Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
In basically every professional military, there are certain jobs and postings that are reserved for those whom the higher ups have deemed to have the potential to become part of the future leadership in that military organization.
LF Jr. was on that Fast Track as seen by his stint with the Grand Admiral, but he was soon shunted into the commands of small crafts, except for a stint on a destroyer as an XO, and a staff job dealing with logistics during The Polish Intervention.
Erich has more than proven himself in combat and will soon get his next assignment.
Whatever that assignment is will show us where his career is going, the best place for him is probably something to do with Plans & Operations at ethier Kiel or Wunsdorf.
LF Jr. was on that Fast Track as seen by his stint with the Grand Admiral, but he was soon shunted into the commands of small crafts, except for a stint on a destroyer as an XO, and a staff job dealing with logistics during The Polish Intervention.
Erich has more than proven himself in combat and will soon get his next assignment.
Whatever that assignment is will show us where his career is going, the best place for him is probably something to do with Plans & Operations at ethier Kiel or Wunsdorf.
It wont be to his father about the Ozelots Captain and his immediate superior, it will be to someone much higher in the food chain. With Sean Flynn around and there might be pictures, not to mention telling how the fleet cut and run on them by a certain USMC observer, there will be a closed door session with Eric and such involving really high ups.
Lee and Flynn give Raeder a significant amount of plausible deniability.
Obviously Erich has no control over anything Flynn sends back to be published, and he can't stop Lee from providing off the record comments.
Honest Guv.
I suspect the Captain of the Ozelot and his commanding officer may find themselves promoted to a position ensuring the seaborne security of the KLM's facilities in the Antarctic...
Part 150, Chapter 2735
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Thirty-Five
23rd November 1978
Semangka Bay, Lampung, Sumatra
It wasn’t as if they could stand in line for food now that the Battalion Kitchen had finally come ashore. It would make them a very inviting target considering that the area they controlled was well within rifle range of the vast expanse that they didn’t. Instead they waited around in the rear area waiting for their turn. Tyrone Lee had a great view of countryside that was a lot less picturesque then it had been.
A couple days earlier this valley had been peaceful place with palm oil plantations and race paddies below forested hills. Now everything was scorched, blackened ruin and anyone with even the slightest bit of sense had fled. Lee had watched it all as the German Marines had taken on what they said were pirates, but he had his doubts. When he had spoken with the CIA Officers in Jakarta they had mentioned that what the Dutch and Germans termed pirates had started as a liberation movement back in the 1940’s, but they had made the mistake of greeting the Japanese as if they were liberators. The result was that most of their membership had been decimated. First by the Japanese who had decided that they were more trouble than they were worth, then by the Dutch and their local catspaws who had dragged out and shot anyone they could grab. The survivors had turned to piracy, raiding the shipping lanes to keep the revolution going. Added to that was the People’s Democratic Front as the Communists in the East Indies were calling themselves and local sectarian nutcases coming out of the woodwork… The situation was a mess with the people on these islands seeing each other as enemies rather than the Dutch who had continued to exploit the resources mostly unopposed.
Lee didn’t have an opinion in the matter. He just knew that elements of the German Division he had been tasked with observing had been deployed into the field and the Corps had let him know that they were extremely interested in getting a real, unadulterated account of their biggest international rivals in combat. The trouble was that between Korea and the East Indies, the CIA had their own game going and Lee had not heard from his own commanders in the USMC’s G-2. Now he had the headache of Sean Flynn showing up. The last thing on earth he needed was for the wire services to be publishing photographs of events before his reports made it back to Camp Pendelton. That meant that Lee would need to make some kind of an arrangement with Flynn to keep it from playing like that.
“For you” Poldi said as he poured a ladle full of… well, Lee had no idea what it was supposed to be into the canteen cup, just that Poldi, the Senior Cook of the Battalion was known to be disturbingly creative in his ability to turn unlikely things into a meal for hundreds of men. “There’s bread too.”
“Thanks” Lee replied, and Poldi just shrugged. Perhaps if the Cook didn’t have a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth and found a clean apron, Lee would have regarded the food with something other than thinly veiled horror. Poldi struck Lee as the sort of terminal E4 that infested every Military Unit in the world. Lee had heard that he had been a Rifleman but had grown too old, letting him stay on as a Cook was how the German Marines took care of matters like these. Keeping it in the family as it were. The other thing to consider was bread, the coarse ryebread was objectively terrible, but the Germans put a shocking amount of effort into having it available in nearly every corner of the globe. The American equivalent might have been a can of Spam, a case of Pabst, or a pack of Luckies, perhaps a Hershy bar. Lee wasn’t certain. Anything for a taste of home. It made the German Marine’s statements about how whatever ground they were standing was Germany sort of ironic.
However, looking at the questionable “stew” in the canteen cup, Lee figured that he had better take some of the bread. At least he could tell exactly what it was as he took a hunk of it.
“I was told that this was a four-star hotel, Sarge” Flynn said as Lee joined him on the steps in the front of a burnt-out plantation hut. “Know where the manager is, I have a complaint?”
“I think that I saw Hauptmann Dunkel by one of those 20mm guns” Lee replied, and Flynn’s mirth vanished.
Late the night before the perimeter had been attacked and the old Flak 38s that had been brought ashore just after sunset had come as a nasty surprise to the attackers. The old 20mm cannons might be obsolescent as anti-aircraft guns, but excelled when it came to chopping insurgents to pieces. Flynn would have witnessed the whole thing firsthand. He had once bragged within Lee’s hearing the he had quit acting because it was boring. Lee knew that Flynn had spent the night before in a ditch with a firefight going on just a few yards away. Was that exciding enough for him? The aftermath of that would have been very disturbing for a tourist like him.
“On second thought, I think that the complaint can wait” Flynn said, finally making a sensible choice.
23rd November 1978
Semangka Bay, Lampung, Sumatra
It wasn’t as if they could stand in line for food now that the Battalion Kitchen had finally come ashore. It would make them a very inviting target considering that the area they controlled was well within rifle range of the vast expanse that they didn’t. Instead they waited around in the rear area waiting for their turn. Tyrone Lee had a great view of countryside that was a lot less picturesque then it had been.
A couple days earlier this valley had been peaceful place with palm oil plantations and race paddies below forested hills. Now everything was scorched, blackened ruin and anyone with even the slightest bit of sense had fled. Lee had watched it all as the German Marines had taken on what they said were pirates, but he had his doubts. When he had spoken with the CIA Officers in Jakarta they had mentioned that what the Dutch and Germans termed pirates had started as a liberation movement back in the 1940’s, but they had made the mistake of greeting the Japanese as if they were liberators. The result was that most of their membership had been decimated. First by the Japanese who had decided that they were more trouble than they were worth, then by the Dutch and their local catspaws who had dragged out and shot anyone they could grab. The survivors had turned to piracy, raiding the shipping lanes to keep the revolution going. Added to that was the People’s Democratic Front as the Communists in the East Indies were calling themselves and local sectarian nutcases coming out of the woodwork… The situation was a mess with the people on these islands seeing each other as enemies rather than the Dutch who had continued to exploit the resources mostly unopposed.
Lee didn’t have an opinion in the matter. He just knew that elements of the German Division he had been tasked with observing had been deployed into the field and the Corps had let him know that they were extremely interested in getting a real, unadulterated account of their biggest international rivals in combat. The trouble was that between Korea and the East Indies, the CIA had their own game going and Lee had not heard from his own commanders in the USMC’s G-2. Now he had the headache of Sean Flynn showing up. The last thing on earth he needed was for the wire services to be publishing photographs of events before his reports made it back to Camp Pendelton. That meant that Lee would need to make some kind of an arrangement with Flynn to keep it from playing like that.
“For you” Poldi said as he poured a ladle full of… well, Lee had no idea what it was supposed to be into the canteen cup, just that Poldi, the Senior Cook of the Battalion was known to be disturbingly creative in his ability to turn unlikely things into a meal for hundreds of men. “There’s bread too.”
“Thanks” Lee replied, and Poldi just shrugged. Perhaps if the Cook didn’t have a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth and found a clean apron, Lee would have regarded the food with something other than thinly veiled horror. Poldi struck Lee as the sort of terminal E4 that infested every Military Unit in the world. Lee had heard that he had been a Rifleman but had grown too old, letting him stay on as a Cook was how the German Marines took care of matters like these. Keeping it in the family as it were. The other thing to consider was bread, the coarse ryebread was objectively terrible, but the Germans put a shocking amount of effort into having it available in nearly every corner of the globe. The American equivalent might have been a can of Spam, a case of Pabst, or a pack of Luckies, perhaps a Hershy bar. Lee wasn’t certain. Anything for a taste of home. It made the German Marine’s statements about how whatever ground they were standing was Germany sort of ironic.
However, looking at the questionable “stew” in the canteen cup, Lee figured that he had better take some of the bread. At least he could tell exactly what it was as he took a hunk of it.
“I was told that this was a four-star hotel, Sarge” Flynn said as Lee joined him on the steps in the front of a burnt-out plantation hut. “Know where the manager is, I have a complaint?”
“I think that I saw Hauptmann Dunkel by one of those 20mm guns” Lee replied, and Flynn’s mirth vanished.
Late the night before the perimeter had been attacked and the old Flak 38s that had been brought ashore just after sunset had come as a nasty surprise to the attackers. The old 20mm cannons might be obsolescent as anti-aircraft guns, but excelled when it came to chopping insurgents to pieces. Flynn would have witnessed the whole thing firsthand. He had once bragged within Lee’s hearing the he had quit acting because it was boring. Lee knew that Flynn had spent the night before in a ditch with a firefight going on just a few yards away. Was that exciding enough for him? The aftermath of that would have been very disturbing for a tourist like him.
“On second thought, I think that the complaint can wait” Flynn said, finally making a sensible choice.
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Honestly, I can see Flynn being willing to make an agreement with Lee on this. Might have to offer him an interview with the only American military man anywhere near the area as the sweetener, which I'm sure Lee will hate, but considering Flynn doesn't seem to have his head up his ass it probably won't be that bad.
Now what will be the real kicker will be if Flynn compiles his chats with all the grunts and officers as well as the film he'll use about the German marines into an article and winds up re-defining the American public's perception of "the Hun" for the next decade or so.
Bonus points if Lee does something to wind up with a German service medal that Tilo has to give him
Now what will be the real kicker will be if Flynn compiles his chats with all the grunts and officers as well as the film he'll use about the German marines into an article and winds up re-defining the American public's perception of "the Hun" for the next decade or so.
Bonus points if Lee does something to wind up with a German service medal that Tilo has to give him
Nah, he's showing too much competence so far to be properly gonzo.
If anything I'd say he's almost the same as Doug was in his youth. Just with a bit more ego.
Spam? How dare he compare it to ryebread!
What a monster of a man this Lee is.
Spam is amazing.
Slice it up a little, fry it up, no spices needed but a little sugar + pepper on if you have it and mmmmmmm it's beautiful.
Or dice it and fry it up with some diced bread (same size) and you get something delicious.
Or just boil slices of it with noodles...
Spam is glorious.
Eating it straight from the can is a bit annoying though.
What a monster of a man this Lee is.
Spam is amazing.
Slice it up a little, fry it up, no spices needed but a little sugar + pepper on if you have it and mmmmmmm it's beautiful.
Or dice it and fry it up with some diced bread (same size) and you get something delicious.
Or just boil slices of it with noodles...
Spam is glorious.
Eating it straight from the can is a bit annoying though.
Can confirm, then again I was also suffering from serious sleep deprivation and altitude sickness at the time so that may colour my perceptions.
It is amazing fried though.
It gets even more convoluted when you learn that Lili Damita was romantically involved with Louis Ferdinand von Preussen when he was in the United States in the 20's and 30's. That didn't work out, but there is a reason why Sean Flynn called Kiki his might-have-been little sister.
Errol Flynn inspired Australian Crawl, one of the great bands of Oz pub rock in the 1980s to write a tribute song in his honour…
Part 151, Chapter 2736
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Thirty-Six
25th November 1978
Hamburg, Germany
Word had reached Erich that it didn’t really matter that he had been evacuated. The operation in the East Indies was at an end now that the logistics base of the pirates they had been fighting had been pretty thoroughly wrecked. They had not gotten Suharto this time, so what. There was a bullet with his name on it somewhere, it was only a matter of time.
It hadn’t been the wound in his leg that had cause Erich to be evacuated. Instead it was the side effects of the antibiotics mixed with the damp heat of Sumatra’s monsoon season that had been given that had made him that sick. When Erich had collapsed a few days after the landings they had shoved him onto a helicopter. By the time he woke up he was already in the Military Hospital in Hamburg. The Doctor had informed him that they were keeping him for now in case he had brought back any tropical bugs and despite the shrapnel wound in his left leg looking like it was healing, they wanted to keep a close eye on that too. Because a Leutnant was very junior in the perspective of the Hospital Administration, Erich from himself sharing an open Ward with Noncoms and Warrant Officers of various kinds as well as a Cadet from the Naval Academy who had broken an arm on the athletic field. Erich didn’t mind, he had not known much personal privacy since he had entered the Prussian Institute in Groß-Lichterfelde almost a decade earlier.
The trouble was that there was nothing to do in the hospital but sleep, count the holes in the tiles in the ceiling and watch television, which seemed very inane after everything that had happened. He had tried to go outside into the garden briefly, but after spending the summer in Korea and months in the Tropics, the cold on even a sunny late autumn morning had been a complete shock. He had found himself back in his bed under heavy wool blankets.
Later Erich had dozed off when he woke up to a commotion in the hallway. His father stormed in red-faced, clearly outraged. He was clutching a copy of a newspaper, his knuckles white with how hard he was gripping it. The Charge Nurse and Erich’s mother had followed his father into the ward. Erich’s mother looked frightened at his father’s very public outburst while the Charge Nurse looked like she was about to thump him for intruding into the Hospital Ward that she managed.
“How could you do this after everything I have tried to do for you over the last two years!” Erich’s father bellowed at him, “Why do you have to salt the earth?”
Erich had no idea what his father was talking about. He had not seen his parents in months. The last time his father had told him about how he was pulling strings and calling in favors to get him out of the Marine Infantry and getting him into a more civilized career track. Looking at his father, it occurred to Erich that it had never actually been about him. Did his father’s narcissism have any bounds? By accident of birth, Erich had the same name as all the first-born men in his family going back to his storied great grandfather. The reason for his father’s stalled career and unsuccessful life in the years since his retirement. It was probably the reason for the same thing happening to his grandfather as well. Erich’s father was unwilling to make sacrifices, he ducked the hard decisions, and his selfish nature had been plain as day to his superiors and subordinates alike.
“What did I supposedly do this time?” Erich asked, becoming annoyed by his father’s antics.
“You have no idea?” Erich’s father demanded.
“I’ve spent the last several months as far as you could possibly be from Kiel and still be on the planet” Erich replied.
His father looked at the newspaper he clutched before reluctantly handing it to Erich. It was an early edition of the Sunday paper. On the front page below the headline, Marine Infantry comes under heavy fire on Sumatra, was a photograph of Erich himself when he had been leading his Platoon in full color, which was a recent development with newspapers. He had been in the process of organizing the defense as they had come under attack. He had already been hit at that point and blood that had been soaking into his trousers was clearly visible. The photograph and much of the article was the work of Sean Flynn, who Erich had hardly paid attention to after the Photojournalist had joined them on Borneo.
The article detailed the experiences of the men under Erich’s command as well as his exploits, mostly Aaron Muller and Sam Beltz if he had to guess. It also detailed Erich’s battles with the Battalion leadership and the Platoon’s low opinion of the Captain of the SMS Ozelot. Erich knew his men didn’t take certain words lightly, so them calling a high-ranking Officer like a Kapitan-zur-See a coward was particularly damning. Seeing the Captain’s name Erich realized that he was a part of his father’s social circle. Erich’s men making those comments about him was basically Erich himself declaring war.
Erich threw the paper onto the table beside his bed as his father stared at him. “I don’t know what you expect me to say?” He asked, “I didn’t tell them to say this, but every word of it is the truth.”
Of all the things that Erich could have said, his father had not been expecting that.
“How dare you!” Erich’s father bellowed at him, “Do you have any idea about…”
Erich was out of his bed in a heartbeat, he ignored the pain in left leg and the cold linoleum floor. Grabbing his father’s collar, Erich twisted it with both hands as he jerked him forward, cutting off his father’s air in the process.
“I watched your friend run the instant he came under fire leaving me and the men under my command to deal with guns dug into the hills above the beaches we landed on, not just once but twice” Erich said, his face just millimeters from his father’s. “You expect me to ignore that?”
Erich’s father’s eyes looked like they were about to bug out of his head while Erich’s mother looked terrified. Just what had they expected to happen?
25th November 1978
Hamburg, Germany
Word had reached Erich that it didn’t really matter that he had been evacuated. The operation in the East Indies was at an end now that the logistics base of the pirates they had been fighting had been pretty thoroughly wrecked. They had not gotten Suharto this time, so what. There was a bullet with his name on it somewhere, it was only a matter of time.
It hadn’t been the wound in his leg that had cause Erich to be evacuated. Instead it was the side effects of the antibiotics mixed with the damp heat of Sumatra’s monsoon season that had been given that had made him that sick. When Erich had collapsed a few days after the landings they had shoved him onto a helicopter. By the time he woke up he was already in the Military Hospital in Hamburg. The Doctor had informed him that they were keeping him for now in case he had brought back any tropical bugs and despite the shrapnel wound in his left leg looking like it was healing, they wanted to keep a close eye on that too. Because a Leutnant was very junior in the perspective of the Hospital Administration, Erich from himself sharing an open Ward with Noncoms and Warrant Officers of various kinds as well as a Cadet from the Naval Academy who had broken an arm on the athletic field. Erich didn’t mind, he had not known much personal privacy since he had entered the Prussian Institute in Groß-Lichterfelde almost a decade earlier.
The trouble was that there was nothing to do in the hospital but sleep, count the holes in the tiles in the ceiling and watch television, which seemed very inane after everything that had happened. He had tried to go outside into the garden briefly, but after spending the summer in Korea and months in the Tropics, the cold on even a sunny late autumn morning had been a complete shock. He had found himself back in his bed under heavy wool blankets.
Later Erich had dozed off when he woke up to a commotion in the hallway. His father stormed in red-faced, clearly outraged. He was clutching a copy of a newspaper, his knuckles white with how hard he was gripping it. The Charge Nurse and Erich’s mother had followed his father into the ward. Erich’s mother looked frightened at his father’s very public outburst while the Charge Nurse looked like she was about to thump him for intruding into the Hospital Ward that she managed.
“How could you do this after everything I have tried to do for you over the last two years!” Erich’s father bellowed at him, “Why do you have to salt the earth?”
Erich had no idea what his father was talking about. He had not seen his parents in months. The last time his father had told him about how he was pulling strings and calling in favors to get him out of the Marine Infantry and getting him into a more civilized career track. Looking at his father, it occurred to Erich that it had never actually been about him. Did his father’s narcissism have any bounds? By accident of birth, Erich had the same name as all the first-born men in his family going back to his storied great grandfather. The reason for his father’s stalled career and unsuccessful life in the years since his retirement. It was probably the reason for the same thing happening to his grandfather as well. Erich’s father was unwilling to make sacrifices, he ducked the hard decisions, and his selfish nature had been plain as day to his superiors and subordinates alike.
“What did I supposedly do this time?” Erich asked, becoming annoyed by his father’s antics.
“You have no idea?” Erich’s father demanded.
“I’ve spent the last several months as far as you could possibly be from Kiel and still be on the planet” Erich replied.
His father looked at the newspaper he clutched before reluctantly handing it to Erich. It was an early edition of the Sunday paper. On the front page below the headline, Marine Infantry comes under heavy fire on Sumatra, was a photograph of Erich himself when he had been leading his Platoon in full color, which was a recent development with newspapers. He had been in the process of organizing the defense as they had come under attack. He had already been hit at that point and blood that had been soaking into his trousers was clearly visible. The photograph and much of the article was the work of Sean Flynn, who Erich had hardly paid attention to after the Photojournalist had joined them on Borneo.
The article detailed the experiences of the men under Erich’s command as well as his exploits, mostly Aaron Muller and Sam Beltz if he had to guess. It also detailed Erich’s battles with the Battalion leadership and the Platoon’s low opinion of the Captain of the SMS Ozelot. Erich knew his men didn’t take certain words lightly, so them calling a high-ranking Officer like a Kapitan-zur-See a coward was particularly damning. Seeing the Captain’s name Erich realized that he was a part of his father’s social circle. Erich’s men making those comments about him was basically Erich himself declaring war.
Erich threw the paper onto the table beside his bed as his father stared at him. “I don’t know what you expect me to say?” He asked, “I didn’t tell them to say this, but every word of it is the truth.”
Of all the things that Erich could have said, his father had not been expecting that.
“How dare you!” Erich’s father bellowed at him, “Do you have any idea about…”
Erich was out of his bed in a heartbeat, he ignored the pain in left leg and the cold linoleum floor. Grabbing his father’s collar, Erich twisted it with both hands as he jerked him forward, cutting off his father’s air in the process.
“I watched your friend run the instant he came under fire leaving me and the men under my command to deal with guns dug into the hills above the beaches we landed on, not just once but twice” Erich said, his face just millimeters from his father’s. “You expect me to ignore that?”
Erich’s father’s eyes looked like they were about to bug out of his head while Erich’s mother looked terrified. Just what had they expected to happen?
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Thank you
This time line is one I continually look forward to with the interrelationships & people you can get behind
This time line is one I continually look forward to with the interrelationships & people you can get behind