Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
- Thread starter fester
- Start date
- Status
Story 2589
Valencia, Spain September 9, 1944
The MV Africa Shell left the Spanish harbor riding high. As she was clearing the edge of the harbor defenses on the start of her trip to Haifa where she would pick up another cargo of Iraqi oil, a pair of cargo ships built to the same design in the same yard, the Doric Star and Brisbane Star were slowing to bring aboard pilots so that they could safely unload thousands of tons of mutton and wheat. Once they were unloaded and the officers had worked off their hangovers they would sail independently for Perth to pick up a similar cargo for the same destination in the first half of the next year.
The MV Africa Shell left the Spanish harbor riding high. As she was clearing the edge of the harbor defenses on the start of her trip to Haifa where she would pick up another cargo of Iraqi oil, a pair of cargo ships built to the same design in the same yard, the Doric Star and Brisbane Star were slowing to bring aboard pilots so that they could safely unload thousands of tons of mutton and wheat. Once they were unloaded and the officers had worked off their hangovers they would sail independently for Perth to pick up a similar cargo for the same destination in the first half of the next year.
Story 2590
Vilinius, Lithuania SSR September 10, 1944
The Red Flag flew over the city for the first time in three years. Even as the commissars and generals posed for a picture, rifle shots were still ringing out. Some were aimed in the general direction of a few companies of German infantry men who were encircled and determined to fight to the death. The city was a ruin. Most of a German division along with significant elements of the 110th Panzer Brigade had made the city an impromptu fortress which they had held against ten times their number for three weeks. Three days ago, the two dozen surviving tanks and the same number of assault guns had led a break out that succeeded with only forty percent losses of the remaining third of the defenders who were able to disengage. Behind them, every bridge laid in ruins. Since then, an ugly battle on an ugly front had become atrocious. Yesterday a total of seven prisoners were registered with battalion or regimental headquarters. More of the rifle shots were deliberate, aimed shots as collaborators and enemies of the revolution were being disposed of after, at most, pro-forma trials.
The Red Flag flew over the city for the first time in three years. Even as the commissars and generals posed for a picture, rifle shots were still ringing out. Some were aimed in the general direction of a few companies of German infantry men who were encircled and determined to fight to the death. The city was a ruin. Most of a German division along with significant elements of the 110th Panzer Brigade had made the city an impromptu fortress which they had held against ten times their number for three weeks. Three days ago, the two dozen surviving tanks and the same number of assault guns had led a break out that succeeded with only forty percent losses of the remaining third of the defenders who were able to disengage. Behind them, every bridge laid in ruins. Since then, an ugly battle on an ugly front had become atrocious. Yesterday a total of seven prisoners were registered with battalion or regimental headquarters. More of the rifle shots were deliberate, aimed shots as collaborators and enemies of the revolution were being disposed of after, at most, pro-forma trials.
Story 2591
Near Leningrad, SSR September 11, 1944
"Da, Smirnov was good. He has a good eye and his patience was notable, especially with the shots that he did not take. Any one else?" The one armed captain looked at the partially legged sergeant. She crinkled her eyes shut as she went through in her mind the week's exercises. Three dozen riflemen who had shown some skill at shooting during their basic training had been sent to the shooting camp for a week of instruction by snipers who both had success at the front and had been wounded too severely to return.
They had marched, and then shot. They had stalked, and then shot. They had crawled, and then shot. They had spent a night in mud with hoses spraying cold water on them each hour every hour and then shot. And then they shot some more. Each man shot more in a week than a pre-war infantry platoon shot in a year. All of them were, by the end of the week, excellent shots. They would be wonderful additions to rifle companies and battalions as marksmen.
She paused as her thoughts settled.
"Lebedev has something about him. He's worth training more."
"Do you think that he can be as good as you?"
"No. But he can be good enough."
"Very well, Lebedev, Smirnov, and Popov will go to the advanced training, everyone else goes back to their divisions. And now, Comrade Sergeant, after we complete our paperwork, would you care to join me for tea and a string performance?"
Tatianna smiled. The captain had been alongside her training new shooters for the Red Army. He had lost most of an arm from a mortar shell almost two years ago. He had lost his wife and daughters in the first few weeks of the invasion of their country. They were pleasant ghosts that hung around him on most days. He almost always had a soft smile on his face when he was not visible to the trainees and he often had a wry quip and a sharp wit when he was around only the veterans who were just as broken as he was. His gray eyes had acknowledged, quite readily and hungrily, that she was a woman, but he had never reduced her to just what was between her legs.
"That would be more than pleasant Comrade Captain."
And with that, the two instructors were motivated to complete three hundred pages of evaluations and orders.
"Da, Smirnov was good. He has a good eye and his patience was notable, especially with the shots that he did not take. Any one else?" The one armed captain looked at the partially legged sergeant. She crinkled her eyes shut as she went through in her mind the week's exercises. Three dozen riflemen who had shown some skill at shooting during their basic training had been sent to the shooting camp for a week of instruction by snipers who both had success at the front and had been wounded too severely to return.
They had marched, and then shot. They had stalked, and then shot. They had crawled, and then shot. They had spent a night in mud with hoses spraying cold water on them each hour every hour and then shot. And then they shot some more. Each man shot more in a week than a pre-war infantry platoon shot in a year. All of them were, by the end of the week, excellent shots. They would be wonderful additions to rifle companies and battalions as marksmen.
She paused as her thoughts settled.
"Lebedev has something about him. He's worth training more."
"Do you think that he can be as good as you?"
"No. But he can be good enough."
"Very well, Lebedev, Smirnov, and Popov will go to the advanced training, everyone else goes back to their divisions. And now, Comrade Sergeant, after we complete our paperwork, would you care to join me for tea and a string performance?"
Tatianna smiled. The captain had been alongside her training new shooters for the Red Army. He had lost most of an arm from a mortar shell almost two years ago. He had lost his wife and daughters in the first few weeks of the invasion of their country. They were pleasant ghosts that hung around him on most days. He almost always had a soft smile on his face when he was not visible to the trainees and he often had a wry quip and a sharp wit when he was around only the veterans who were just as broken as he was. His gray eyes had acknowledged, quite readily and hungrily, that she was a woman, but he had never reduced her to just what was between her legs.
"That would be more than pleasant Comrade Captain."
And with that, the two instructors were motivated to complete three hundred pages of evaluations and orders.
Last edited:
Story 2592
Fort Knox, Kentucky September 12, 1944
Dozens of tanks were in the compound. The most recent class of replacement tank crews had just returned from their last field exercise. The soon to be replacements were busy securing ammunition, performing the nightly mechanical checks and rituals that allowed for their machines to be operational each day, and once the bay was secured, they marched in rows of tank crews to debrief on the final exercise. Their errors would be pointed out. Their opportunities to generate Western Union telegrams for their mothers would be identified. And then they would be dismissed for a meal and a short night of sleep before out processing paperwork started in the morning where men would receive their orders for either Europe, California, Mariannas or the Philippines.
Dozens of tanks were in the compound. The most recent class of replacement tank crews had just returned from their last field exercise. The soon to be replacements were busy securing ammunition, performing the nightly mechanical checks and rituals that allowed for their machines to be operational each day, and once the bay was secured, they marched in rows of tank crews to debrief on the final exercise. Their errors would be pointed out. Their opportunities to generate Western Union telegrams for their mothers would be identified. And then they would be dismissed for a meal and a short night of sleep before out processing paperwork started in the morning where men would receive their orders for either Europe, California, Mariannas or the Philippines.
Story 2593
Pirot, Yugoslavia September 13, 1944
Nine armies, or least the representatives of nine armies met in this small city that was at the edge of artillery range from the pre-war Bulgarian border. The British, South African and Australian representatives of both the 8th and 10th Armies knew each other. They had fought together in the North African desert, and then had wrecked more than one bar in Alexandria together during the long period of inactivity. The Yugoslavian Partisans stood tall as they were hosts to the meetings in their almost completely liberated country. Bulgarian officers started the afternoon standing nervously. Their country had lost the war. The arrangements to minimize the cost of that poor decision were being made, and they had been instructed to be as helpful as possible while offering as little exposure to the vagaries of chance as possible. The Greek contingent knew that their war was changing. A few divisions might be heading north where they would be integrated into the British logistics net while most of the Greek Army could safely be confined to rear area duties. The Americans and Soviet officers were observers and had long conversations over increasingly interesting examples of local rakia. The closest American division was two countries away, while the Red Army was still digesting Romania.
The Germans were not invited, but they were the reason for the meeting. The objective was to finish expelling the Germans from Yugoslavia and then push into Austria via Hungary. The actual decisions of which divisions would go where was for individuals far more accomplished then anyone at these meetings. Instead, they discussed how to deconflict air support, and traffic control while on the ground. A dozen officers spent the afternoon establishing a framework on civilian movement and rations. More men were discussing how petrol could be shared across armies as needed. A hundred little tasks needed to keep a million men under arms from cocking things up needed to be resolved at the level of majors, colonels and brigadiers while the men with constellations worried about the dozens of significant tasks that involved an enemy that was actively trying to spoil their aims.
Nine armies, or least the representatives of nine armies met in this small city that was at the edge of artillery range from the pre-war Bulgarian border. The British, South African and Australian representatives of both the 8th and 10th Armies knew each other. They had fought together in the North African desert, and then had wrecked more than one bar in Alexandria together during the long period of inactivity. The Yugoslavian Partisans stood tall as they were hosts to the meetings in their almost completely liberated country. Bulgarian officers started the afternoon standing nervously. Their country had lost the war. The arrangements to minimize the cost of that poor decision were being made, and they had been instructed to be as helpful as possible while offering as little exposure to the vagaries of chance as possible. The Greek contingent knew that their war was changing. A few divisions might be heading north where they would be integrated into the British logistics net while most of the Greek Army could safely be confined to rear area duties. The Americans and Soviet officers were observers and had long conversations over increasingly interesting examples of local rakia. The closest American division was two countries away, while the Red Army was still digesting Romania.
The Germans were not invited, but they were the reason for the meeting. The objective was to finish expelling the Germans from Yugoslavia and then push into Austria via Hungary. The actual decisions of which divisions would go where was for individuals far more accomplished then anyone at these meetings. Instead, they discussed how to deconflict air support, and traffic control while on the ground. A dozen officers spent the afternoon establishing a framework on civilian movement and rations. More men were discussing how petrol could be shared across armies as needed. A hundred little tasks needed to keep a million men under arms from cocking things up needed to be resolved at the level of majors, colonels and brigadiers while the men with constellations worried about the dozens of significant tasks that involved an enemy that was actively trying to spoil their aims.
Are the Yugoslav partisans accepting Western troops in large numbers in the country? And what has happened to the Chetniks in Serbia proper... the ones not openly compromised by relations to the Nedic regime (the the ones that will almost certainly try to tag along with the first group). As late as the Soviet liberation of Belgrade Serbia was for the most part Chetnik dominated. The whole of Mihailovic's attentisme was based upon waiting for the western allies. Well TTL he has the western allied invasion he was hoping for presented to him on a platter in the form of the allied army advancing north and in the very area his forces are the strongest and the partisans the weakest. I'd expect he was clever enough to mount an uprising with the British coming north, at least ensuring his allied credentials. And if he's not fast enough Keserovic likely is. Which will be creating an political mess interesting political situation to deal with. And the percentages agreement had Yugoslavia as 50-50 split between British and Soviet influence in OTL...
significant elements of the British 8th Army had been operating in Yugoslavia in conjunction with the Partisans for a while now. The Partisans are more than happy to have western logistical support, plentiful air cover and plenty of technical support to maintain and operate the combat support and combat service support functions of an army that is quickly transitioning from a light infantry guerilla force to a traditional quasi-state sponsored heavy infantry force with some foreign supplied armor. The Wallies need to clear the north bank of the Danube and after that, they have little interest in having 100,000+ men sitting in Yugoslavia (10,000-20,000 sure, but not large combat formations). The Partisans are more than happy to have UK units in country, really want to keep the Greeks and Bulgarians out and are happy enough that the few formed Italian units are confined to the coast and mainly serving as labor and construction troops at this time. If they could get a few US divisions in country, they would not complain as they think that Uncle Sam happily would not give a damn about Yugoslavia post-war but Uncle Sam does not give a damn about the Balkans at this time either, so there may be a few hundred engineers and quartermasters in Yugoslavia wearing olive green.
And yeah, the reprisals, counterreprisals and atrocities going on between the partisans and Chetniks are intense, common and frequent. Smarter Chetnik commanders can read a map and know they are either being squeezed or will be squeezed real soon so they are looking for options and outs.
Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
About 2 months earlier (OTL Launched May 20, 1944) Ah. I may have confused May and Mar
www.alternatehistory.com
And before that, the Wally air bridge was in full swing:
Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
How is Walraven van Hall doing? My great grandfather should still be safe though.
www.alternatehistory.com
Story 2594
Western Pacific, September 14, 1944
Josh looked to his right. He then looked to his left. Eleven other dark blue Corsairs were in formation. They had levelled out at 20,000 feet and he called out on the radio to the rest of the flying portion of the squadron to drop the throttle to a more efficient cruise setting. They had taken off from the deck of the USS Bennington twenty minutes ago. The other carriers in the task group had also launched their ready fighters as a submarine had called in an air raid warning that they had observed forming up just off the coast of Kyushu. That raid was at least an hour out and not yet picked upon the picket destroyer radars.
He led the squadron to a holding point sixty miles up threat from the carriers. They were just northeast of the radar picket line and they waited for another twenty minutes until a destroyer finally detected a large cluster of bogeys. Within a minute the complicated ballet of directing some fighters for a head on attack and others for broad beam attacks began. The Marines would be approach the formation from above and from the 2 o'clock position if the controllers got everything right. This was the first time he had been in the fight in almost fifteen months, the milk run raid against Marcus Island did not count. He made sure his voice was calm and collected before he issued his orders to his squadron and hoped that the nuggets would remember their training and follow the trio of combat veterans into the furball.
Josh looked to his right. He then looked to his left. Eleven other dark blue Corsairs were in formation. They had levelled out at 20,000 feet and he called out on the radio to the rest of the flying portion of the squadron to drop the throttle to a more efficient cruise setting. They had taken off from the deck of the USS Bennington twenty minutes ago. The other carriers in the task group had also launched their ready fighters as a submarine had called in an air raid warning that they had observed forming up just off the coast of Kyushu. That raid was at least an hour out and not yet picked upon the picket destroyer radars.
He led the squadron to a holding point sixty miles up threat from the carriers. They were just northeast of the radar picket line and they waited for another twenty minutes until a destroyer finally detected a large cluster of bogeys. Within a minute the complicated ballet of directing some fighters for a head on attack and others for broad beam attacks began. The Marines would be approach the formation from above and from the 2 o'clock position if the controllers got everything right. This was the first time he had been in the fight in almost fifteen months, the milk run raid against Marcus Island did not count. He made sure his voice was calm and collected before he issued his orders to his squadron and hoped that the nuggets would remember their training and follow the trio of combat veterans into the furball.
Last edited:
Story 2595
Hsinching, China September 15,1944
The twin super-charged engine cargo plane slowly accelerated down the airfield. It took off with only a few hundred feet to spare. Two dozen patients were aboard including a very pregnant and tall file clerk. The pilots slowly gained altitude and began the long journey to Burma where some of the patients would be treated in local field hospitals, and others would be shuffled aboard C-47s and other simpler aircraft for journeys deeper into India for appropriate care. The C-46 soon disappeared from view.
Twenty minutes later, another C-46 appeared on the distant horizon as it entered the landing pattern carrying critical spare parts for radar and radios that the Chinese Army needed. The pilot was careful and brought his plane down in a text book landing. The ground crews soon were scrambling over the aircraft as the sole squadron of Commandos was always in demand to bring in critical supplies that could not wait for a truck to make the journey from Burma to Chungking or to move ammunition and gasoline to Chinese field armies several hundred miles to the east. Losing one or two aircraft would place a significant crimp in operations.
The twin super-charged engine cargo plane slowly accelerated down the airfield. It took off with only a few hundred feet to spare. Two dozen patients were aboard including a very pregnant and tall file clerk. The pilots slowly gained altitude and began the long journey to Burma where some of the patients would be treated in local field hospitals, and others would be shuffled aboard C-47s and other simpler aircraft for journeys deeper into India for appropriate care. The C-46 soon disappeared from view.
Twenty minutes later, another C-46 appeared on the distant horizon as it entered the landing pattern carrying critical spare parts for radar and radios that the Chinese Army needed. The pilot was careful and brought his plane down in a text book landing. The ground crews soon were scrambling over the aircraft as the sole squadron of Commandos was always in demand to bring in critical supplies that could not wait for a truck to make the journey from Burma to Chungking or to move ammunition and gasoline to Chinese field armies several hundred miles to the east. Losing one or two aircraft would place a significant crimp in operations.
Tatiana is the luckiest woman alive. She wouldn’t have survived the messy city clean-up. Though perhaps Stalin won’t cause or have the opportunity to cause a million casualties for a boast. But there are plenty of cities between Leningrad and Berlin for snipers to end in.
the other factor is perhaps she isn’t that lucky. Zhadanovishchina was historically used to defeat the possibility of a communist movement emerging in Leningrad and the party in Leningrad based on the shared war experience.
but for now she is lucky.
I'd argue Anna Marie is luckier. So much could have gone wrong with her little adventure in Paris and she ended up back on the farm safe and sound.
Yep, we are dealing with extreme outliers on the luck spectrum with both of them. If they got their just desserts, there would have been nothing to write about either of them.
- Status