Complete with the idea of a Kat expy trying to adjust to life as a housewife?
Stupid Luck and Happenstance.
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
After the war Freiherrin Katharine von Mischener would take up residence in her baronial mansion and staff it with girls rescued from the Soviet Army and former members of the SKA and Paras. She'd accompany her photographer husband to hotspots around the world as a cover for her Abwehr duties.
I still think she'd do well running a girls' school teaching manners, riding, running, shooting and general-purpose badassery. Maybe with a flight school on the grounds for fun with parachutes.
&deity, it'd be an absolute scream. "Chancellor, there's a situation..." "What's Kat done now?"
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Shadow Master
Banned
That, or a Katharine von Mitschener = Lara Croft kind of an "I love lucy" show, I would think.
Not quite what I was suggesting.
More like Major Payne, the movie. Basically, Kat's Komedic adventures getting used to the civvie life after time in the Abwehr, SKA, and or Paras.
Kat doesn't have to get used to the Civilian life; the civilian life has to get used to Kat!
Oberst von Mischener, commander of the 1st Regiment of the 1st Foot Guards Division and usually about a company of the SKA, was in charge of the security at the Palace. The 1st Foot were the ones in uniform that people saw, the SKA were the ones in civvies that people didn't see.
The 1st Foot outside the Palace did the noticable changing of the guards, except that both the number of guards in any position and the schedule of changes varied randomly. They all carried rifles with fixed bayonets. Inside the Palace the arrangement was similar, with the guards at parade rest and moving about randomly from post to post. They all carried suppressed SMGs.
Someone moving a rolling table with covered food dishes on it was likely to be an SKA member and at least one of the covered dishes would have a suppressed pistol in it. A significant fraction of the groundskeepers were SKA.
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Suppressed weapons and subsonic ammunition makes target discrimination easier - anybody making a bang is a Bad Guy. Plus it avoids hearing damage when shooting indoors. A suppressed weapon still makes enough noise to alert everyone.
Unless the bad guys are using suppressed weapons and subsonic ammo as well...
Part 29, Chapter 336
Chapter Three Hundred Thirty-Six
15th September 1943
In transit, Russia
When the siege of Sevastopol had finally ended Jack had seen what was left of the garrison as they had emerged. Who knew how many had been buried alive under the wreckage of the city as it came under under constant bombardment or had died in the grinding urban fight that had preceded it. The Russian Black Sea Fleet had essentially ceased to exist during the battle, most of the capital ships pounded into scrap. At least that was over.
Jack could see out the open boxcar that they were crossing a river. Going to some other portion of the front he guessed. His Regiment had been given a couple weeks rest before going back to the fight again. This area looked rural so at least it would probably not be the brutal block by block fighting again.
The train pulled into a large railyard that was a hive of activity and they had a harried noncom yelling at them in German. Jack tried to ask few questions of the man but he clearly didn’t have any interest in discussing anything with an officer from a foreign Regiment. As near as Jack could tell their instructions were to walk east from here.
“Any idea what’s going on here?” Jack asked.
“It’s obvious, Sir” Saighdiúr Sean O’Neal said, “We’re in full view of our betters.”
The Saighdiúr pointed off in one direction. Jack saw a man with the round face and graying mustache wearing the uniform of a German Field Marshal. That was a sign that something big was happening here but Jack couldn’t tell what it was. As they walked out of the railyard Jack could see thousands of Pioneers busy at work with everything from spades and pickaxes all the way up to steam shovels. Much of it was being done under camouflage netting.
Eventually they walked past a line of artillery pieces that were firing at distant targets. That was when they saw the city, their first view of Stalingrad. Jack could hear Sáirint Quinlan cussing under his breath. He was only echoing what Jack was thinking.
Prague, Kingdom of Bohemia
It was all confusing to Kurt. He had just become the third holder of the Commander’s Cross, Order of Saint Wenceslaus and had been publicly declared a hero of the People of Bohemia by the Landtag here. What was so confusing to him was his identity. Just who was he and how did he fit into the greater scheme of things?
He had arrived in Berlin a day ahead of Michael Whittmann to receive the PLM, the Brass had put them in the same hotel and Kurt had spent an awkward meal talking to that stiff. It was obvious why von Wolvogle didn’t like him and why he was a darling of the far-right German nationalists. Yes, Whittmann was probably a capable Panzer Commander but Kurt got the impression that he wasn’t the sort you’d want to watch your back. Whittmann’s astonishment that Kurt had given away several of his kills to rookie PCs and lack of understanding why was proof enough of that.
After Berlin Kurt had been given a tour by Mercedes Benz to look at the newest version of the Panther that was rolling off the assembly lines. Kurt looked over the thick armor and new up-gunned turret and had asked when he was going to get these at the front. The staff at Mercedes had no answer for that but they had answered the rest of his questions. Eventually he had ignored the press and got an opinion of the new Panzer by climbing into it.
Kurt had been able to tell from revised commander’s cupola that many of the problems that he’d had over the prior months had been addressed though he could see that the new 8.8cm gun had made the interior of the turret more cramped then it had been. The forward compartment where the driver and radio operator sat was almost exactly the same but he could tell that the front glacis was thicker. He remembered that the engine was an even more powerful version of the Junkers diesel and the tracks had grown even wider.
After that it was off to Prague.
Puyallup, Washington State, U.S.A.
Nancy saw that a new letter had arrived, she only knew one person who sent letters via airmail. It was the usual sort that she got every month or so from Kat. Her brother had lost interest in the letters once it became clear that not a whole lot of what he found interesting happened. Nancy found it interesting as Kat described being a friend, companion and bodyguard for the German Kaiserin and her children. She told stories about the difficulties that she had with the Crown Prince and his younger brother. One of the photographs included had been of Kat with two little boys on a bench in a parklike setting so Nancy would know who she was talking about. Apparently the two boys liked to play hide and seek with their security detail.
This month Kat said that she had been shipped off to Bavaria to take a protocol and procedures course that was extremely boring. Her dear friend and mentor, Maria Acker had asked her to speak before a group of professional women in Berlin at the start of October. She admitted that she found the prospect of doing that petrifying. It seemed strange to Nancy that a woman who had faced things that would have turned most people into quivering wrecks should fear talking in front of a crowd.
Then Nancy saw the photograph that Kat had included this month. She said that it was a copy of a photograph that had been published recently and was probably going to run in newspapers and magazines. It had been taken by a friend of hers and she was happy to help out his career, besides that it was a good picture. The picture was of her sitting across a table in what looked like a taproom somewhere that was lit by golden sunlight. With Kat’s copper colored hair and slight smile, she looked almost angelic. She was wearing that armored vest again and grey underneath. The SKA “Hellcat” patch was clearly visible and Nancy could see a dark blue enameled medal poking up at the top of the vest. Kat was right, it was a good picture.
15th September 1943
In transit, Russia
When the siege of Sevastopol had finally ended Jack had seen what was left of the garrison as they had emerged. Who knew how many had been buried alive under the wreckage of the city as it came under under constant bombardment or had died in the grinding urban fight that had preceded it. The Russian Black Sea Fleet had essentially ceased to exist during the battle, most of the capital ships pounded into scrap. At least that was over.
Jack could see out the open boxcar that they were crossing a river. Going to some other portion of the front he guessed. His Regiment had been given a couple weeks rest before going back to the fight again. This area looked rural so at least it would probably not be the brutal block by block fighting again.
The train pulled into a large railyard that was a hive of activity and they had a harried noncom yelling at them in German. Jack tried to ask few questions of the man but he clearly didn’t have any interest in discussing anything with an officer from a foreign Regiment. As near as Jack could tell their instructions were to walk east from here.
“Any idea what’s going on here?” Jack asked.
“It’s obvious, Sir” Saighdiúr Sean O’Neal said, “We’re in full view of our betters.”
The Saighdiúr pointed off in one direction. Jack saw a man with the round face and graying mustache wearing the uniform of a German Field Marshal. That was a sign that something big was happening here but Jack couldn’t tell what it was. As they walked out of the railyard Jack could see thousands of Pioneers busy at work with everything from spades and pickaxes all the way up to steam shovels. Much of it was being done under camouflage netting.
Eventually they walked past a line of artillery pieces that were firing at distant targets. That was when they saw the city, their first view of Stalingrad. Jack could hear Sáirint Quinlan cussing under his breath. He was only echoing what Jack was thinking.
Prague, Kingdom of Bohemia
It was all confusing to Kurt. He had just become the third holder of the Commander’s Cross, Order of Saint Wenceslaus and had been publicly declared a hero of the People of Bohemia by the Landtag here. What was so confusing to him was his identity. Just who was he and how did he fit into the greater scheme of things?
He had arrived in Berlin a day ahead of Michael Whittmann to receive the PLM, the Brass had put them in the same hotel and Kurt had spent an awkward meal talking to that stiff. It was obvious why von Wolvogle didn’t like him and why he was a darling of the far-right German nationalists. Yes, Whittmann was probably a capable Panzer Commander but Kurt got the impression that he wasn’t the sort you’d want to watch your back. Whittmann’s astonishment that Kurt had given away several of his kills to rookie PCs and lack of understanding why was proof enough of that.
After Berlin Kurt had been given a tour by Mercedes Benz to look at the newest version of the Panther that was rolling off the assembly lines. Kurt looked over the thick armor and new up-gunned turret and had asked when he was going to get these at the front. The staff at Mercedes had no answer for that but they had answered the rest of his questions. Eventually he had ignored the press and got an opinion of the new Panzer by climbing into it.
Kurt had been able to tell from revised commander’s cupola that many of the problems that he’d had over the prior months had been addressed though he could see that the new 8.8cm gun had made the interior of the turret more cramped then it had been. The forward compartment where the driver and radio operator sat was almost exactly the same but he could tell that the front glacis was thicker. He remembered that the engine was an even more powerful version of the Junkers diesel and the tracks had grown even wider.
After that it was off to Prague.
Puyallup, Washington State, U.S.A.
Nancy saw that a new letter had arrived, she only knew one person who sent letters via airmail. It was the usual sort that she got every month or so from Kat. Her brother had lost interest in the letters once it became clear that not a whole lot of what he found interesting happened. Nancy found it interesting as Kat described being a friend, companion and bodyguard for the German Kaiserin and her children. She told stories about the difficulties that she had with the Crown Prince and his younger brother. One of the photographs included had been of Kat with two little boys on a bench in a parklike setting so Nancy would know who she was talking about. Apparently the two boys liked to play hide and seek with their security detail.
This month Kat said that she had been shipped off to Bavaria to take a protocol and procedures course that was extremely boring. Her dear friend and mentor, Maria Acker had asked her to speak before a group of professional women in Berlin at the start of October. She admitted that she found the prospect of doing that petrifying. It seemed strange to Nancy that a woman who had faced things that would have turned most people into quivering wrecks should fear talking in front of a crowd.
Then Nancy saw the photograph that Kat had included this month. She said that it was a copy of a photograph that had been published recently and was probably going to run in newspapers and magazines. It had been taken by a friend of hers and she was happy to help out his career, besides that it was a good picture. The picture was of her sitting across a table in what looked like a taproom somewhere that was lit by golden sunlight. With Kat’s copper colored hair and slight smile, she looked almost angelic. She was wearing that armored vest again and grey underneath. The SKA “Hellcat” patch was clearly visible and Nancy could see a dark blue enameled medal poking up at the top of the vest. Kat was right, it was a good picture.
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. . .Wolvolge its going to pull something like Operation Fortitude here, no? To build defensive lines and make the Russians believe that a far bigger army its going to siege Stalingrad, when he just leaves the exact troops to keep the siege and guns firing, while he prepares to encircle, imprison, and finally bypass the city and its number of veteran troops, leaving the offset Soviets scrambling to throw rookie troops and everything else to attempt to stop him in his charge into Moscow. . .
Methinks that this its going to be the finest hour of epic bullshitting from Mr Pujol.
So the sender of the care parcel has become a pen pal. Someone on the far side of the world who has absolutely no connection to Kat's daily life, acquaintances or career therefore someone she can open up to. Probably very good for her mental health. And not coincidentally a good way to do a bit of an info dump without hitting the reader over the head with it.
Yep, the ship has sailed. She's imitating Emil unconsciously. Doug is about to become a LEGEND in the journalism community for getting an incredible photograph in COLOR.
Also, in 50 years, some family in Washington is going to discover a museum-grade archive worth gobtons of money in their attic of one of the most remarkable people from the Century.
More good stuff. Stalingrad--a name that will forever be a name to conjure with.
And probably find out on Antiques Roadshow. (Fun series; I'm sure that there will be an equivalent!)
And probably find out on Antiques Roadshow. (Fun series; I'm sure that there will be an equivalent!)
Nope; more like
The Nancy Jensen Archive provides an insight into one of Germany's most enigmatic and private women of the last half-century. Letters from Katherine von Mischner to Miss Jensen started when von Mischner thanked the Jensen family for a morale-boosting package to 'any German soldier.' Their correspondence throughout von Mischner's war career was published as "My friend Kat" (University of Washington Press, 1952.)
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Fixed. Ever have a spelling senior moment? You know, you type something that just looks wrong and the spill chucker insists it's right then later you type something else that you're just sure is right and the spill chucker disagrees.
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