If I was whoever is in charge of the SPD in 1978 (Schmidt unless Butterflies got to him), I'd be very carefully saying nothing to discourage Kissinger's "Allies" from chasing down this idea as something to run on a national platform on. Hell, I'd lean in and make it a big issue, get the women and minority vote and you are looking at holding the Chancellory no problems.
Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
If Nan needs hours of flying time, when is she going to happen to fly to Italy? It's just a hope over the Alps to Northern Italy and not that much further down to the Southern part or Sicily. Lot of small military airfields that that plane can get into and out off and who knows what person might be around there.
The problem for the Turks is that there are no good options left for them except total capitulation to the Greeks, and hope that the Greeks turn their eyes on to other places.
Turkey can't get any help from Great Britian and Italy because it is in their best interests to have Greece completely focused on Turkey instead of Cyprus and the Dodecanes Islands.
As for the United States, except for arm sales and a possible naval base at Adana, there is no reason for the United States to get involved.
Germany may be having an influx of Turkish refugees, and there was an update about Turkish hijackers or bombing in Hamburg, but otherwise Germany has no interests except to prevent the situation from escalating.
As for Heinz Kissinger, he has found out that it is easier to ride the tiger then to get off of it.
One of the unexpected consequences of the rise of antisemitism in Germany is that there has been a major push by otherwise secular Jews from around the world to contribute money to purchase land in the Palestine Mandate and to help send Jews from Eastern Europe who are being increasingly oppressed in places like Russia, Poland, and Belarus to resettle in the Mandate.
The best bet for Kissinger is to call for an election and hope to force a collation government with the SDP and freeze out the extremist small parties on the right.
Turkey can't get any help from Great Britian and Italy because it is in their best interests to have Greece completely focused on Turkey instead of Cyprus and the Dodecanes Islands.
As for the United States, except for arm sales and a possible naval base at Adana, there is no reason for the United States to get involved.
Germany may be having an influx of Turkish refugees, and there was an update about Turkish hijackers or bombing in Hamburg, but otherwise Germany has no interests except to prevent the situation from escalating.
As for Heinz Kissinger, he has found out that it is easier to ride the tiger then to get off of it.
One of the unexpected consequences of the rise of antisemitism in Germany is that there has been a major push by otherwise secular Jews from around the world to contribute money to purchase land in the Palestine Mandate and to help send Jews from Eastern Europe who are being increasingly oppressed in places like Russia, Poland, and Belarus to resettle in the Mandate.
The best bet for Kissinger is to call for an election and hope to force a collation government with the SDP and freeze out the extremist small parties on the right.
Part 147, Chapter 2655
Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Fifty-Five
23rd January 1978
Rural Silesia
Christian Weise had told his superiors that Einar Tann was a wizard with a radio in order to get him assigned to the Artillery Battery. Unfortunately, that had some rather unfortunate consequences because Christian had a bit too good of a job talking up Einar. Just minutes earlier, 15-centimeter shells had churned up the landscape a few hundred meters away. The goal had been to keep the dispersion low, and the Battery had mostly managed to do that.
“You don’t hear it coming Sir, but you certainly know when it arrives” Einar said nervously to Manfred von Richthofen. The König didn’t really respond, he just handed his binoculars back to an aide before giving Einar a slight nod. That was plenty of notice as far as Einar was concerned.
Einar had heard the African expression about how when elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. The men who had accompanied him today certainly counted as elephants as far as these things go. Manfred von Richthofen, König of Silesia, and the grandfather of Christian’s wife Katherine, accompanied by the Marshal of Silesia, Tilo Schultz. The men who surrounded them were all Brass of one sort or another and as an Oberfeldwebel, Einar understood all too well how easy it would be to paint himself into a corner with such a crowd. Richthofen and Schultz might have been careerists in the Luftwaffe and Marine Infantry respectively, but they had a reputation of giving a bit of latitude to the Soldaten. Einar wasn’t sure about the others. He had already gotten a second chance though his friendship with Christian, one he intended not to jeopardize. Presently, he was explaining how the radio with the built in encoder worked and how in his capacity as a Forward Artillery Observer, he could call down 15-centimeter shells from over the horizon with surprising accuracy for weapons that were not known for finesse.
When Christian had recommended him for this job, it had brought back uncomfortable memories. The crash of the shells as they hit the ground and the sound that made as they sliced through the air that you only heard after they had passed. Einar had been there when Manny von Mischner had called down an artillery strike on their own position when they had been being overrun by the Chilean Army. That had almost worked, but they had briefly been captured by the Chileans anyway. Einar might have been able to live with that, but the idiotic conscript who had insisted that he leave the hole he had been sheltering in had shot him in a case of nerves. He remembered the horrified look on that boy’s face when he realized what he had done. That was small comfort for Einar when it had taken more than a year to recover. For better or worse, Einar had needed to get over all of that in a hurry.
Montreal, Canada
The Barista smiled when Marie Alexandra paid for a cup of coffee and mumbled the words “Thank you.”
Going straight back to her table, Marie gave an exasperated sigh as she looked at the pile of dry material that was a mere fraction of what she would need to get through by the end of the Spring Term. Books, notes from lectures and her own research. While she was set to graduate with the rest of her class in May, there was a staggering amount of work needing to be done between now and then. She had also seen the multitude of devious ways her Professors used to catch students who attempted to sidestep the process, the old line about how you have no idea what was going to be on the test until it got asked certainly applied. So you either knew the subject or you didn’t, and there were no shortcuts. There were days when she worried that she was going to wear out the keyboard of the personal computer that had been a gift from her mother last year because she had needed to type out papers that ran into the tens of thousands of words and others where if she had to look at one more word printed on a page she would lose her mind…
“Can I sit here?” A voice asked. Marie noticed the accent, Metropolitan French. Much to her annoyance.
Marie looked up and saw a man with an easy grin and a wool hat that he was wearing at a jaunty angle. She had seen the same man a few too many times over the last couple months in several different locations. That meant that his presence wasn’t a coincidence. Marie had known two distinct types of spies who had followed her around over the last few years. The most common were those who were basically faceless bureaucrats tasked with merely watching. Then there was the other kind, those who seemed to think that she would just swoon if they presented themselves with a sort of devil-may-care attitude and brash demeanor that was as fake as this man’s smile. For her it was plain to see that his grin did not extend to his eyes.
“I would prefer that you didn’t” Marie replied as the man sat down there anyway. “As you can see, I’ve a lot to do.”
The man looked at the spines of the books that Marie had stacked on the table. “I can see that” He said, “John Calvin and Thomas Hobbes? Those are not two names I would expect to see together.”
“That not your concern” Marie replied, glaring at the man.
“How rude of me not to introduce myself” The man said, “Thomas Lachapelle, of course, you are the beautiful Marie Alexandra Prinzessin von Mischner-Blackwood zu Berlin.”
He then held out his hand, which Marie just stared at.
“What are you doing here?” Marie demanded.
“I won’t insult your intelligence by lying to you” Thomas replied, “I think you already know who I am.”
“I know perfectly well what you are” Marie replied, Thomas just smiled. “Isn’t this exceeding your orders or something? Won’t you get in trouble.”
“My employer gives me rather wide latitude in how I approach matters like this one” Thomas said, “After you eluded my team in this city’s Chinatown a few days ago I figured more direct action was necessary.”
Funny how actually knowing Chinese had helped her vanish in that particular instance, Marie thought to herself. Thomas had also just accidentally revealed who he worked for. She had doubled back and had eavesdropped on some of his team discovering they were French DGSE.
“Just what were you expecting to come of this?” Marie asked, “Bothering me in public.”
Thomas just shrugged, “You never know” He replied.
“You are not my type” Marie stated flatly.
Before Thomas could respond to that, the Barista placed Marie’s coffee on the table. Again she smiled when Marie thanked her before her expression hardened when she saw Thomas as she went back behind the counter.
“I might not be your type” Thomas said with a nod towards the Barista, “But I suspect that you are probably hers.”
That was not what Marie was expecting to hear and she could feel her cheeks burning as she tried to look back to the book she had been reading. Only for Thomas to find her reaction amusing.
23rd January 1978
Rural Silesia
Christian Weise had told his superiors that Einar Tann was a wizard with a radio in order to get him assigned to the Artillery Battery. Unfortunately, that had some rather unfortunate consequences because Christian had a bit too good of a job talking up Einar. Just minutes earlier, 15-centimeter shells had churned up the landscape a few hundred meters away. The goal had been to keep the dispersion low, and the Battery had mostly managed to do that.
“You don’t hear it coming Sir, but you certainly know when it arrives” Einar said nervously to Manfred von Richthofen. The König didn’t really respond, he just handed his binoculars back to an aide before giving Einar a slight nod. That was plenty of notice as far as Einar was concerned.
Einar had heard the African expression about how when elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. The men who had accompanied him today certainly counted as elephants as far as these things go. Manfred von Richthofen, König of Silesia, and the grandfather of Christian’s wife Katherine, accompanied by the Marshal of Silesia, Tilo Schultz. The men who surrounded them were all Brass of one sort or another and as an Oberfeldwebel, Einar understood all too well how easy it would be to paint himself into a corner with such a crowd. Richthofen and Schultz might have been careerists in the Luftwaffe and Marine Infantry respectively, but they had a reputation of giving a bit of latitude to the Soldaten. Einar wasn’t sure about the others. He had already gotten a second chance though his friendship with Christian, one he intended not to jeopardize. Presently, he was explaining how the radio with the built in encoder worked and how in his capacity as a Forward Artillery Observer, he could call down 15-centimeter shells from over the horizon with surprising accuracy for weapons that were not known for finesse.
When Christian had recommended him for this job, it had brought back uncomfortable memories. The crash of the shells as they hit the ground and the sound that made as they sliced through the air that you only heard after they had passed. Einar had been there when Manny von Mischner had called down an artillery strike on their own position when they had been being overrun by the Chilean Army. That had almost worked, but they had briefly been captured by the Chileans anyway. Einar might have been able to live with that, but the idiotic conscript who had insisted that he leave the hole he had been sheltering in had shot him in a case of nerves. He remembered the horrified look on that boy’s face when he realized what he had done. That was small comfort for Einar when it had taken more than a year to recover. For better or worse, Einar had needed to get over all of that in a hurry.
Montreal, Canada
The Barista smiled when Marie Alexandra paid for a cup of coffee and mumbled the words “Thank you.”
Going straight back to her table, Marie gave an exasperated sigh as she looked at the pile of dry material that was a mere fraction of what she would need to get through by the end of the Spring Term. Books, notes from lectures and her own research. While she was set to graduate with the rest of her class in May, there was a staggering amount of work needing to be done between now and then. She had also seen the multitude of devious ways her Professors used to catch students who attempted to sidestep the process, the old line about how you have no idea what was going to be on the test until it got asked certainly applied. So you either knew the subject or you didn’t, and there were no shortcuts. There were days when she worried that she was going to wear out the keyboard of the personal computer that had been a gift from her mother last year because she had needed to type out papers that ran into the tens of thousands of words and others where if she had to look at one more word printed on a page she would lose her mind…
“Can I sit here?” A voice asked. Marie noticed the accent, Metropolitan French. Much to her annoyance.
Marie looked up and saw a man with an easy grin and a wool hat that he was wearing at a jaunty angle. She had seen the same man a few too many times over the last couple months in several different locations. That meant that his presence wasn’t a coincidence. Marie had known two distinct types of spies who had followed her around over the last few years. The most common were those who were basically faceless bureaucrats tasked with merely watching. Then there was the other kind, those who seemed to think that she would just swoon if they presented themselves with a sort of devil-may-care attitude and brash demeanor that was as fake as this man’s smile. For her it was plain to see that his grin did not extend to his eyes.
“I would prefer that you didn’t” Marie replied as the man sat down there anyway. “As you can see, I’ve a lot to do.”
The man looked at the spines of the books that Marie had stacked on the table. “I can see that” He said, “John Calvin and Thomas Hobbes? Those are not two names I would expect to see together.”
“That not your concern” Marie replied, glaring at the man.
“How rude of me not to introduce myself” The man said, “Thomas Lachapelle, of course, you are the beautiful Marie Alexandra Prinzessin von Mischner-Blackwood zu Berlin.”
He then held out his hand, which Marie just stared at.
“What are you doing here?” Marie demanded.
“I won’t insult your intelligence by lying to you” Thomas replied, “I think you already know who I am.”
“I know perfectly well what you are” Marie replied, Thomas just smiled. “Isn’t this exceeding your orders or something? Won’t you get in trouble.”
“My employer gives me rather wide latitude in how I approach matters like this one” Thomas said, “After you eluded my team in this city’s Chinatown a few days ago I figured more direct action was necessary.”
Funny how actually knowing Chinese had helped her vanish in that particular instance, Marie thought to herself. Thomas had also just accidentally revealed who he worked for. She had doubled back and had eavesdropped on some of his team discovering they were French DGSE.
“Just what were you expecting to come of this?” Marie asked, “Bothering me in public.”
Thomas just shrugged, “You never know” He replied.
“You are not my type” Marie stated flatly.
Before Thomas could respond to that, the Barista placed Marie’s coffee on the table. Again she smiled when Marie thanked her before her expression hardened when she saw Thomas as she went back behind the counter.
“I might not be your type” Thomas said with a nod towards the Barista, “But I suspect that you are probably hers.”
That was not what Marie was expecting to hear and she could feel her cheeks burning as she tried to look back to the book she had been reading. Only for Thomas to find her reaction amusing.
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Actually, not a coincidence. Bill Watterson based the personalities of his characters on the philosophies of French Theologian John Calvin and English Philosopher Thomas Hobbes.
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Once again an intelligence service has misconstrued the situation with Marie, they still think that Marie is involved with something but don't know what, the fact that Marie isn't involved hasn't crossed their mind.
Hopefully, Marie will be able to escape all of that when she goes to Trinity...
When we were first introduced to the Third Landswehr Division when Hans von Mischner took over, it was a very unprofessional outfit that he was able to begin to turnaround.
Now having veteran officers and NCOs like Christian and Einar has made the Third a top reserve division that is getting first line equipment, of course having Manfred von Richthofen as the King of Silesia doesn't hurt.
Hopefully, Marie will be able to escape all of that when she goes to Trinity...
When we were first introduced to the Third Landswehr Division when Hans von Mischner took over, it was a very unprofessional outfit that he was able to begin to turnaround.
Now having veteran officers and NCOs like Christian and Einar has made the Third a top reserve division that is getting first line equipment, of course having Manfred von Richthofen as the King of Silesia doesn't hurt.
I doubt that she will be able to escape it. There will always be someone who will think its a good idea to keep tabs on her, just in case. And it's not just because of her mother either.
1) Her paternal grandfather was the head of Canadian Intelligence;
2) Her best friend's father is the head of a Canadian Special Forces unit;
3) Her father has what many players in the game would consider a near perfect cover as a world famous war/news/nature photographer;
4) Her maternal grandfather ran Europe's largest criminal organisation for decades;
5) Her sister is a (confirmed for the Yanks, suspected by the others) player in the game, having joined the German Diplomatic Service;
6) Her brother is as well, being in the Luftwaffe satellite surveillance program.
As far as the various intelligence services are concerned, her "pedigree" is just too strong to be ignored.
The Fieseler Kranich from this timeline occupies the same role as the de Havilland Twin Otter from TTL and OTL, a high-winged twin-turboprop light STOL transport. The key differences are that the Kranich was intended as a Military Transport from the outset, so it has a rear cargo ramp, a glazed nose as opposed to a stepped cockpit, and a T-tail to keep the control surfaces well above the ground.
Marie doesn't really have those leanings. Thomas Lachappelle used what he observed about the Barista to needle her.
Part 147, Chapter 2656
Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Fifty-Six
3rd February 1978
Rome, Italy
Most girls would have been sorely disappointed by the gift that Nan had received on the day her family celebrated her birthday the prior June. She had no idea when her actual birthday was. The only one who might have known the date was the daughter of the monster who had held Nan’s mother prisoner and she had never shared that information. Her family had celebrated her birthday on the same as Nella’s shortly after they had adopted her, it had been a way to let her know that she belonged. Until they had done that for her, she’d had no idea what a birthday was. Her adopted mother had been afraid that she would find the party disappointing at a time when Nan was still having to get used to sleeping in a bed, so she had no expectations. Still though, Nan was thankful that Louis and Charlotte had made everything perfect.
Several years later during the celebration of Nella and Nan’s eighteenth birthday, Louis and Charlotte had given her nothing but a pair of sunglasses, Ray-Ban Aviators with polarized green lenes and polished gunmetal frame. For Nan, those sunglasses meant more than anything in the world. They implied her parent’s support for what she wanted to do with her life. A few months later, Nella had given her a custom-made Luftwaffe issue fight helmet. She was wearing both the helmet and sunglasses as she was flying into Rome Urbe Airport. The view out the front of the Kranich was commanding as followed the course of the River Tiber. She had seen the stepped arrangement preferred by British and American designers in similar aircraft, they had no idea what they were missing.
“You are cleared to land Hotel Juliette” Nan heard the Air Traffic Controller say through the headphones built into her helmet. He was referring to the Civil Registration of the Kranich when he said Hotel Juliette which was painted on the tail, D-CKHJ. She loved to hear them say that as they had guided her over the Alps that afternoon. The Kranich was not a small plane, the tower informed her that they expected it to make full use of the thousand-meter length of runway, as Nan descended she smiled as she throttled back the two Daimler-Benz Turboprop engines, pulled the levers that extended the leading-edge slats and the fowler flaps. The Kranich was flying directly into the wind, so it seemed to float as it settled onto the runway. The landing gear touched down softly and Nan hardly needed to roll out as she turned the plane off onto the taxiway. The tower scrambled to give her different directions to where she was supposed to park.
Shutting down the engines and setting the parking brakes, Nan ran down the checklist. Taking off her helmet, she enjoyed a moment of silence before leaving the Kranich through the forward hatch in the floor just behind the pilot’s seat. It was a sunny afternoon and compared to Berlin, where Nan had taken off from just a couple hours earlier, it was downright tropical.
By the time the car pulled up, she had tied the sleeves of her insulated coveralls around her waist.
“This is not at all what I was expecting” Amedeo Giovani, Prince of Naples, said as he got out of the car.
“When you invited me I warned you that I was coming on my terms” Nan said, “This is what that looks like.”
“Don’t you think you are a tad underdressed?” Amedeo asked, Nan knew that was an incredible understatement. The coveralls were an ugly grey and her hair was a mess from spending the last couple hours inside a helmet. Because she had needed to have the heat on north of the Alps, and glazed nose that cockpit of the Kranich was in looked like a greenhouse. It had also functioned like one once she was over Italy. So she probably smelled like she had been running laps. Finding someplace to take a shower and changing her clothes would probably be the first order of business.
“Do I need to remind you of our deal?” Nan asked in reply.
Amedeo frowned.
The deal was that if he didn’t comment about how she chose to live her life, she wouldn’t bring up his age. Amedeo was more than a decade older than she was, and that was something of a sore spot with him. Of course, Nan found him charming, and it was not as she had promised him anything. All she had done was come to Italy a few times to be seen in public with Amedeo. It was intended to keep his father off his back and Nan knew that she could never compete with the sea, which was the love of his life.
“We have another problem though” Amedeo said, “My father knew about you being the daughter of your former Kaiser, but he also learned that you were adopted.”
Nan just shrugged. “That is not a State secret” She said.
“But you being the only survivor of monstrous experiments carried out by a psychopath seems to be” Amedeo said, “Is any of that true?”
Nan had never had anyone outside her immediate family learn about that detail of her life. She was shocked to hear that Umberto II of Italy had seemed to have learned of it so quickly. At that moment she just realized that she was tired of hiding from her past.
“If you have seen one of those wretched documentaries about what happened on that farm, the kidnapped girls, corpses buried in the forest then you know the story” Nan replied. “Now you have the answer to what they always speculated about, what became of Child Six? Happy?”
Amedeo just stared at her agape. Apparently he had not expected her to just give him a straight answer.
3rd February 1978
Rome, Italy
Most girls would have been sorely disappointed by the gift that Nan had received on the day her family celebrated her birthday the prior June. She had no idea when her actual birthday was. The only one who might have known the date was the daughter of the monster who had held Nan’s mother prisoner and she had never shared that information. Her family had celebrated her birthday on the same as Nella’s shortly after they had adopted her, it had been a way to let her know that she belonged. Until they had done that for her, she’d had no idea what a birthday was. Her adopted mother had been afraid that she would find the party disappointing at a time when Nan was still having to get used to sleeping in a bed, so she had no expectations. Still though, Nan was thankful that Louis and Charlotte had made everything perfect.
Several years later during the celebration of Nella and Nan’s eighteenth birthday, Louis and Charlotte had given her nothing but a pair of sunglasses, Ray-Ban Aviators with polarized green lenes and polished gunmetal frame. For Nan, those sunglasses meant more than anything in the world. They implied her parent’s support for what she wanted to do with her life. A few months later, Nella had given her a custom-made Luftwaffe issue fight helmet. She was wearing both the helmet and sunglasses as she was flying into Rome Urbe Airport. The view out the front of the Kranich was commanding as followed the course of the River Tiber. She had seen the stepped arrangement preferred by British and American designers in similar aircraft, they had no idea what they were missing.
“You are cleared to land Hotel Juliette” Nan heard the Air Traffic Controller say through the headphones built into her helmet. He was referring to the Civil Registration of the Kranich when he said Hotel Juliette which was painted on the tail, D-CKHJ. She loved to hear them say that as they had guided her over the Alps that afternoon. The Kranich was not a small plane, the tower informed her that they expected it to make full use of the thousand-meter length of runway, as Nan descended she smiled as she throttled back the two Daimler-Benz Turboprop engines, pulled the levers that extended the leading-edge slats and the fowler flaps. The Kranich was flying directly into the wind, so it seemed to float as it settled onto the runway. The landing gear touched down softly and Nan hardly needed to roll out as she turned the plane off onto the taxiway. The tower scrambled to give her different directions to where she was supposed to park.
Shutting down the engines and setting the parking brakes, Nan ran down the checklist. Taking off her helmet, she enjoyed a moment of silence before leaving the Kranich through the forward hatch in the floor just behind the pilot’s seat. It was a sunny afternoon and compared to Berlin, where Nan had taken off from just a couple hours earlier, it was downright tropical.
By the time the car pulled up, she had tied the sleeves of her insulated coveralls around her waist.
“This is not at all what I was expecting” Amedeo Giovani, Prince of Naples, said as he got out of the car.
“When you invited me I warned you that I was coming on my terms” Nan said, “This is what that looks like.”
“Don’t you think you are a tad underdressed?” Amedeo asked, Nan knew that was an incredible understatement. The coveralls were an ugly grey and her hair was a mess from spending the last couple hours inside a helmet. Because she had needed to have the heat on north of the Alps, and glazed nose that cockpit of the Kranich was in looked like a greenhouse. It had also functioned like one once she was over Italy. So she probably smelled like she had been running laps. Finding someplace to take a shower and changing her clothes would probably be the first order of business.
“Do I need to remind you of our deal?” Nan asked in reply.
Amedeo frowned.
The deal was that if he didn’t comment about how she chose to live her life, she wouldn’t bring up his age. Amedeo was more than a decade older than she was, and that was something of a sore spot with him. Of course, Nan found him charming, and it was not as she had promised him anything. All she had done was come to Italy a few times to be seen in public with Amedeo. It was intended to keep his father off his back and Nan knew that she could never compete with the sea, which was the love of his life.
“We have another problem though” Amedeo said, “My father knew about you being the daughter of your former Kaiser, but he also learned that you were adopted.”
Nan just shrugged. “That is not a State secret” She said.
“But you being the only survivor of monstrous experiments carried out by a psychopath seems to be” Amedeo said, “Is any of that true?”
Nan had never had anyone outside her immediate family learn about that detail of her life. She was shocked to hear that Umberto II of Italy had seemed to have learned of it so quickly. At that moment she just realized that she was tired of hiding from her past.
“If you have seen one of those wretched documentaries about what happened on that farm, the kidnapped girls, corpses buried in the forest then you know the story” Nan replied. “Now you have the answer to what they always speculated about, what became of Child Six? Happy?”
Amedeo just stared at her agape. Apparently he had not expected her to just give him a straight answer.
While the thought of Nan sharing her birthday with Nella was full of good intentions, Nan is at the point where she wants to reclaim her own identity shown by telling Prince Amedeo that she is "Girl Six".
Nan probably wants to know what her real birthdate is, but is unwilling to beg Gundun for it, maybe Amedeo will try to find out himself using the vast number of resources he has available to him.
Nan probably wants to know what her real birthdate is, but is unwilling to beg Gundun for it, maybe Amedeo will try to find out himself using the vast number of resources he has available to him.
Part 147, Chapter 2657
Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Fifty-Seven
11th February 1978
Richthofen Estate, Rural Silesia
The Heer had decided to make a few changes over the last few years. Mostly that came in the form of implementing what had worked in other countries without actually saying that they were stealing someone else’s ideas. The latest involved field rations and how that was sort of upsetting Army culture. For centuries there had been an agreement between the King of Prussia and the Soldaten that part of being a soldier meant at least one hot meal per day if it was at all possible. The Ministry of War and the Emperor had honored that tradition. The trouble was that the nature of battlefield had changed, many soldiers often found themselves well beyond the capabilities of conventional logistics. Bas’ father told horror stories about being in Vietnam and having to adopt the local diet, mostly of rice and fish. That had been the Marine Infantry, so they had considered themselves lucky to even have food.
In a somewhat belated attempt to address that problem the High Command had started issuing the One-Man Combat Ration Pack or EPa, Types A through E. The implications of the cardboard boxes they came in being perfectly sized to fit two or three in the bottom of a rucksack was not lost on anyone. Niko had tried to point out that much of it was just a repackaging of things that they were already all too familiar with. Namely the erbswurst, oatmeal, hard biscuits, and coarse ryebread that the Heer ordered by the boxcar had been included. The biggest change was that effort had been made to provide tinned entrées that only needed to be heated up. If there was one thing that no Army in the history of the world had ever needed to do, it was train soldiers how to set things on fire. There were also a number of goodies that had been added, but those seemed to have been ignored for now.
Still, Niko was forced to listen to a lot of grumbling from his Platoon about the food. They were reservists and as was pointed out to him, they were already serving the Emperor in their spare time so the least they could do is provide decent food. He had heard that the grumbling in the Ranks of the regular Army had been even more pronounced. Napoleon had supposedly once said that an Army marches on its stomach, and as Niko had discovered they didn’t like change when it came to what they put in it. But how much of it was because they didn’t like change versus the new items not being edible? Niko figured that he needed an objective opinion from someone with no previous expectations, and he knew exactly who to ask. His eight-year-old sister.
“What is this supposed to be?” Ingrid asked as she peered at what the can’s label said was Sauerbraten with Potatoes & Vegetables that was sitting in a dish on the table. Niko had heated it on the kitchen stove even if that was sort of cheating. He knew how to use the folding “pocket stoves” that the Heer issued, but in practice those were sort used if there were no better options available.
“I’m not sure” Niko said looking at the sheet of paper he had unfolded which had the contents of the EPa, along with ingredients and instructions printed on one side. Printed on the other side were The Soldier’s Rules of Conduct in the Field, AKA the Spanish Rules, which had supposedly saved the Heer a lot of trouble over the last forty years, along with some quotes by famous Generals and Bible verses that they were supposed to find edifying. “It says Beef, Pork, and Mutton, with potatoes, beets, and carrots in sauce.”
Ingrid was interested in everything that Niko did. It came from him being eleven years older than her if he had to guess. He had always been this heroic figure to Ingrid. Now though with him asking her opinions of military survival rations, her normal skepticism seemed to have made her wonder if he was putting one over on her. Of course, mystery meat was a joke that Armies of the world had been putting over on their own soldiers for as long as there had been Armies.
“You actually eat things like this” Ingrid said poking the Sauerbraten with her fork.
“You get really hungry, like haven’t eaten anything in a day or more, and you’ve been on the march” Niko said, “You eat whatever you can get.”
With that, Niko took a bite himself. It wasn’t as bad as some of the complaints he had heard made it out to be, that didn’t mean that it was necessarily Michelin rated either. Ingrid laughed at the look on his face as he chewed on the rubbery meat and vegetables before she tried it herself. They had fun poking fun at the entrée as Niko showed her how the liverwurst was spread on the ryebread, with the small containers of jam as an option. Ingrid though it was fun when Niko showed her how to use the tea and instant coffee with whitener to eat the hard biscuits without breaking your teeth. The oatmeal was just regular oatmeal, but Ingrid was intrigued by the dried fruit, mostly minced apples and raisins that were to be eaten with it. The citrus drink mix was well received, but Niko didn’t tell Ingrid about how it tended to react strangely with the water purification tablets. In the end, she kept the chocolate bar and the chewing gum for herself. Niko didn’t begrudge her for that, his little sister had been a good sport with this particular experiment.
11th February 1978
Richthofen Estate, Rural Silesia
The Heer had decided to make a few changes over the last few years. Mostly that came in the form of implementing what had worked in other countries without actually saying that they were stealing someone else’s ideas. The latest involved field rations and how that was sort of upsetting Army culture. For centuries there had been an agreement between the King of Prussia and the Soldaten that part of being a soldier meant at least one hot meal per day if it was at all possible. The Ministry of War and the Emperor had honored that tradition. The trouble was that the nature of battlefield had changed, many soldiers often found themselves well beyond the capabilities of conventional logistics. Bas’ father told horror stories about being in Vietnam and having to adopt the local diet, mostly of rice and fish. That had been the Marine Infantry, so they had considered themselves lucky to even have food.
In a somewhat belated attempt to address that problem the High Command had started issuing the One-Man Combat Ration Pack or EPa, Types A through E. The implications of the cardboard boxes they came in being perfectly sized to fit two or three in the bottom of a rucksack was not lost on anyone. Niko had tried to point out that much of it was just a repackaging of things that they were already all too familiar with. Namely the erbswurst, oatmeal, hard biscuits, and coarse ryebread that the Heer ordered by the boxcar had been included. The biggest change was that effort had been made to provide tinned entrées that only needed to be heated up. If there was one thing that no Army in the history of the world had ever needed to do, it was train soldiers how to set things on fire. There were also a number of goodies that had been added, but those seemed to have been ignored for now.
Still, Niko was forced to listen to a lot of grumbling from his Platoon about the food. They were reservists and as was pointed out to him, they were already serving the Emperor in their spare time so the least they could do is provide decent food. He had heard that the grumbling in the Ranks of the regular Army had been even more pronounced. Napoleon had supposedly once said that an Army marches on its stomach, and as Niko had discovered they didn’t like change when it came to what they put in it. But how much of it was because they didn’t like change versus the new items not being edible? Niko figured that he needed an objective opinion from someone with no previous expectations, and he knew exactly who to ask. His eight-year-old sister.
“What is this supposed to be?” Ingrid asked as she peered at what the can’s label said was Sauerbraten with Potatoes & Vegetables that was sitting in a dish on the table. Niko had heated it on the kitchen stove even if that was sort of cheating. He knew how to use the folding “pocket stoves” that the Heer issued, but in practice those were sort used if there were no better options available.
“I’m not sure” Niko said looking at the sheet of paper he had unfolded which had the contents of the EPa, along with ingredients and instructions printed on one side. Printed on the other side were The Soldier’s Rules of Conduct in the Field, AKA the Spanish Rules, which had supposedly saved the Heer a lot of trouble over the last forty years, along with some quotes by famous Generals and Bible verses that they were supposed to find edifying. “It says Beef, Pork, and Mutton, with potatoes, beets, and carrots in sauce.”
Ingrid was interested in everything that Niko did. It came from him being eleven years older than her if he had to guess. He had always been this heroic figure to Ingrid. Now though with him asking her opinions of military survival rations, her normal skepticism seemed to have made her wonder if he was putting one over on her. Of course, mystery meat was a joke that Armies of the world had been putting over on their own soldiers for as long as there had been Armies.
“You actually eat things like this” Ingrid said poking the Sauerbraten with her fork.
“You get really hungry, like haven’t eaten anything in a day or more, and you’ve been on the march” Niko said, “You eat whatever you can get.”
With that, Niko took a bite himself. It wasn’t as bad as some of the complaints he had heard made it out to be, that didn’t mean that it was necessarily Michelin rated either. Ingrid laughed at the look on his face as he chewed on the rubbery meat and vegetables before she tried it herself. They had fun poking fun at the entrée as Niko showed her how the liverwurst was spread on the ryebread, with the small containers of jam as an option. Ingrid though it was fun when Niko showed her how to use the tea and instant coffee with whitener to eat the hard biscuits without breaking your teeth. The oatmeal was just regular oatmeal, but Ingrid was intrigued by the dried fruit, mostly minced apples and raisins that were to be eaten with it. The citrus drink mix was well received, but Niko didn’t tell Ingrid about how it tended to react strangely with the water purification tablets. In the end, she kept the chocolate bar and the chewing gum for herself. Niko didn’t begrudge her for that, his little sister had been a good sport with this particular experiment.
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Considering the sort of near cult like devotion that the average Soldaten has towards the field kitchen, if I was in the Bendlerblock I'd be worrying about the words "Soldiers Mutiny" right now with this. What accounts I've read from NATO veterans, the Germans both have it down to an art form and are very protective of their kitchen equipment.
Will give it this much, not so much a step up from actual German field rations from the 40's as a leap to the stars in quality, but still, there's going to be grumbling until the only generations in the military have only known them, and even then they'll grumble about about the old ones being better.
Will give it this much, not so much a step up from actual German field rations from the 40's as a leap to the stars in quality, but still, there's going to be grumbling until the only generations in the military have only known them, and even then they'll grumble about about the old ones being better.
It is funny how this works, how food becomes the primary consideration in the field. No one is talking about eliminating the Field Kitchens, yet the possibility of not being as dependent upon them while simplifying logistics instantly has everyone up in arms. Care to guess why it took the OKW 30 years to make this change? In OTL it took losing a war and having to rebuild from scratch under the watchful eye of the US Army. At the same time, the Soldaten in the KMI would have committed bloody murder to get the ration packs everyone is complaining about when they were slogging their way through SE Asia during the Pacific War.
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