the Po. 1st Battalion will be seizing that bridge a mile away while 3rd Battalion will be taking up defensive positions to the west along. Gliders will be landing another battalion of infantry plus artillery and our anti-tank guns at dawn. The company's objective is the far bank. We will have an engineering squad attached to help blow up bunkers and cut wires as quickly as possible. Once we seize the objective, we dig in and hold until 5th Army relieves us in no more than 36 hours...."
The company command group, officer and senior enlisted, spent the next hour talking through the mission and examining scenarios. If the bridge had been blown, there was a ford a few hundred yards upstream. If there was an infantry counter-attack, they would collapse and fire sack. If there was tanks, the bazookas would wait until they could see the serial numbers on the radio antennas before firing. Every squad leader knew what their captain was thinking. By nightfall, every private would know what they were expected to do and more importantly, what they needed to do when everything went to shit as it was wont to do when the enemy had a say.
"You're shitting me" the sergeant paused for a moment as he digested the briefing from the newly promoted captain. The company's master sergeant looked at one of his squad leaders and the 24 year old got the clue fast enough, "Sir?"
"Nope, no shit, straight dope from on high, we're dropping in three days two hours before dawn. The entire brigade is going. The Polish airborne brigade will be dropping just to the east of us. A British battalion will drop about three miles to the north. That is what the Colonel told us, and the Colonel was told that by an entire galaxy of stars.... so nope, not shitting you." The captain had an easy rapport with the men he had been training with since they ran up and down mountains in the hot Georgia sun. They had all seen the elephant and many of them had ridden it. A short moment of honesty to explain what was happening would make the times when an order had to be instantly obeyed a whole lot easier and more likely to be obeyed. He was depositing some trust into the bank for the minutes when absolute trust would be absolutely needed.
"We're dropping into landing zone Gold 2. The battalion objective is this bridge over one of the tributaries to the Po. 1st Battalion will be seizing that bridge a mile away while 3rd Battalion will be taking up defensive positions to the west along. Gliders will be landing another battalion of infantry plus artillery and our anti-tank guns at dawn. The company's objective is the far bank. We will have an engineering squad attached to help blow up bunkers and cut wires as quickly as possible. Once we seize the objective, we dig in and hold until 5th Army relieves us in no more than 36 hours...."
The company command group, officer and senior enlisted, spent the next hour talking through the mission and examining scenarios. If the bridge had been blown, there was a ford a few hundred yards upstream. If there was an infantry counter-attack, they would collapse and fire sack. If there was tanks, the bazookas would wait until they could see the serial numbers on the radio antennas before firing. Every squad leader knew what their captain was thinking. By nightfall, every private would know what they were expected to do and more importantly, what they needed to do when everything went to shit as it was wont to do when the enemy had a say.
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Story 2303
Ferrara, Italy November 10, 1943
The 8th Army had arrived at the front over the past week. The American 5th Army had consolidated to the west while the Commonwealth Army was along the Adriatic plains. The German outpost lines and mobile formations had skirmished aggressively with the veterans who had fought from Egypt to Tunisia and then from one end of Sicily to the other. Fresh divisions had been blooded for the first time. No great battles had been fought. That did not matter to the dozens of men who were dying each day in inconsequential clashes of patrols bumping into each other.
That would stop this morning. Every gun in the seven divisions along with the corps and army controlled regiments was sighted into their target. Every gunner looked at the pile of shells that had been dropped off by a continual row of Canadian Pattern Trucks. Night and day convoys had been going up and down the coast from Bari to the front. Half a dozen trains were running each day. The Italian liaison officers could only shake their head each time they saw another hundred trucks go by. That was why they had lost the war. So much steel, so much gasoline, so much horespower to support an army on a secondary front.
And then the dawn's horizon erupted as every gun started to fire. The 25 pounders spat shells several times a minute for only a few minutes as infantry battalions began to advance. The medium and heavy guns were more measured as they searched for headquarters, crossroads and supply dumps. Every now and then a thick black pillar of smoke emerged from the low level gray and red dust that hung close to the earth as a tank was destroyed or a few hundred precious gallons of German gasoline burned.
The 8th Army had arrived at the front over the past week. The American 5th Army had consolidated to the west while the Commonwealth Army was along the Adriatic plains. The German outpost lines and mobile formations had skirmished aggressively with the veterans who had fought from Egypt to Tunisia and then from one end of Sicily to the other. Fresh divisions had been blooded for the first time. No great battles had been fought. That did not matter to the dozens of men who were dying each day in inconsequential clashes of patrols bumping into each other.
That would stop this morning. Every gun in the seven divisions along with the corps and army controlled regiments was sighted into their target. Every gunner looked at the pile of shells that had been dropped off by a continual row of Canadian Pattern Trucks. Night and day convoys had been going up and down the coast from Bari to the front. Half a dozen trains were running each day. The Italian liaison officers could only shake their head each time they saw another hundred trucks go by. That was why they had lost the war. So much steel, so much gasoline, so much horespower to support an army on a secondary front.
And then the dawn's horizon erupted as every gun started to fire. The 25 pounders spat shells several times a minute for only a few minutes as infantry battalions began to advance. The medium and heavy guns were more measured as they searched for headquarters, crossroads and supply dumps. Every now and then a thick black pillar of smoke emerged from the low level gray and red dust that hung close to the earth as a tank was destroyed or a few hundred precious gallons of German gasoline burned.
Story 2204
North of Thermopolayae, Greece November 10, 1943
The German rifleman could not feel. His body had been shook and tossed for the past fifteen minutes. The goddamn Tommies had to have machine gun artillery. That was the only explanation for a bombardment whose intensity rivalled that of any he had survived outside of Moscow in 1941. The English tended to fire quicker and sharper bursts than the goddamn Russians who found a target and pounded it like it was a punch drunk boxer exposing their kidneys to cheap shots.
Nothing hit the ground for a minute. He raised his head and looked around. Off to his left was a solid wall of smoke. He listened and heard fornicating cats sing a ballad. The goddamn Highlanders were advancing. At least they were not advancing on his position yet. He checked his rifle. He checked his squad. Almost everyone was moving and the last man was at least shaking his head. The position had mainly been hit with field guns firing patterns and shells designed to keep heads down and bodies tight to the earth. This time at least, they were not hit with the super heavy guns that were first designed to destroy 15,000 ton cruisers much less 175 pound riflemen.
If the bombardment had not happened, he would have had a chance to survive the next minute. Instead, his ears were still ringing and smoke obscured the horizon. Two squadrons of fighter bombers entered the valley. Some fired rockets and strafed a platoon of infantry that had left cover to counter-attack the suspected Highlander advance. Most dropped their bombs under the direction of RAF pilots sitting in the passenger seat of Lysanders. Four Hurribombers pasted his position with heavy bombs.
Yet another hole in the German line was being opened up.
The German rifleman could not feel. His body had been shook and tossed for the past fifteen minutes. The goddamn Tommies had to have machine gun artillery. That was the only explanation for a bombardment whose intensity rivalled that of any he had survived outside of Moscow in 1941. The English tended to fire quicker and sharper bursts than the goddamn Russians who found a target and pounded it like it was a punch drunk boxer exposing their kidneys to cheap shots.
Nothing hit the ground for a minute. He raised his head and looked around. Off to his left was a solid wall of smoke. He listened and heard fornicating cats sing a ballad. The goddamn Highlanders were advancing. At least they were not advancing on his position yet. He checked his rifle. He checked his squad. Almost everyone was moving and the last man was at least shaking his head. The position had mainly been hit with field guns firing patterns and shells designed to keep heads down and bodies tight to the earth. This time at least, they were not hit with the super heavy guns that were first designed to destroy 15,000 ton cruisers much less 175 pound riflemen.
If the bombardment had not happened, he would have had a chance to survive the next minute. Instead, his ears were still ringing and smoke obscured the horizon. Two squadrons of fighter bombers entered the valley. Some fired rockets and strafed a platoon of infantry that had left cover to counter-attack the suspected Highlander advance. Most dropped their bombs under the direction of RAF pilots sitting in the passenger seat of Lysanders. Four Hurribombers pasted his position with heavy bombs.
Yet another hole in the German line was being opened up.
I sure hope not. But where exactly is Gold 2? North of Milan? I should go look at the maps. A tributary of the Po River. Hmmm.
If the allied line, 8th Army, is said to be around Ferrara, that means that the 5th Army, being further west, is somewhere near Parma?
North of Milan seems a bit ambitious.
Parma? It's going to be a two brigade plus size airborne assault. Would they make an effort like that for an objective that's only about 20 miles from their front line and can be reached by a conventional ground assault? It's ambitious alright to try to cut off Milan from German reinforcements. And dangerous too. But if it works?
NB: The history of parachute landings in this timeline is significantly different than OTL.
In this timeline, air assaults in Norway were a complete clusterfuck, Netherlands went pretty much as per OTL, Eban Emal was not quickly taken by storm. Crete never happened. The one big, divisional drop was at Smolensk where the paratroopers were able to accomplish their mission and close off a pocket while taking massive casualties. There won't be an 1st Allied Airborne Army as the resources needed for multiple corps of paratroopers were never committed. However, I would like to suggest AXEHEAD and LINNET as a possible inspiration.
Keynes' Cruisers
March 12, 1942 South of Diamond Head, Honolulu Five carriers turned into the wind. Enterprise and Lexington were in Task Force 16 while the Atlantic Fleet reinforcements, Yorktown, Constellation and Hornet, formed Task Force 17. Destroyers waited for the course of the carriers to steady as...
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