Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III

Though it has details that clearly mark as being from the 80's, use of alloys, disk brakes, and the front fork in particular, this K75 that someone stripped down and reworked is very similar to the K3 from TTL that Zella has.

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One of my very early Saturday jobs in the mid 1980's was cleaning bikes at a BMW dealership. The K75 was one of my favourites back then. That and the R100RS tourer.
Part 140, Chapter 2410
Chapter Two Thousand Four Hundred Ten

13th September 1975

Montreal, Canada

As the Canadian Thanksgiving Holiday rolled around again Marie Alexandra learned a couple different things. The first was the real reason why her grandmother had been so nice to her since she had returned to Montreal. It seemed that there was a rumor that Queen Elizabeth was coming to Canada that summer for the Olympic Games and Marie’s grandmother was hoping that Marie could make certain introductions. As if she needed another reason to be on the first flight to Berlin-Brandenburg as soon as the University Term ended, and the Summer Holiday began. Marie also had no intention of letting her grandmother know her plans. She would let her figure that out on her own.

The other thing involved what Marie was seeing in the news, albeit the news that was only in the back pages of the papers in Montreal. The formerly classified files pertaining to her mother’s wartime activities had been released and the people who had never liked her in the first place had pounced on them. At issue was possibility that the Soviet War might have ended with Lavrentiy Beria performing a palace coup and possibly allowing a Romanov restoration to help with continuity. Instead, an operation performed by Abwehr with Marie’s mother playing a key role had ended with Beria’s arrest and the bid of Vladimir Kirillovich to become Czar of Russia effectively over. The trouble was that most of the high-ranking people who had been directly involved were dead or long retired.

Her mother had told Marie about this operation but had not expected the relevant files to be released during her lifetime and it was easy to see why. What was getting thrown around was that the Soviet war had dragged on for another year and thousands had died in pitched battles during that time. Louis Ferdinand, who had been the Emperor at that time had made a rare public statement on the matter that basically amounted to “Would you be so foolish enough to trust the likes of Beria and Vladimir? How long would that peace have lasted?”

Being on the far side of the Atlantic complicated matters for Marie. She wanted to help but had no idea how.

Munich, Bavaria

Ben wouldn’t have minded Zella’s drama if she didn’t make a habit of dragging Kiki into it. Earlier that week, Zella had scheduled an abortion and then had not been able to go through with it. She had ridden her motorcycle out of the city for several hours before finally calling Kiki when she had gotten home. Ben had seen the look of frustration on Kiki’s face as she had tried to figure out exactly what had happened but knew that if he said anything about it he would just be restarting an old, ongoing argument which had been going on for years.

It was almost a relief when he got summoned to Munich by Albrecht of Bavaria. Even if Ben was unsure as to what the Bavarian King wanted or what agenda he was pressing at this particular moment. Even without that consideration, entering the Winter Residence in Munich was always a daunting prospect. The vast compound was comprised of several massive buildings, courtyards, and gardens. Ben remembered Kiki’s stories about growing up in a similar environment in the old Hohenzollern Palace in Berlin. How she along with her siblings had explored disused portions of the palace that were relics of the world as it had been prior to the First World War. Anyone who knew about that shouldn’t have been surprised by the Hohenzollern family eventually moving to smaller dwellings that while certainly less expensive, allowed far more privacy. In Munich though, it was like stepping back into the Nineteenth Century. The ornate decorations that were everywhere one looked and an army of servants to see to everything being a part of that.

“Benjamin” King Albrecht said in greeting as Ben entered the billiards room, though these days it played host to whatever entertainment the King had planned. Sometimes that even included playing billiards. Presently, the scene would not have looked out of place in any Royal Court over the last thousand years with a large group of courtiers and the drink flowing freely. The only difference was the choice of entertainment today. At the moment there was a massive color television set with a Football game playing, Bayern Munich if Ben had to guess from the colors. “Get something to drink, we’ve business to discuss.”

Ben figured that it must not be anything too serious for Albrecht wanting to discuss it openly. In his experience, the Bavarian King preferred to plan his skullduggery behind closed doors, if anyone was an unwitting participant, he tended to spring it on them when it was already too late. Wanting to keep his wits about him, Ben took a soft drink. He was aware that those who surrounded Albrecht would judge him for that, but he had absolutely nothing to prove to them.

“I got your invitation Sir” Ben said as he joined Albrecht.

“You follow Football?” Albrecht asked, “Have a team?”

“Not really” Ben said honestly, “And Kiki would have my hide if I said any other team but Hertha.”

That was met by a round of laughter.

“It’s been easy to follow Bayern these days” Albrecht said, “Everyone loves a winning team.”

“I see” Ben replied, that explained far more than Albrecht intended.

“There is also this” Albrecht said as he handed Ben a folder. “I wanted to be the first to congratulate you.”

Opening it, Ben saw that there were several photographs of crumpled aluminum and other assorted debris. There were several typewritten pages summarizing what he was looking at and where it had been found. It seemed that this was a plane, a Grumman F-11B Super Tiger that he had shot down over Chilean controlled territory on 10th of February 1971. He had marked it down as a probable kill, but it had gone unconfirmed as the Chilian Air Force had not been cooperative. This changed that as it was his fifth in the Patagonian War, making him an Ace in two conflicts. Twenty-Four total air-to-air victories over his career.
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Unfortunately, rich teams tend to do better in any timeline.
That's true, but Bavaria does lack much of the boost it got post WW2, especially relative to other German states. You would have all the teams from cities East of the Oder-Neiße aa well. Silesia was a pretty rich area, so I would say there would be at least one fairly big team. Teams from OTL East Germany would be in a better position, and so would Berlin teams. The Rhineland is also probably better off in TTL since it was never flattened, so it's teams would be strengthened, and they are already pretty strong OTL. And would Bohemian teams participate?

All around there should be some big teams more, I think.

Sorry for my rant about football no one asked for.
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What Marie wants to do and what Marie is going to do next summer are two different things,
As i posted before, there are so many different scenarios that are very logical, one of them is that Sophie makes the German Womens Olympic Cycling Team, i don't know about if the current IOTL reputation of the Olympic Villages being hotspots of "Romantic Hookups" is the same as ITTL 1976, but I can see the following:

Kat: Great news, Sophie has made the Olympic Team and we are going to stay at your Grandparents' place, isn't that great?

Marie: I suppose so, what does that have to do with me?

Kat: Oh, I forgot to add to that I lined up a job for you to be an official translator for the German Olympic Team and you get to room with Sophie in the Olympic Village, AND you WILL keep an eye on her, RIGHT?

The German National Football League (don't know the German word for it) may need to be reformed and a new Commissioner could be named, maybe a fan favorite?
Here is a Eurofighter Typhoon painted in Jasta 18 Colors, while it is far too soon for the Typhoon it does give me some interesting ideas.

The German National Football League (don't know the German word for it) may need to be reformed and a new Commissioner could be named, maybe a fan favorite?
Does this mean Hans brings a dash of the old Walter 'Mad Dog' Horst spirit into professionalisation of the league? Goalkeeper fails the penalty shhotout? Fuckup Express. Striker can’t find the back of the net? Fuckup Express. Around Germany by rail in a giant circle until they get dumped in a Z-league club to start again.
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I'm looking forward to a 1976 Olympics that doesn't have the African nations boycotting the Games over South Africa's apartheid regime.

Seriously, the OTL stupidity of the New Zealand Rugby Football Union (NZRFU, now NZ Rugby) of the day insisting that the All Blacks tour South Africa and play the Springboks "because politics should be kept out of sports" STILL confounds me to this day.
Part 140, Chapter 2411
Chapter Two Thousand Four Hundred Eleven

19th October 1975

Charlottenburg, Berlin

It was Sunday afternoon and it felt like everyone was angry at her. She had her mother and Yuri furious at her at different turns. Yuri had been upset that she had not told him weeks ago. Her mother had been all about how she was clearly not prepared for well, anything. Kiki had asked her to only call if she had an emergency with the frustration evident in her voice. And Aurora… Aurora had exploded at her. Ranting about how she had suffered a series of miscarriages, but with Zella it was an accident? Aurora told her not to talk to her unless she was prepared to explain any of this in a way that made any sense.

Looking out the window of the apartment which her mother had made a point of telling her was totally impractical, Zella was amazed by just how completely she had wrecked her life in such a short time. She had tried to explain to Kiki what had happened, how she had made the appointment but as the hour approached she had fled out of the city. There was nothing else to say. Something that she had said had really ticked Kiki off this time, as if Kristina von Preussen had never made any mistakes and was the only one on Earth allowed to ever change her mind when it came to major life decisions.

There was pounding on the door and with great reluctance, Zella got off the couch wondering what fresh new Hell awaited. Looking through the peephole, she saw that it was her Uncle Peter.

“Are you here to lecture me about how I’ve messed up my life?” Zella asked as soon as she got the door open.

“I figured that that you are doing that on your own” Peter said, “So my help is hardly required.”

Zella gave him a glare in reply as he entered her apartment.

“Actually, your father asked me to check on you” Peter said as he looked at the painting that Zella had attempted to start that afternoon before she had gotten discouraged.

“I would ask why he didn’t come himself” Zella replied, “But he has not talked to me since Oma’s funeral.”

“You are going to have to cut Emil a bit of slack” Peter said, “He blames himself for what happened.”

“What kind of bullshit that?” Zella demanded.

“He saw that you were falling apart, making poor choices, and did nothing to stop it” Peter replied, “We all did.”

Zella sat down in her place on the couch as Peter looked out the window at the roof of the department store and the park beyond. It wasn’t raining, but it was a cold, cloudy afternoon. Zella wasn’t interested in talking, so she just sat there wrapping a blanket around herself as Peter spoke to her awkwardly. About the weather, her job, painting.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Peter eventually asked.

“Nothing I’ve been able to keep down” Zella replied, with more sarcasm than she intended. She knew that Peter meant well and was trying not to patronize her, but still…

“That is normal” Peter said, “You are what? Eleven weeks along? Have you had a scan yet?”

“No” Zella replied. It was actually more like twelve. She knew that because she remembered the exact date, but she felt that it was none of Peter’s business.

“Since you are now planning on keeping it, you need to start thinking about these things” Peter said falling easily into the role of Doctor, which was clearly what he was comfortable with.

“I don’t need a Doctor” Zella said, “I know perfectly well what is going on.”

“Yes” Peter replied, “I see.”

Zella didn’t think that he did. She wanted Peter to talk to her like he did when she came to visit him in Jena, when he had interesting house guests, and she was a part of the conversation that was going on around the table. Instead, he was here to check on her, whatever that meant, and that was making things uncomfortable.

“No matter” Peter said, “Do you want to get out of here for a spell as opposed to marinating in self-pity? You must be hungry.”

Zella looked at herself, she was hardly presentable. She was wearing a paint covered smock and a pair of blue jeans. The idea of going out like this did not appeal to her.

“I’m not interested going out” Zella said.

Peter gave her a look. “You cannot hide in this apartment for the next several months” He said.

“Watch me” Zella replied. That sounded childish to her own ears, she could only imagine what sounded like to Peter.

“Or we could order something” Peter said, “Eat it here.”

“It’s Sunday” Zella said, “No one is going to deliver here.”

“Who said anything about delivery? We can just pick it up ourselves. And do I need to remind you that the Korean and Vietnamese residents of Berlin do things a bit differently?” Peter Asked, “Do you have a phonebook? Everyone knows you have a phone.”

Zella was bit annoyed by that last comment.

“It’s holding up one end of the couch” Zella replied.

“Good” Peter said, “If you could just get it out from under there.”

As Zella looked at the phonebook wedged under the corner of the couch. She remembered months earlier that she had needed Yuri’s help to get it under there. There was simply no way that she would be able to do it herself.

“That isn’t happening” Zella said.

“Then I guess we are going out after all” Peter replied. He didn’t need to seem so happy about it.
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a Grumman F-11B Super Tiger that he had shot down over Chilian controlled territory on 10th of February 1971. He had marked it down as a probable kill, but it had gone unconfirmed as the Chilian Air Force had not been cooperative.
Trivial nit: it's Chilean.

Otherwise, you may be referring to THESE guys' air arm:
Part 140, Chapter 2412
Chapter Two Thousand Four Hundred Twelve

1st November 1975

Breslau, Silesia

Everywhere Hans looked, he saw the green and red colors of the FCLB, or just the Legion as it was called, along with the charging Wisent that was the team’s mascot. This was because of what was happening at the Silesian Arena that afternoon.

There were matchdays, typically those brought people from around Silesia for a fun afternoon or evening. Then there were Matchdays which were at an entirely different level. Today’s match fell into the latter category as Bayern Munich was playing Fußballclub Legion Breslau.

Hans had discovered this when he had first moved to Breslau. He had followed the rivalry between Hertha and Union Berlin his entire life. When Bayern came to Breslau it was entirely different though, that meant that the entire community went to war. Supposedly, this went back decades to the 30’s. Legend said that was when the Legion lost a match to Breslau and was faced with the prospect of relegation. Someone from the Bayern side had apparently started gloating. That had caused a brawl to erupt in the field as well as in the stands. Hans had been unable to pin down the full truth of that because like so much of sporting lore it was entirely subjective with the members of the respective teams telling very different versions of what had happened. That hardly mattered now because the rivalry had curdled into hate.

Hans was in the press booth trying to do his usual coverage of a major sporting event. Something which had grown difficult because the trouble had started before the game when there was a shoving match during warmups. It was broken up before blows were exchanged. Then the game began, and all Hell broke loose.

Hans had never seen so many yellow and red cards in one game, unfortunately that also made the Referees combatants. Eventually, the game ended in a one-to-one tie with scoring forgotten and Hans felt like he was doing commentary on a Boxing Match. In a rare spasm of good judgement, someone had made sure that the fans of each team were kept separate, limiting any brawling to outside the Arena, where the Police would have the upper hand and there would be far less risk of people getting trapped in the tunnels or gates. Then something got mentioned which gave Hans pause. This was the strongest side that Breslau had fielded in years. Today’s game was considered a preview of the Federal League Championship round next year.

Somewhere over the Austro-German Frontier

Ben rolled the Focke-Wulf FD121 “Steinadler” over before diving into narrow mountain valley before rolling upright and racing down it. He didn’t have the afterburner on, still he was moving at a good clip with his wingman struggling to keep up. This had been King Albrecht of Bavaria’s idea, to send Ben to JG12, Royal Bavarian Jagdstaffel 23 in particular as a consultant.

The report about the lessons learned during the Patagonian War had been published months ago, but there was a big difference between reading reems of dry material and having someone on hand who fought in that conflict. He was also flying the latest version of the Steinadler, which he had done the check rides on in Kaiserslautern. The experience was rather different than flying an Orkan or a Pfeil. The Steinadler was smaller and only having a single cockpit, the pilot had a larger workload. It felt more like you were wearing the airplane when flying it and it was certainly a bit snappier in flight than an Orkan. However, that came at the cost of a much smaller payload and less effective radar and counter measures. He had seen the French Airplane that the Steinadler had frequently been compared to, the Mirage F-1 and understood that it was a case of form following function. The two planes were very different once you past the external similarities. Ben also found that he missed having Wim in the back seat because that meant that he always had someone to talk to. Without that, his mind tended to wander during longer flights when there was little else to do.

Not that Ben had much time to think at the moment traveling through mountainous terrain at a thousand kilometers an hour. He was watching the ground avoidance radar closely and maintaining awareness of his flightpath as he had in the Orkan. At the same time keeping half an eye the dial that showed threats, mostly “enemy” radar from a SAM battery whose goal was to get radar lock on him and a targeting solution. Ben wasn’t making that easy for them as he was keeping a ridge between himself and the SAM battery. His mission was to get close enough the air defenses and drop the practice bombs on the target. There was just the question of getting the concrete filled version of the AS500 bombs there without the simulated version of getting pasted. Despite what Ben had told the Commander of Jasta 23, this was proving a lot more complicated than what he had encountered over Chile and Argentina. For starters, whoever was working the ground radar had obviously read the manual which was completely unlike their Chilean counterparts. The equipment was also in top shape which proved something that the report had emphasized, that degrading and suppressing enemy air defenses had to be a key component of any future conflict. That meant new tactics, technology, weapons, and even specialty aircraft.

Turning the corner around the ridge, Ben lined up to where he believed the SAM battery was and the targeting computer started showing numbers on the HUD from the radar altimeter. As in South America, he had set the computer for as low and as fast an approach as it could manage. The radar operator noticed the two Steinadlers far too late, even so Ben was aware that his threat indicator showed that the radar was in the process of getting a lock as the bombs released. He didn’t see it, but the drogue chutes on them deployed. That was not to stop them from falling, but to give the plane enough time to escape the blast radius.
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Hans had never seen so many yellow and red cards in one game, unfortunately that also made the Referees combatants. Eventually, the game ended in a one-to-one tie with scoring forgotten and Hans felt like he was doing commentary on a Boxing Match. In a rare spasm of good judgement, someone had made sure that the fans of each team were kept separate, limiting any brawling to outside the Arena, where the Police would have the upper hand and there would be far less risk of people getting trapped in the tunnels or gates. Then something got mentioned which gave Hans pause. This was the strongest side that Breslau had fielded in years. Today’s game was considered a preview of the final Federal League Championship in April.
Sounds uncannily like Argentine football.
I wonder who in the Bavarian Air Force is going to get their arse kicked when the Princess Royal realises her husband was allowed to fly a dangerous low-level ground attack mission, rather than flying top cover. Would be interesting to be a fly on the wall as Kiki tears strips off her brother-in-law Albrecht.