Ok, so here is a revamped version, with better research thanks to Rubicon and Von Adler especially, with better dates and more thought out. Hopefully this one works out better!
Oh, as an FYI, some of the upcoming text is based of altered original text, while some segments are brand new. I'd suggest skimming at least through the older things and definitely read the new updates, which should all be clustered at the end.
So, with out further ado, enjoy!
Oh, as an FYI, some of the upcoming text is based of altered original text, while some segments are brand new. I'd suggest skimming at least through the older things and definitely read the new updates, which should all be clustered at the end.
So, with out further ado, enjoy!
******
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]December 25th, 1939[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Silent night, holy night, all is well, all is right.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]” The record crackled as the gramophone spun, off in a corner in the dining room of Highfield Park, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain's private estate. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]If only that was the case[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought the beleaguered leader. The papers reported nothing of note happening, but that didn’t mean the government did not have issues to deal with. The French had been hounding him about some preposterous plans for Scandinavia and Baku. It seems their leaders did not grasp that pulling the Soviets into the war was the last thing they needed. However, it's not like the Soviets weren't asking for it. German-Soviet trade kept the Wehrmacht running its blitzkrieg across Europe. Also, the partition of Poland hadn't done them any favors. Add in the invasion of Finland and it is no surprise so many were calling for the Soviet's blood as well. However, that's not what this night was all about. It was about being able to spend some time with his family. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It is so nice to be home for a change. 10 Downing may be nice, but it just doesn’t have the charm of home.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Anne, his wife, smiled. “We are all glad to be back.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The white door behind them opened. Out walked three servants, carrying plates filled with warm food. On one large plate was a roasted pheasant, browned to perfection. Neville's mouth watered at the sight of it. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I think what I miss most is the cooking at home” said Neville as he looked at the family's cook, “Thank you very much Cecilia.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The short, plump lady blushed and curtsied before heading back into the kitchen. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Now, let's eat!” said the Prime Minister. He took a large carving knife and cut a piece for his wife and each of his children. Then, when satisfied, he cut himself a piece. Taking a bite, he smiled. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yum! She certainly knows how to cook!” he said. He cut himself another piece, and ate it. A rather pink piece. [/FONT]
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[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Headline of the The Times, December 30th, 1939[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain resigned today from office due to health reasons. After a recent bout with salmonella, the Prime Minister complained of incessant bowel pain. A closer examination by doctor's showed Mr. Chamberlain to have a malignant bowel tumor. The exact prognosis is unknown, but after considering all options, Mr. Chamberlain resigned as Prime Minister. In a statement issued by the Mr. Chamberlain today, he is quoted as saying “in normal circumstances I would try and lead the country even with my ailment. However, in this case, the country needs a leader unencumbered by such a condition. I therefore tender my resignation.” In response, First Lord of Admiralty Winston Churchill was appointed Prime Minister by the King. Most agree this is due to Mr. Churchill's ability to hold influence with all parties, and his experience in governing. The new Prime Minister is due to make his first speech to the nation on New Year's Day. [/FONT]
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[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]December 29th, 1939[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]This should have been over by now!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]An infuriated Joseph Stalin slammed onto the battle map splayed out onto the table in the main war room of his personal dacha at Kuntsevo. Vyacheslav Molotov, Soviet Foreign Minister, stood ram-rod straight in front of the raving leader of the Soviet Union. Also taking the verbal beating was Soviet Minister of Defense and, incidentally, commander of all Soviet forces involved in the invasion of Finland, Kliment Voroshilov. Stalin's face was red with anger as he ranted further. It was best to not try and stop him once he went into these moods. As a man, Stalin stood only 5' 5”, far from the imposing figure that the public was shown on the posters that could be seen plastered everywhere. “[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Like Napoleon”,[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Molotov. He wanted to smirk badly, but letting that sort of facial expression through could be deadly. In Stalin's Russia, anything, even looking at the Father of Nations in a weird way, could get you in the back of a Black Raven heading for some unmarked ditch deep in the endless woods of Russia. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Stalin stared Voroshilov down. “We give you control of one of the most powerful armies on the planet, and you can't even crush Finland? Even if those defenses were as strong as the Maginot line, the might of the people would push it aside! Except instead, due to your incompetence, we have a disaster on our hands. You have shamed the glorious people's republic!” The Field Marshall stood, silent. Not like that would-[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The only reason we have had such failures is because of your killing of all my officers!” shouted Voroshilov at Stalin. “Out troops lack leaders, simply because of your paranoia! YOU are to blame for our failures!” Stain looked dumbfounded at Voroshilov. It was not often someone stood up to Stalin's madness, and even less often they got away with it. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The dictator stared down his commander. Not a word was said. Suddenly the door opened behind them. A timid servant dressed in a pristine white uniform stuck his head in. “Premier Stalin, dinner is prepared for you.” Then the servant opened the door fully to let the three men pass through. Stalin headed for the door. Without looking at Voroshilov, he started to speak. “I want you to use whatever means necessary to bring Finland to the negotiating tables. If they still do not choose to negotiate, then mark my words, you will pay for it.”[/FONT]
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[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Excerpt from the book [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]An Icy Hell: The Winter War[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] historian Dennis Finn. (1992) [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]...Following a meeting at Stalin's Kuntsevo Dacha on December 29th by most of the Soviet leadership, Field Marshall Voroshilov was given a ultimatum to end the war quickly on the Soviet's terms or be relieved. The task was next to impossible. Voroshilov's men lacked winter gear, making them extremely vulnerable to the harsh realities of a Finnish winter. Also, the ambushes of the Finnish ski troops on Soviet advances were hard to combat, both from the lack of skilled and experienced officers needed to wage such a low level war, and due also to the Soviet's having little knowledge of the terrain. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Out of desperation, Voroshilov turned to aerial warfare. He ordered air raids on Helsinki and on other Finnish cities. Aerial bombardment had been largely ineffective in the early days of the war, but Voroshilov was ready to try anything to bring the Finnish government to the table. Starting on New Years Eve, 1939, a massive wave of 120 Soviet bombers, mostly TB-3's and Tupolev SB's attacked Helsinki while smaller raids hit the towns of Oulu, Tampere, and Turku. The Finns put up a stubborn but fruitless fight against the raids. They lacked the necessary guns, ammo, and planes to put a real dent in the attacking bomber formations. For five straight days, from December 31st, 1939 to January 4th, 1940, Soviet bombers relentlessly pounded Helsinki and the other cities. All told, the raids killed roughly 500 people, with many more dying from exposure to the bitter cold after having their homes destroyed by “Molotov’s Breadbaskets”. The campaign was unsuccessful in its goal, and only further galvanized the general public in Western nations against the Soviet Union, as evidenced by this quote from newly appointed British Prime Minister Winston Churchill's famous “New Year's speech”, said just as news of the resumption of bombings broke:[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]To the British people: I can only offer you my tears, sweat, blood, and toil. To all who oppose tyranny and wickedness in this world: We offer you our support, both in material and in spirit, so as to make this word safe for democracy. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]In the end, the bombings were useless. Finnish resolve held, and on January 5th, 1940, Voroshilov was relieved of command, to be replaced by General Semyon Timoshenko. Voroshilov, an ally of the Stalin from the beginning, the signer of multiple death warrants for many a purged officer, would soon have the tables turned on him. When the Winter War ended up dragging the Soviet Union into the Great European War, Stalin's blame fell solely on Voroshilov for not ending the Winter War fast enough. On the night of March 23rd, 1940, a NKVD car pulled up to his home. He was torn away from his family, taken to an unmarked grave and shot, like many before him. His family was killed likewise three days later. Voroshilov was not afforded a fake trial like so many of his fellow officers he had betrayed during the purge. He simply received a bullet in the back of his head, courtesy of Stalin himself. The Premier had personally ordered his 'liquidation' two days earlier." [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Excerpt from the book [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Operation Javelin and Churchill's Gamble[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] by historian Calvin Bearfield. (2009)
“...Following Prime Minister Chamberlain's resignation, due to the discovery of his terminal bowel cancer which he chose to keep secret, the “old bulldog” Winston Churchill took the helm of the United Kingdom. As a statesmen, he was known for his appeal to the masses and his ability to inspire those behind him. However, much like his counterpart in Nazi Germany, Churchill had a propensity to defend ideas he supported with the stubbornness of an mule, both good and bad. As the First Lord of Admiralty during the early months of the war, he knew of the French staff's support for an intervention into Scandinavia, and of striking a blow against the Soviet Union in the form of a air raid on Baku. Not surprisingly, Churchill supported the plan.
After his appointment to the spot of Prime Minister, Churchill asked for a meeting of the Allied Supreme War Council on an earlier date, due to his desire for action. On January 12th, 1940, the council met in Paris to decide upon new priorities. Representing the United Kingdom were Prime Minister Winston Churchill, Chief of the Imperial General Staff General Edmund Ironside, Foreign Minister Lord Halifax, and the Permanent Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan. Representing France were Prime Minister of France Édouard Daladier, General Maurice Gamelin, Commander and Chief of the French Navy Admiral François Darlan, Minister of Munitions Raoul Dautry, and Jean Monnet, the Chairman of the Franco-British Economic Co-ordination Committee. Discussion turned quickly to Scandinavia. The French staff had been the original supporters of the plan, however under Prime Minister Chamberlain's tenure, their British counterparts had politely rejected this course of action. At the January 12th meeting, the British delegation led by Churchill and Ironside jumped into the discussion with gusto. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Early drafts of the plan advocated for landings in Petsamo in northern Finland. However, a landing at Petsamo would make any move towards the Swedish iron mines a very blatant act of aggression. Instead, the plan, as developed by General Ironside, would be a landing at Narvik in Northern Norway. From there, a combined Allied force could use the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Malmbanan [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]as a direct path to the Swedish iron mines at Kiruna and Malmberget. They could be quickly occupied, and then an expeditionary force could move to aid the beleaguered Fins. Thus, in one fell swoop, Finland could be reinforced and the Germans would lose a valuable source of ore. This plan was also less then ideal due to the awful winter conditions of Scandinavia for transport. It would make any attempt require no hostility from both Sweden and Norway as well. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Many (mostly British) officials such as Lord Halifax and Permanent Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs Cadogan were strongly aligned against the intervention, with Cadogan simply stating “It is a silly scheme devised by men who do not realize the real-world consequences started with the simple movement of a flag across a map.” However, with the rest of the staff, the plot was garnering support. The general public clamored for action as the “Bore War” or “Phoney War”, as the press had dubbed the lengthy inaction, continued on. At the same time, the Soviet invasion of Finland had raised the public's ire while the recent “New Year's Bombings” had only incensed the West's populace even more. Meanwhile, the Soviets had shown themselves to be a rather incompetent enemy so far, with the plucky Finnish ski troopers beating off the technologically superior Red Army, with its large mechanized formations, quite easily. It logically followed to the Allied leadership that if Finland could hold off the Soviets by themselves, with Allied support the war could turn into an easy rout. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Strategically, the plan seemed sound as well. With the move, Germany would lose a large percentage (by Allied estimates) of its ore supply. The occupation could be followed by an air raid on Baku, the Soviet's, and by extension the German's, main source of crude oil, codenamed “Operation Pike”. With both of these attacks, it seemed the Nazi war machine could be brought to a standstill. To those who objected to bringing the Soviet Union into the war, two main responses were given. Firstly, following the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact and other such treaties and trade agreements between the powers, the Western Allies began to view Germany and the Soviet Union as two peas in a totalitarian pod. The news of the February 4th trade agreement, which more quadrupled the trade between the two nations along with allowing German access to the Northern Sea Route only confirmed these suspicions to the Allied powers. Secondly, the Western Allies doubted the Soviets military strength. While the Soviets would enter the war, they lacked the power projection, at least in the Allies' mind, to cause harm to the West. Also, as mentioned earlier, the Allies thought lowly of the Red Army following its failure to crush Finland quickly. Finally, it was not believed that the Soviets and Nazis would be willing or able to launch a joint offensive into Europe until the Scandinavian campaign was resolved, which Allied officials believed could last long enough for France and the UK to have mobilized to the point where the war would be an even fight. These thoughts proved troublesome for any of R4's detractors to disprove. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Finally, it should be noted how the plan would achieve a much vaunted goal of the French Military Staff. Many of its members were veterans of the Great War, and remembered the harm inflicted on its land and people when front line was 75 miles from Paris. To them, it was about time that the grim specter of war visited a new land. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]With all of this in mind, the decision was made on January 12th to go forward with Plan R4, or upon further planning, Operation Javelin, along with Operation Pike. While much work was needed, many contingencies need to be accounted for (how the Nordic nations would react was a large question mark), and many large changes were to come, the die had been cast. The war was about to take a drastic turn, one that would have far reaching consequences for the Allies." [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]January 20th, 1940[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Too many, white was a pure color. One of innocence; of good. However, to Soviet forces around the Kollaa River, it was a color that only brought terror. For hiding somewhere in the endless white blanket that lay over the cold ground was the White Death.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Simo[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Häyhä looked down the iron sights of his Mosin-Nagant rifle. Having a telescopic scope would only give an enemy counter sniper a way to find him. With his white camouflage and limited equipment, Simo was almost impossible to find. Which was not good for the Soviet patrol he had sighted.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The five men crept slowly through the thick underbrush. The Red Army had run into much trouble trying to move through the rough terrain of Ladoga Karelia. All the major roads had Finnish blocking forces on them, and tanks where useless in the dense words. Any attempt by foot meanwhile...[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Simo squinted further. The iron site quickly lined up with the soldier taking up the rear. He took a deep breath.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The rifle shot echoed through the white forest. The red soldier dropped like a rock. A perfect head shot. Simo worked the bolt smoothly as the patrol quickly looked around for any signs of the sniper. Agitated Russian drifted towards Simo's ears, but he didn’t care to listen. He raised his rifle again.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Another man down. Now three extremely agitated Reds stood. They quickly began to run back form whence they came, making a large ruckus. A few birds, disturbed by the noise, flew out from their perch. As a boy, Simo's game had been simple birds. Now he was after a bigger prize. One soldier tripped over a log. He disappeared from sit only to quickly try and scramble back up. Stupid. His only chance would have been to try and wait out Simo. Not likely. He had patience, and anyway it would be only a matter of time before some artillery came down on this position. Not like it mattered now. The White Death held his breath again.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]. The man fell to the ground once again, for good. The two remaining men were getting away faster then Simo had thought. He only had time to take out one. He quickly aimed and fired again.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The fourth man fell as the fifth fled fast, back to his unit or where ever he had come from. Now the sniper would have to hurray. Once he made it back, an artillery strike was a matter of when, not if. Ever since New Year's, when the Soviet's had begun to realized how many of their men were being picked of Simo's crack shot, they had begun increasing reckless and desperate attempts to kill him. No matter. Simo silently began to crawl away to a distance he thought would be safe enough by his judgement.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The White Death crawled fifty yards back towards friendly lines. He suddenly felt like he had lost a clip when a rifle report filled the air. Into the snow just a foot ahead of him appeared a hole in the snow. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Apparently I have a friend [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]thought Simo. He quickly jumped up and threw himself behind a large old tree trunk as another bullet wizzed by. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Amateur. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Trying to find the other sniper would be hard. He would just need to locate the sniper.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He quickly pulled out a small mirror he kept for situations like these. Simo grabbed the mirror by its long handle and slowly pushed it out from behind the cover. He just needed to find the small glint of the glass scope.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Suddenly, from behind a large Pine tree came the breath flicker of light. Exactly what he needed. Simo slid agonizingly slow out from his hiding spot. He put some snow in his mouth so that his breath wouldn’t give away his location. In what felt like an hour he was finally repositioned. With great care Simo lined up his shot. He took a breath.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The bullet flew true, and hit the opposing sniper in the neck. He fell over, garaging blood. Satisfied that the coast was clear, the White Death stood for all to see and walked back towards friendly lines. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]20 minutes later, he was among his own. An officer came up to him, a great big smile upon his face. “Ahhh! You return! How was the day's hunt?”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Just the usual” replied the sniper. He walked to his tent, leaned his rifle on a post and crawled inside. [/FONT]
Colour Sergeant Lewis Morgan, Royal Marines, stopped to catch his breath. He watched as his breath turned to a icy fog. A cold, bitting wind blew it his face laden with large snowflakes. The sergeant quickly composed himself and looked as the 30 enlisted men behind him struggled up the side of Wideford Hill. One could Just barely make out the dark shapes of the Royal Navy anchored at Scapa Flow through the white and grey haze of the storm. Somewhere among those shapes was the HMS Warspite, the ship from where these marines came from.
“Come on you bums! This isn't some fun run! Now get yer arses up here on the double!” The line of men, all dressed in identical dark blue sweatpants and red sweaters for winter PT, where just as out of breath as Sergeant Morgan. Serving on board one of the capital ships of Her Majesty's battlefleet does not give one many opportunities to exercise. Many of the men seemed ready to barf up their lunch in fact, mostly the war recruits who had arrived around November. Life aboard a capital ship made it hard for the marines to get their conditioning in, and if you wanted to kill Huns you needed to be in shape.
“Ok you bloody prats, let's get this show on the road. Hope you all had enough rest, cause it is a long way back as well.” With that Morgan took of down the hill from whence they came. The marines, reluctantly, began to follow.
About 45 minutes later, the tired marines arrived back at small dock where the launch had discharged them. “Ok ladies, take a breather. Consider today's exercises finished. I expect better next time.” The marines let out a tired cheer and began to talk amongst themselves as they idled on the dock. Morgan stood, looking out over the icy water. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Where's that launch[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] he thought to himself. While he didn't exactly enjoy the idle life on a ship, he did at least want to get back to the warmth of the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Warspite.
[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]
After a short wait, the launch arrived at the jetty. The marines quickly boarded and took a seat. As the ship pulled away at a leisurely pace towards the capital ships, the Petty Officer on board the launch walked back to Sergeant Morgan. “Order's from the top; you and your marines are to gather your belongings and then report back to us. It seems you blokes are needed elsewhere.”
[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Well that is a surprise. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]“Roger sir,” said Morgan back to the Petty officer, who then worked his way back to his seat towards the bow. Morgan stood up and faced his men. He cleared his throat, which they could even hear over the noise of the engine behind them. Morgan's ability to clear is throat was rather well known throughout the ship. If you wanted to get someone's attention, he could assist.
“It seems we are needed elsewhere marines, so when we get back to the ship, you all need to back your sacks and get back to this launch on the double.” The marines groaned at the news. “Yes, yes, I know, upsetting, but at least this means we might meet some Nazi's soon enough.” The men have a cheer as the launch pulled up to the mighty [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Warspite.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] She might be an old grey lady but she could still dish out the punishment. The men quickly scampered up the gangway laid out for them and ran to their bunks. Morgan followed.
A half-hour later, the marines queued up to board the launch, carrying their knapsacks on their shoulders. The snow had mostly subsided, with only a few snowflakes tumbling down towards the earth. However, the metal stairs laid out from the ship's deck to the launch was slick from the snow. The marines had to take care not to slip and fall into the icy water of Scapa Flow. It wouldn't kill them, but it would make them the laughing stock of the platoon for a week or so, a fate almost as bad as death.
The marines quickly loaded into the launch, and after a few minutes were back at the jetty. They found two Bedford trucks waiting for them, which they boarded. Moving slowly, the trucks brought the marines to a makeshift camp set up just north of Kirkwall. The men quickly dismounted and walked into the camp. A short, red faced Royal Marine Captain directed the men some tents that had been propped up for them to drop of their knapsacks, before they went to a larger tent. After another 5 minutes of the re ordering and arranging, the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Warspite[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]'s marines got into a line of marines all from other ships. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hurray up and wait[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Morgan. Finally, just as the snow picked up again, the cold, tired marines reached the inside of the tent. Many quartermasters stood near crates filled with white clothing. Morgan walked up to one. “Size?” sad the quartermaster in a very dull tone.
“15 and a half,” said Morgan. The quartermaster shoved a shirt towards him. He grabbed it. It was the normal combat shirt worn by the marines except in a wintery color, meant for camouflage in snow. He continued down the line, with each equally dry quartermaster giving him a new set of clothes. As the platoon settled down outside the tent, they began to chat amongst themselves. Getting winter gear certainly meant something was going on, but what exactly was hard to tell. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I guess that is best left to men up top. I'm sure they know what they are doing. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Then Morgan laughed to himself. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Who am I kidding? [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] It was a cold and gusty afternoon in New York City, as the streets teemed with people hustling and bustling through their daily lives. However, Theodore Seuss Geisel found that he rather enjoyed this time of day for pleasure. With a steady income from his “Flit” advertisements and some extra cash from his children's books, his days were rather open. So, as women wrapped tight in their fur coats rushed to get groceries, or men in long trench coats holding fedoras or baker boy caps tight to there head with a free hand rushed to and fro, Seuss decided he wanted to catch the Saturday matinee with his lovely wife Helen. Seuss looked over at his wife, her face pressed into her warm coat against the bitting wind. After passing multiple crying newsboys on the street corner of 7[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]th[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] and 34[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]th[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] and a establishment known as “Joe's Diner”, the cinema's broad entrance opened up onto the street. Seuss walked up to the ticket counter and slapped two dimes down for the ticket man. He handed Seuss his tickets, and the two walked inside.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] As the door swung open, Seuss was greeted by the smell of the warm popcorn the theaters always tried to peddle. He normally didn't by it. Helen on the other hand...[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “I'll be right back dear!” she said as she reached into her small purse and pulled out a nickle. She walked over and bought herself one of the small red and white striped bags filled with the salty treat and then meet back with her husband. The two then walked into the theater and took a seat in the back by the door. Just then the whirling of the projector started as the lights turned down. Seuss could make out the wispy stream from the projector as the film started. Seuss placed his hat on his lap and Helen moved a little closer to him. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The matinee opened in the familiar way. The music swelled as the screen was filled with the image of a tiny toy airplane circling the spinning globe. Then the globe disappeared, and was replaced by large words. Soon the announcer began to speak, reading of what was on the screen; “Universal Newsreels presents, the news of the week!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The footage quickly changed to that of the frozen fighting in Finland. “In Finland, the Winter War rages on as Red troops finally began to penetrate the defenses of the Finnish Marshal Mannerheim!” The footage changed to a shot of Mannerheim pointing on a large table map as the music swelled for the second time. Then the shot changed to that of Soviet tanks, rubling through the snow, as did the sound effects to match. “Using tanks and planes, the Reds have been slowly grinding their way through. However, the brave warriors from the north continue to fight on!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Then footage switched to that of an exploding ship, while the announcer began to describe why. “Meanwhile, the battle for the Atlantic rages on, as Nazi U-boats continue to prey on the shipping of the United Kingdom and her commonwealths! British Prime Minister Winston Churchill however, remains defiant of the U-boat threat!” The film cuts to Churchill speaking in front of parliament. His baritone filled the theater. Even Seuss received chills from his voice. “No matter how many ships the U-boats send to the bottom, we will build more! We will build better ships, build more supplies, and hold on, for they can sink our ships, but they can not sink our resolve!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Finally the footage shifted to something no war related, as scenes of snow covered fields were shown. “Finally, here in the USA, the east coast was blanketed in a layer of snow this week, delaying trains and in general causing problems.” The footage then cut to some young kids playing in a snow bank. “Except for these young lads here. Now have fun won't you?” The kids now appeared in a line, waving at the camera, before the footage cut to the boys having a snowball fight. “Oh kids!” said the announcer as the music swelled to its finally. Over the final note, the screen was again dominated by the turning globe with the small plane as the the announcer's voice boomed “And this was Universal Newsreels news of the week!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] After the news, a quick cartoon from Metro-Goldwyn Mayer played of a cat and a mouse's fight over their house. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Now maybe the cat should have a hat[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Seuss wistfully. He and Helen got a good laugh out of the cat trying to balance all of the plates the mouse had knocked over. After the cartoon and a few more commercials, the main film played; Pinocchio, from the Disney company. It was another animated story of a wooden puppet who wants to be real boy, and how is he led astray by his evil habits before sacrificing himself for his father. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]My books make more sense then this, and could have better messages![/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Seuss with a grin. Afterwards the lights came up and the couple stood up. Seuss stretched his arms up. “One thing I never get used to is sitting still for so long!” said Seuss. Helen giggled at him. Then the two walked out of the theater and through the cinema lobby. “Certainly was a lovely time,” said Helen, “lets you forget the the troubles in the world for a while.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] As the Geisel's left the theater, the cold blast of air welcomed them back to reality. The newsboys, still yelling, announcing the latest headlines from the war in Europe and China. The two walked back towards there cozy apartment as the snow picked up. Seuss reached down and took his wife's hand. They looked towards each other and smiled. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Few roads ran through the Kollaa region of Finland, due to it's remoteness and the rough terrain. Filled with rivers, trees, and lakes, it did not seem like an area that would need such infrastructure. This issue was certainly causing the Red army some trouble. They had been held in place by the 12th Division for the entire span of the Winter War. Even now, in March, as the mighty Mannerheim line was being breached by the Soviets, Kollaa still had not fallen. As Lieutenant Juutilainen had said, Kollaa will hold unless the orders are to run.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Simo Häyhä relaxed , his rifle leaned against a nearby tree, his Suomi SMG on his back, as did the other 22 men hiding in the snow and underbrush next to the small road, just at the end of a curve in the path. Just because there were few roads didn’t mean the Russians wouldn't try and use them. The men were what was left of the 1st company of the 2nd Battalion of the 12th Division. Holding Kollaa had come at a cost, a dear cost to the men on the 12th, but they had made the Russians pay even more for every inch of land they conquered. The men had managed to requisition a Maxim gun and some ammo for it, along with some extra anti-tank rifle rounds and a few satchel charges. They were well prepared for any sort of attack. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Crouched in the snow next to Simo were three other men, Gustav, Eero, and Valto. As a sniper, Simo generally worked alone. However, as he was about to go out on a patrol he meet up with these three who were busy collecting ammo, and they had asked if he would like to join them for a ambush or two. Simo found himself hard pressed to say no. The three seemed to be good friends, as they could chat the day away. Now they were, like most men their age, talking about girls. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “Ehh, that is nothing! In Leppyalampi there is a girl, I swear, her tits are as big as your head!” said Eero.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “Let me guess, you slept with her as well?” said Valto as he laughed.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Gustav then chimed in. “Bullshit he slept with her! You couldn't even sleep with a whore! She'd take one look at ya and tell you you owe her triple!” The three burst into laughter. Oh to be 20 again thought Simo. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Suddenly, a distant rumbling was heard. Simo perked up. He would recognize the sound of a Soviet tank anywhere. He quickly motioned for the three to get down. They grabbed their rifles and worked their way into the snow. The rest of the company followed. The sound continued to grow louder as the tank crawled closer. It was a much deeper, heavier soundthen usual, not the normal sound of one of their Vickers rip-offs or the thin skinned BT's. This can't be good.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Suddenly, from around the turn came a monstrous tank, an officer in a black uniform standing arrogantly out of the pulpit, flanked by at least 30 men. The tank had to be about 7 meters long and had huge treads. A turret rested nicely on top, with a gun that almost seemed too small for the tank. Looks like the Reds weren't messing around. Simo looked across the way at the commander, a young, field-promoted Lieutenant. He gave a thumbs up. They were going to engage, and he had the first shot. This wasn't a hard choice. Simo sighted his rifle on the tank officer riding around like he owned the land. Now to just weight for the right moment...[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] CRACK! Simo fired, the familiar kick hitting his shoulder. The tank commander suddenly slumped down as the rifle shot echoed. The rest of the company then opened fire, the individual rifle shots and the constant tear of the maxim filling the air. Most of the Soviets quickly dropped dead as the hail of fire tore into them, but some managed to survive, firing back wildly into the woods. They wouldn't last however within the first 15 seconds most of the infantry was finished. A large tank was still left however.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] As soon as the Maxim had opened up, the turret began turning towards its position. The brave crew continued firing until the turret had stopped right on them. Then the sounds of yelling filled as the men ran from the gun. KA-THOOM! The sharp sound of the gun firing mixed with the dull thump of the shell exploded, sending shrapnel, dirt, and body parts raining over the other side of the road. However, Simo had little time to watch, as a machine gun located on the back of the tank's turret made itself known. The gun fired into the underbrush, tearing into two unlucky men. The anti-tank rifle, on Simo's side of the road, fired, its loud report filling Simo's ears. However, the 20mm round bounced off the tanks heavy armor, even at such extreme range. The turret turned a few degrees and the backwards facing MG opened up. Another man down.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Suddenly, Eero jumped from his hiding spot, a satchel charge in hand. He pushed through the brush and dived onto the road, almost face planting into the frozen mud. He then slapped the charge onto the tanks treads and activated the charge. As Eero tried to leap back into cover, the machine gun caught him in the back. He feel into the bushes, dead. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “NO!” screamed Gustav and Valto. Valto went to get up, but Simo placed a hand on his chest to stop him. The charge blew, ruining the tanks tracks. It was now immobilized. They would be going nowhere. The Finns waited for the top to pop open and a white flag to appear. Instead, the turret began to whirl, as it spun, slowly. Towards Simo. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “GET OUT OF THE WAY!” he yelled as Simo, Valto, Gustav, and two other men jumped to their feet and ran out of the way. One man slipped as he tried to stand, falling back down. He managed to croak out “Help!” before the tank fired. There was nothing left of him afterwards. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “Fine,” said Simo, “I guess we have to do this the hard way. He placed his sniper rifle against a tree and took his Suomi SMG from his back. “You three, follow me!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The four men burst from the woods onto the road and ran towards the rear of the tank. The turret tried to turn fast enough, but there was not enough time. The four reached the back of the tank. Simo quickly began to try and climb onto the back, but the metal was very slick. “Help me up!” he yelled at the others. They pushed him on top of the tank. By now the turret had turned back to normal, the machine gun facing him. “Shit!” he screamed as he jumped right off the tank he had struggled to get onto as the machine gun let worth a burst that went harmlessly into the dirt behind the tank. “Go to the other side!” Simo yelled at the three other men. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The three moved to the side with the blown of tracks. The turret began to turn again so that the MG would face the three. Simo but his gun on his back. As soon as the main gun was above Simo though, he jumped up and grabbed onto it. From there he climbed onto the top of the tank. The crew must have heard the sound of his boots on the body, for the hatch swung open, and a Soviet in the black overalls of a tank crewmen raised his pistol up. Simo cut him down with a burst. Then he yelled for Gustav to throw him another Satchel charge. He did, and Simo grabbed it, activate it, threw it into the tank, shut the hatch and slide of the side of the tank. Muffled screams could be heard before a dull thump ended them. Simo walked over to the other men. “And THAT gentleman is how you take out a tank!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Excerpt from the book [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A Game of Shadows: Spying in the Great European War[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] (1999).[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “...In 1939, as war had approached, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, head of the German Abwehr, was pressured by Hitler to fill the UK with spies so that the Nazi's would have up to date information on British moves. However, these spies, sent hurriedly, were very easy to find. By February of 1940, at least a quarter of the Abwehr spies in the UK had been captured or were close to a fate, and by the end of the way, save for two or three agents, the Abwehr has ceased to exist as an effective spying force in England. The captured agents were given a choice; they could continue to be free and send false information to the Germans, or could be jailed and tried as spies. Most choice the first choice. The spies would play a key role in one of the biggest, and most controversial, false flag operations of the war. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Following Prime Minister Churchill's taking of office, plans had be constructed for a intervention in Scandinavia, along with a bombing attack on the Soviet oil facilities in Baku, as the Soviet Union began to be seen as more and more as an pseudo-Axis power. The original casus belli for the operation was supposed to be to support the Finns in the Winter War. However, following the launching of a new offensive in Finland on January 29th by the Soviets, and the flat out refusal by the Swedes for transit rights. By the Swedes refusing transits rights, any force would need to face the formidable Swedish army on its home territory in the Scandinavian winter; not a sunny prospect for the army units involved. This would mean the delaying of any reinforcements by weeks, if not months, to Finland, who had little time left, thus rendering moot the stated goal of the operation. Finally, the German reaction would certainly be one of supporting the Nordic nations against the Allied invasion, making the invasion even harder. Thus, the original plan was scrapped. Operation Pike continued unabated, but it seemed that the doves in the Foreign Ministry might have won out against Churchill and the French Chiefs of Staff. It was then however, that an ingenious, though sinister, plan was hatched by numerous Naval Intelligence personnel, including one Mr. Fleming.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The main problem the Allies were having was creating a justification, besides bald-faced aggression, for the invasion. The plan hatched by the men in the Naval Intelligence Directory was to use the many compromised Abwehr agents to spread false information to the Germans regarding negotiations between Sweden and the UK, to induce an invasion by the Germans to allow for the Allies to appear as the “defenders of the neutrality”. It was believed then the Swedish military, plus Allied reinforcements, could hold even a numerically superior force for months. Germany would be denied ore (and even if the Germans broke through, the mines could be sabotaged) and forced to commit its heavy fleet units and troops to the invasion or risk a large Allied force on its northern flank. Even better was that the majority of the fighting could be done by local forces, with limited Allied forces.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Of course, the operation would have to be pulled off before all of this could occur. The operation began in late-February, as the MI-5 held agents began reporting back to Germany reports of Allies negotiations with Sweden. The Germans knew of these negotiations, but believed they would go nowhere. However, according to multiple agents operating in England, the negotiations were progressing quite well. By the beginning of March, the German high command had begun planning for an invasion of Sweden and other Scandinavian countries in response to the seemingly imminent intervention. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The operation achieved fill success however through the March 8th telegram. Sent from the British embassy in Stockholm back to London, the message said that the British had come to an agreement with the Swedes, that they would launch a blockade on Germany of iron ore starting March 24th and that they would allow for British troops to enter the country if necessary. The telegram was sent via naval codes, due to a captured German spies having revealed that the naval code had been cracked. The reason, written into the message, was that the diplomatic cipher machine had broken. Of course, the reality was that the British just wanted the Germans to recieve the message.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The plan ended up working perfectly. OKW began moving troops, planes, and ships into position to launch Operation Weserubung. A British agent operating in northern Germany noticed the troop movements, and dutifully reported back to England. One of the most devious Allied plans of the war had just been pulled off.” [/FONT]
*******
Comments? Questions? Concerns?
I'll say this right now; The deception plan wouldn't be unprecedented, and the Brits always seemed too good at deceiving the Abwehr.....
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Silent night, holy night, all is well, all is right.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]” The record crackled as the gramophone spun, off in a corner in the dining room of Highfield Park, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain's private estate. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]If only that was the case[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought the beleaguered leader. The papers reported nothing of note happening, but that didn’t mean the government did not have issues to deal with. The French had been hounding him about some preposterous plans for Scandinavia and Baku. It seems their leaders did not grasp that pulling the Soviets into the war was the last thing they needed. However, it's not like the Soviets weren't asking for it. German-Soviet trade kept the Wehrmacht running its blitzkrieg across Europe. Also, the partition of Poland hadn't done them any favors. Add in the invasion of Finland and it is no surprise so many were calling for the Soviet's blood as well. However, that's not what this night was all about. It was about being able to spend some time with his family. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It is so nice to be home for a change. 10 Downing may be nice, but it just doesn’t have the charm of home.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Anne, his wife, smiled. “We are all glad to be back.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The white door behind them opened. Out walked three servants, carrying plates filled with warm food. On one large plate was a roasted pheasant, browned to perfection. Neville's mouth watered at the sight of it. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I think what I miss most is the cooking at home” said Neville as he looked at the family's cook, “Thank you very much Cecilia.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The short, plump lady blushed and curtsied before heading back into the kitchen. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Now, let's eat!” said the Prime Minister. He took a large carving knife and cut a piece for his wife and each of his children. Then, when satisfied, he cut himself a piece. Taking a bite, he smiled. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yum! She certainly knows how to cook!” he said. He cut himself another piece, and ate it. A rather pink piece. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]***********[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Headline of the The Times, December 30th, 1939[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Chamberlain Resigns[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Churchill appointed Prime Minister [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Churchill appointed Prime Minister [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain resigned today from office due to health reasons. After a recent bout with salmonella, the Prime Minister complained of incessant bowel pain. A closer examination by doctor's showed Mr. Chamberlain to have a malignant bowel tumor. The exact prognosis is unknown, but after considering all options, Mr. Chamberlain resigned as Prime Minister. In a statement issued by the Mr. Chamberlain today, he is quoted as saying “in normal circumstances I would try and lead the country even with my ailment. However, in this case, the country needs a leader unencumbered by such a condition. I therefore tender my resignation.” In response, First Lord of Admiralty Winston Churchill was appointed Prime Minister by the King. Most agree this is due to Mr. Churchill's ability to hold influence with all parties, and his experience in governing. The new Prime Minister is due to make his first speech to the nation on New Year's Day. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]**********[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]December 29th, 1939[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]This should have been over by now!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]An infuriated Joseph Stalin slammed onto the battle map splayed out onto the table in the main war room of his personal dacha at Kuntsevo. Vyacheslav Molotov, Soviet Foreign Minister, stood ram-rod straight in front of the raving leader of the Soviet Union. Also taking the verbal beating was Soviet Minister of Defense and, incidentally, commander of all Soviet forces involved in the invasion of Finland, Kliment Voroshilov. Stalin's face was red with anger as he ranted further. It was best to not try and stop him once he went into these moods. As a man, Stalin stood only 5' 5”, far from the imposing figure that the public was shown on the posters that could be seen plastered everywhere. “[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Like Napoleon”,[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Molotov. He wanted to smirk badly, but letting that sort of facial expression through could be deadly. In Stalin's Russia, anything, even looking at the Father of Nations in a weird way, could get you in the back of a Black Raven heading for some unmarked ditch deep in the endless woods of Russia. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Stalin stared Voroshilov down. “We give you control of one of the most powerful armies on the planet, and you can't even crush Finland? Even if those defenses were as strong as the Maginot line, the might of the people would push it aside! Except instead, due to your incompetence, we have a disaster on our hands. You have shamed the glorious people's republic!” The Field Marshall stood, silent. Not like that would-[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The only reason we have had such failures is because of your killing of all my officers!” shouted Voroshilov at Stalin. “Out troops lack leaders, simply because of your paranoia! YOU are to blame for our failures!” Stain looked dumbfounded at Voroshilov. It was not often someone stood up to Stalin's madness, and even less often they got away with it. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The dictator stared down his commander. Not a word was said. Suddenly the door opened behind them. A timid servant dressed in a pristine white uniform stuck his head in. “Premier Stalin, dinner is prepared for you.” Then the servant opened the door fully to let the three men pass through. Stalin headed for the door. Without looking at Voroshilov, he started to speak. “I want you to use whatever means necessary to bring Finland to the negotiating tables. If they still do not choose to negotiate, then mark my words, you will pay for it.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]******[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Excerpt from the book [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]An Icy Hell: The Winter War[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] historian Dennis Finn. (1992) [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]...Following a meeting at Stalin's Kuntsevo Dacha on December 29th by most of the Soviet leadership, Field Marshall Voroshilov was given a ultimatum to end the war quickly on the Soviet's terms or be relieved. The task was next to impossible. Voroshilov's men lacked winter gear, making them extremely vulnerable to the harsh realities of a Finnish winter. Also, the ambushes of the Finnish ski troops on Soviet advances were hard to combat, both from the lack of skilled and experienced officers needed to wage such a low level war, and due also to the Soviet's having little knowledge of the terrain. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Out of desperation, Voroshilov turned to aerial warfare. He ordered air raids on Helsinki and on other Finnish cities. Aerial bombardment had been largely ineffective in the early days of the war, but Voroshilov was ready to try anything to bring the Finnish government to the table. Starting on New Years Eve, 1939, a massive wave of 120 Soviet bombers, mostly TB-3's and Tupolev SB's attacked Helsinki while smaller raids hit the towns of Oulu, Tampere, and Turku. The Finns put up a stubborn but fruitless fight against the raids. They lacked the necessary guns, ammo, and planes to put a real dent in the attacking bomber formations. For five straight days, from December 31st, 1939 to January 4th, 1940, Soviet bombers relentlessly pounded Helsinki and the other cities. All told, the raids killed roughly 500 people, with many more dying from exposure to the bitter cold after having their homes destroyed by “Molotov’s Breadbaskets”. The campaign was unsuccessful in its goal, and only further galvanized the general public in Western nations against the Soviet Union, as evidenced by this quote from newly appointed British Prime Minister Winston Churchill's famous “New Year's speech”, said just as news of the resumption of bombings broke:[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]To the British people: I can only offer you my tears, sweat, blood, and toil. To all who oppose tyranny and wickedness in this world: We offer you our support, both in material and in spirit, so as to make this word safe for democracy. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]In the end, the bombings were useless. Finnish resolve held, and on January 5th, 1940, Voroshilov was relieved of command, to be replaced by General Semyon Timoshenko. Voroshilov, an ally of the Stalin from the beginning, the signer of multiple death warrants for many a purged officer, would soon have the tables turned on him. When the Winter War ended up dragging the Soviet Union into the Great European War, Stalin's blame fell solely on Voroshilov for not ending the Winter War fast enough. On the night of March 23rd, 1940, a NKVD car pulled up to his home. He was torn away from his family, taken to an unmarked grave and shot, like many before him. His family was killed likewise three days later. Voroshilov was not afforded a fake trial like so many of his fellow officers he had betrayed during the purge. He simply received a bullet in the back of his head, courtesy of Stalin himself. The Premier had personally ordered his 'liquidation' two days earlier." [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Excerpt from the book [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Operation Javelin and Churchill's Gamble[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] by historian Calvin Bearfield. (2009)
“...Following Prime Minister Chamberlain's resignation, due to the discovery of his terminal bowel cancer which he chose to keep secret, the “old bulldog” Winston Churchill took the helm of the United Kingdom. As a statesmen, he was known for his appeal to the masses and his ability to inspire those behind him. However, much like his counterpart in Nazi Germany, Churchill had a propensity to defend ideas he supported with the stubbornness of an mule, both good and bad. As the First Lord of Admiralty during the early months of the war, he knew of the French staff's support for an intervention into Scandinavia, and of striking a blow against the Soviet Union in the form of a air raid on Baku. Not surprisingly, Churchill supported the plan.
After his appointment to the spot of Prime Minister, Churchill asked for a meeting of the Allied Supreme War Council on an earlier date, due to his desire for action. On January 12th, 1940, the council met in Paris to decide upon new priorities. Representing the United Kingdom were Prime Minister Winston Churchill, Chief of the Imperial General Staff General Edmund Ironside, Foreign Minister Lord Halifax, and the Permanent Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan. Representing France were Prime Minister of France Édouard Daladier, General Maurice Gamelin, Commander and Chief of the French Navy Admiral François Darlan, Minister of Munitions Raoul Dautry, and Jean Monnet, the Chairman of the Franco-British Economic Co-ordination Committee. Discussion turned quickly to Scandinavia. The French staff had been the original supporters of the plan, however under Prime Minister Chamberlain's tenure, their British counterparts had politely rejected this course of action. At the January 12th meeting, the British delegation led by Churchill and Ironside jumped into the discussion with gusto. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Early drafts of the plan advocated for landings in Petsamo in northern Finland. However, a landing at Petsamo would make any move towards the Swedish iron mines a very blatant act of aggression. Instead, the plan, as developed by General Ironside, would be a landing at Narvik in Northern Norway. From there, a combined Allied force could use the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Malmbanan [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]as a direct path to the Swedish iron mines at Kiruna and Malmberget. They could be quickly occupied, and then an expeditionary force could move to aid the beleaguered Fins. Thus, in one fell swoop, Finland could be reinforced and the Germans would lose a valuable source of ore. This plan was also less then ideal due to the awful winter conditions of Scandinavia for transport. It would make any attempt require no hostility from both Sweden and Norway as well. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Many (mostly British) officials such as Lord Halifax and Permanent Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs Cadogan were strongly aligned against the intervention, with Cadogan simply stating “It is a silly scheme devised by men who do not realize the real-world consequences started with the simple movement of a flag across a map.” However, with the rest of the staff, the plot was garnering support. The general public clamored for action as the “Bore War” or “Phoney War”, as the press had dubbed the lengthy inaction, continued on. At the same time, the Soviet invasion of Finland had raised the public's ire while the recent “New Year's Bombings” had only incensed the West's populace even more. Meanwhile, the Soviets had shown themselves to be a rather incompetent enemy so far, with the plucky Finnish ski troopers beating off the technologically superior Red Army, with its large mechanized formations, quite easily. It logically followed to the Allied leadership that if Finland could hold off the Soviets by themselves, with Allied support the war could turn into an easy rout. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Strategically, the plan seemed sound as well. With the move, Germany would lose a large percentage (by Allied estimates) of its ore supply. The occupation could be followed by an air raid on Baku, the Soviet's, and by extension the German's, main source of crude oil, codenamed “Operation Pike”. With both of these attacks, it seemed the Nazi war machine could be brought to a standstill. To those who objected to bringing the Soviet Union into the war, two main responses were given. Firstly, following the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact and other such treaties and trade agreements between the powers, the Western Allies began to view Germany and the Soviet Union as two peas in a totalitarian pod. The news of the February 4th trade agreement, which more quadrupled the trade between the two nations along with allowing German access to the Northern Sea Route only confirmed these suspicions to the Allied powers. Secondly, the Western Allies doubted the Soviets military strength. While the Soviets would enter the war, they lacked the power projection, at least in the Allies' mind, to cause harm to the West. Also, as mentioned earlier, the Allies thought lowly of the Red Army following its failure to crush Finland quickly. Finally, it was not believed that the Soviets and Nazis would be willing or able to launch a joint offensive into Europe until the Scandinavian campaign was resolved, which Allied officials believed could last long enough for France and the UK to have mobilized to the point where the war would be an even fight. These thoughts proved troublesome for any of R4's detractors to disprove. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Finally, it should be noted how the plan would achieve a much vaunted goal of the French Military Staff. Many of its members were veterans of the Great War, and remembered the harm inflicted on its land and people when front line was 75 miles from Paris. To them, it was about time that the grim specter of war visited a new land. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]With all of this in mind, the decision was made on January 12th to go forward with Plan R4, or upon further planning, Operation Javelin, along with Operation Pike. While much work was needed, many contingencies need to be accounted for (how the Nordic nations would react was a large question mark), and many large changes were to come, the die had been cast. The war was about to take a drastic turn, one that would have far reaching consequences for the Allies." [/FONT]
******
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]January 20th, 1940[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Too many, white was a pure color. One of innocence; of good. However, to Soviet forces around the Kollaa River, it was a color that only brought terror. For hiding somewhere in the endless white blanket that lay over the cold ground was the White Death.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Simo[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Häyhä looked down the iron sights of his Mosin-Nagant rifle. Having a telescopic scope would only give an enemy counter sniper a way to find him. With his white camouflage and limited equipment, Simo was almost impossible to find. Which was not good for the Soviet patrol he had sighted.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The five men crept slowly through the thick underbrush. The Red Army had run into much trouble trying to move through the rough terrain of Ladoga Karelia. All the major roads had Finnish blocking forces on them, and tanks where useless in the dense words. Any attempt by foot meanwhile...[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Simo squinted further. The iron site quickly lined up with the soldier taking up the rear. He took a deep breath.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The rifle shot echoed through the white forest. The red soldier dropped like a rock. A perfect head shot. Simo worked the bolt smoothly as the patrol quickly looked around for any signs of the sniper. Agitated Russian drifted towards Simo's ears, but he didn’t care to listen. He raised his rifle again.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Another man down. Now three extremely agitated Reds stood. They quickly began to run back form whence they came, making a large ruckus. A few birds, disturbed by the noise, flew out from their perch. As a boy, Simo's game had been simple birds. Now he was after a bigger prize. One soldier tripped over a log. He disappeared from sit only to quickly try and scramble back up. Stupid. His only chance would have been to try and wait out Simo. Not likely. He had patience, and anyway it would be only a matter of time before some artillery came down on this position. Not like it mattered now. The White Death held his breath again.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]. The man fell to the ground once again, for good. The two remaining men were getting away faster then Simo had thought. He only had time to take out one. He quickly aimed and fired again.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The fourth man fell as the fifth fled fast, back to his unit or where ever he had come from. Now the sniper would have to hurray. Once he made it back, an artillery strike was a matter of when, not if. Ever since New Year's, when the Soviet's had begun to realized how many of their men were being picked of Simo's crack shot, they had begun increasing reckless and desperate attempts to kill him. No matter. Simo silently began to crawl away to a distance he thought would be safe enough by his judgement.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The White Death crawled fifty yards back towards friendly lines. He suddenly felt like he had lost a clip when a rifle report filled the air. Into the snow just a foot ahead of him appeared a hole in the snow. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Apparently I have a friend [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]thought Simo. He quickly jumped up and threw himself behind a large old tree trunk as another bullet wizzed by. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Amateur. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Trying to find the other sniper would be hard. He would just need to locate the sniper.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He quickly pulled out a small mirror he kept for situations like these. Simo grabbed the mirror by its long handle and slowly pushed it out from behind the cover. He just needed to find the small glint of the glass scope.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Suddenly, from behind a large Pine tree came the breath flicker of light. Exactly what he needed. Simo slid agonizingly slow out from his hiding spot. He put some snow in his mouth so that his breath wouldn’t give away his location. In what felt like an hour he was finally repositioned. With great care Simo lined up his shot. He took a breath.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]CRACK. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The bullet flew true, and hit the opposing sniper in the neck. He fell over, garaging blood. Satisfied that the coast was clear, the White Death stood for all to see and walked back towards friendly lines. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]20 minutes later, he was among his own. An officer came up to him, a great big smile upon his face. “Ahhh! You return! How was the day's hunt?”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Just the usual” replied the sniper. He walked to his tent, leaned his rifle on a post and crawled inside. [/FONT]
******
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]February 2nd, 1940
Colour Sergeant Lewis Morgan, Royal Marines, stopped to catch his breath. He watched as his breath turned to a icy fog. A cold, bitting wind blew it his face laden with large snowflakes. The sergeant quickly composed himself and looked as the 30 enlisted men behind him struggled up the side of Wideford Hill. One could Just barely make out the dark shapes of the Royal Navy anchored at Scapa Flow through the white and grey haze of the storm. Somewhere among those shapes was the HMS Warspite, the ship from where these marines came from.
“Come on you bums! This isn't some fun run! Now get yer arses up here on the double!” The line of men, all dressed in identical dark blue sweatpants and red sweaters for winter PT, where just as out of breath as Sergeant Morgan. Serving on board one of the capital ships of Her Majesty's battlefleet does not give one many opportunities to exercise. Many of the men seemed ready to barf up their lunch in fact, mostly the war recruits who had arrived around November. Life aboard a capital ship made it hard for the marines to get their conditioning in, and if you wanted to kill Huns you needed to be in shape.
“Ok you bloody prats, let's get this show on the road. Hope you all had enough rest, cause it is a long way back as well.” With that Morgan took of down the hill from whence they came. The marines, reluctantly, began to follow.
About 45 minutes later, the tired marines arrived back at small dock where the launch had discharged them. “Ok ladies, take a breather. Consider today's exercises finished. I expect better next time.” The marines let out a tired cheer and began to talk amongst themselves as they idled on the dock. Morgan stood, looking out over the icy water. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Where's that launch[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] he thought to himself. While he didn't exactly enjoy the idle life on a ship, he did at least want to get back to the warmth of the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Warspite.
[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]
After a short wait, the launch arrived at the jetty. The marines quickly boarded and took a seat. As the ship pulled away at a leisurely pace towards the capital ships, the Petty Officer on board the launch walked back to Sergeant Morgan. “Order's from the top; you and your marines are to gather your belongings and then report back to us. It seems you blokes are needed elsewhere.”
[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Well that is a surprise. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]“Roger sir,” said Morgan back to the Petty officer, who then worked his way back to his seat towards the bow. Morgan stood up and faced his men. He cleared his throat, which they could even hear over the noise of the engine behind them. Morgan's ability to clear is throat was rather well known throughout the ship. If you wanted to get someone's attention, he could assist.
“It seems we are needed elsewhere marines, so when we get back to the ship, you all need to back your sacks and get back to this launch on the double.” The marines groaned at the news. “Yes, yes, I know, upsetting, but at least this means we might meet some Nazi's soon enough.” The men have a cheer as the launch pulled up to the mighty [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Warspite.[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] She might be an old grey lady but she could still dish out the punishment. The men quickly scampered up the gangway laid out for them and ran to their bunks. Morgan followed.
A half-hour later, the marines queued up to board the launch, carrying their knapsacks on their shoulders. The snow had mostly subsided, with only a few snowflakes tumbling down towards the earth. However, the metal stairs laid out from the ship's deck to the launch was slick from the snow. The marines had to take care not to slip and fall into the icy water of Scapa Flow. It wouldn't kill them, but it would make them the laughing stock of the platoon for a week or so, a fate almost as bad as death.
The marines quickly loaded into the launch, and after a few minutes were back at the jetty. They found two Bedford trucks waiting for them, which they boarded. Moving slowly, the trucks brought the marines to a makeshift camp set up just north of Kirkwall. The men quickly dismounted and walked into the camp. A short, red faced Royal Marine Captain directed the men some tents that had been propped up for them to drop of their knapsacks, before they went to a larger tent. After another 5 minutes of the re ordering and arranging, the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Warspite[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]'s marines got into a line of marines all from other ships. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hurray up and wait[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Morgan. Finally, just as the snow picked up again, the cold, tired marines reached the inside of the tent. Many quartermasters stood near crates filled with white clothing. Morgan walked up to one. “Size?” sad the quartermaster in a very dull tone.
“15 and a half,” said Morgan. The quartermaster shoved a shirt towards him. He grabbed it. It was the normal combat shirt worn by the marines except in a wintery color, meant for camouflage in snow. He continued down the line, with each equally dry quartermaster giving him a new set of clothes. As the platoon settled down outside the tent, they began to chat amongst themselves. Getting winter gear certainly meant something was going on, but what exactly was hard to tell. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I guess that is best left to men up top. I'm sure they know what they are doing. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Then Morgan laughed to himself. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Who am I kidding? [/FONT]
******
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]February 20[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]th[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif], 1940[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] It was a cold and gusty afternoon in New York City, as the streets teemed with people hustling and bustling through their daily lives. However, Theodore Seuss Geisel found that he rather enjoyed this time of day for pleasure. With a steady income from his “Flit” advertisements and some extra cash from his children's books, his days were rather open. So, as women wrapped tight in their fur coats rushed to get groceries, or men in long trench coats holding fedoras or baker boy caps tight to there head with a free hand rushed to and fro, Seuss decided he wanted to catch the Saturday matinee with his lovely wife Helen. Seuss looked over at his wife, her face pressed into her warm coat against the bitting wind. After passing multiple crying newsboys on the street corner of 7[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]th[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] and 34[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]th[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] and a establishment known as “Joe's Diner”, the cinema's broad entrance opened up onto the street. Seuss walked up to the ticket counter and slapped two dimes down for the ticket man. He handed Seuss his tickets, and the two walked inside.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] As the door swung open, Seuss was greeted by the smell of the warm popcorn the theaters always tried to peddle. He normally didn't by it. Helen on the other hand...[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “I'll be right back dear!” she said as she reached into her small purse and pulled out a nickle. She walked over and bought herself one of the small red and white striped bags filled with the salty treat and then meet back with her husband. The two then walked into the theater and took a seat in the back by the door. Just then the whirling of the projector started as the lights turned down. Seuss could make out the wispy stream from the projector as the film started. Seuss placed his hat on his lap and Helen moved a little closer to him. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The matinee opened in the familiar way. The music swelled as the screen was filled with the image of a tiny toy airplane circling the spinning globe. Then the globe disappeared, and was replaced by large words. Soon the announcer began to speak, reading of what was on the screen; “Universal Newsreels presents, the news of the week!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The footage quickly changed to that of the frozen fighting in Finland. “In Finland, the Winter War rages on as Red troops finally began to penetrate the defenses of the Finnish Marshal Mannerheim!” The footage changed to a shot of Mannerheim pointing on a large table map as the music swelled for the second time. Then the shot changed to that of Soviet tanks, rubling through the snow, as did the sound effects to match. “Using tanks and planes, the Reds have been slowly grinding their way through. However, the brave warriors from the north continue to fight on!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Then footage switched to that of an exploding ship, while the announcer began to describe why. “Meanwhile, the battle for the Atlantic rages on, as Nazi U-boats continue to prey on the shipping of the United Kingdom and her commonwealths! British Prime Minister Winston Churchill however, remains defiant of the U-boat threat!” The film cuts to Churchill speaking in front of parliament. His baritone filled the theater. Even Seuss received chills from his voice. “No matter how many ships the U-boats send to the bottom, we will build more! We will build better ships, build more supplies, and hold on, for they can sink our ships, but they can not sink our resolve!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Finally the footage shifted to something no war related, as scenes of snow covered fields were shown. “Finally, here in the USA, the east coast was blanketed in a layer of snow this week, delaying trains and in general causing problems.” The footage then cut to some young kids playing in a snow bank. “Except for these young lads here. Now have fun won't you?” The kids now appeared in a line, waving at the camera, before the footage cut to the boys having a snowball fight. “Oh kids!” said the announcer as the music swelled to its finally. Over the final note, the screen was again dominated by the turning globe with the small plane as the the announcer's voice boomed “And this was Universal Newsreels news of the week!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] After the news, a quick cartoon from Metro-Goldwyn Mayer played of a cat and a mouse's fight over their house. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Now maybe the cat should have a hat[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Seuss wistfully. He and Helen got a good laugh out of the cat trying to balance all of the plates the mouse had knocked over. After the cartoon and a few more commercials, the main film played; Pinocchio, from the Disney company. It was another animated story of a wooden puppet who wants to be real boy, and how is he led astray by his evil habits before sacrificing himself for his father. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]My books make more sense then this, and could have better messages![/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] thought Seuss with a grin. Afterwards the lights came up and the couple stood up. Seuss stretched his arms up. “One thing I never get used to is sitting still for so long!” said Seuss. Helen giggled at him. Then the two walked out of the theater and through the cinema lobby. “Certainly was a lovely time,” said Helen, “lets you forget the the troubles in the world for a while.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] As the Geisel's left the theater, the cold blast of air welcomed them back to reality. The newsboys, still yelling, announcing the latest headlines from the war in Europe and China. The two walked back towards there cozy apartment as the snow picked up. Seuss reached down and took his wife's hand. They looked towards each other and smiled. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]******
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]March 6th, 1940[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Few roads ran through the Kollaa region of Finland, due to it's remoteness and the rough terrain. Filled with rivers, trees, and lakes, it did not seem like an area that would need such infrastructure. This issue was certainly causing the Red army some trouble. They had been held in place by the 12th Division for the entire span of the Winter War. Even now, in March, as the mighty Mannerheim line was being breached by the Soviets, Kollaa still had not fallen. As Lieutenant Juutilainen had said, Kollaa will hold unless the orders are to run.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Simo Häyhä relaxed , his rifle leaned against a nearby tree, his Suomi SMG on his back, as did the other 22 men hiding in the snow and underbrush next to the small road, just at the end of a curve in the path. Just because there were few roads didn’t mean the Russians wouldn't try and use them. The men were what was left of the 1st company of the 2nd Battalion of the 12th Division. Holding Kollaa had come at a cost, a dear cost to the men on the 12th, but they had made the Russians pay even more for every inch of land they conquered. The men had managed to requisition a Maxim gun and some ammo for it, along with some extra anti-tank rifle rounds and a few satchel charges. They were well prepared for any sort of attack. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Crouched in the snow next to Simo were three other men, Gustav, Eero, and Valto. As a sniper, Simo generally worked alone. However, as he was about to go out on a patrol he meet up with these three who were busy collecting ammo, and they had asked if he would like to join them for a ambush or two. Simo found himself hard pressed to say no. The three seemed to be good friends, as they could chat the day away. Now they were, like most men their age, talking about girls. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “Ehh, that is nothing! In Leppyalampi there is a girl, I swear, her tits are as big as your head!” said Eero.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “Let me guess, you slept with her as well?” said Valto as he laughed.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Gustav then chimed in. “Bullshit he slept with her! You couldn't even sleep with a whore! She'd take one look at ya and tell you you owe her triple!” The three burst into laughter. Oh to be 20 again thought Simo. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Suddenly, a distant rumbling was heard. Simo perked up. He would recognize the sound of a Soviet tank anywhere. He quickly motioned for the three to get down. They grabbed their rifles and worked their way into the snow. The rest of the company followed. The sound continued to grow louder as the tank crawled closer. It was a much deeper, heavier soundthen usual, not the normal sound of one of their Vickers rip-offs or the thin skinned BT's. This can't be good.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Suddenly, from around the turn came a monstrous tank, an officer in a black uniform standing arrogantly out of the pulpit, flanked by at least 30 men. The tank had to be about 7 meters long and had huge treads. A turret rested nicely on top, with a gun that almost seemed too small for the tank. Looks like the Reds weren't messing around. Simo looked across the way at the commander, a young, field-promoted Lieutenant. He gave a thumbs up. They were going to engage, and he had the first shot. This wasn't a hard choice. Simo sighted his rifle on the tank officer riding around like he owned the land. Now to just weight for the right moment...[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] CRACK! Simo fired, the familiar kick hitting his shoulder. The tank commander suddenly slumped down as the rifle shot echoed. The rest of the company then opened fire, the individual rifle shots and the constant tear of the maxim filling the air. Most of the Soviets quickly dropped dead as the hail of fire tore into them, but some managed to survive, firing back wildly into the woods. They wouldn't last however within the first 15 seconds most of the infantry was finished. A large tank was still left however.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] As soon as the Maxim had opened up, the turret began turning towards its position. The brave crew continued firing until the turret had stopped right on them. Then the sounds of yelling filled as the men ran from the gun. KA-THOOM! The sharp sound of the gun firing mixed with the dull thump of the shell exploded, sending shrapnel, dirt, and body parts raining over the other side of the road. However, Simo had little time to watch, as a machine gun located on the back of the tank's turret made itself known. The gun fired into the underbrush, tearing into two unlucky men. The anti-tank rifle, on Simo's side of the road, fired, its loud report filling Simo's ears. However, the 20mm round bounced off the tanks heavy armor, even at such extreme range. The turret turned a few degrees and the backwards facing MG opened up. Another man down.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Suddenly, Eero jumped from his hiding spot, a satchel charge in hand. He pushed through the brush and dived onto the road, almost face planting into the frozen mud. He then slapped the charge onto the tanks treads and activated the charge. As Eero tried to leap back into cover, the machine gun caught him in the back. He feel into the bushes, dead. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “NO!” screamed Gustav and Valto. Valto went to get up, but Simo placed a hand on his chest to stop him. The charge blew, ruining the tanks tracks. It was now immobilized. They would be going nowhere. The Finns waited for the top to pop open and a white flag to appear. Instead, the turret began to whirl, as it spun, slowly. Towards Simo. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “GET OUT OF THE WAY!” he yelled as Simo, Valto, Gustav, and two other men jumped to their feet and ran out of the way. One man slipped as he tried to stand, falling back down. He managed to croak out “Help!” before the tank fired. There was nothing left of him afterwards. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “Fine,” said Simo, “I guess we have to do this the hard way. He placed his sniper rifle against a tree and took his Suomi SMG from his back. “You three, follow me!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The four men burst from the woods onto the road and ran towards the rear of the tank. The turret tried to turn fast enough, but there was not enough time. The four reached the back of the tank. Simo quickly began to try and climb onto the back, but the metal was very slick. “Help me up!” he yelled at the others. They pushed him on top of the tank. By now the turret had turned back to normal, the machine gun facing him. “Shit!” he screamed as he jumped right off the tank he had struggled to get onto as the machine gun let worth a burst that went harmlessly into the dirt behind the tank. “Go to the other side!” Simo yelled at the three other men. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The three moved to the side with the blown of tracks. The turret began to turn again so that the MG would face the three. Simo but his gun on his back. As soon as the main gun was above Simo though, he jumped up and grabbed onto it. From there he climbed onto the top of the tank. The crew must have heard the sound of his boots on the body, for the hatch swung open, and a Soviet in the black overalls of a tank crewmen raised his pistol up. Simo cut him down with a burst. Then he yelled for Gustav to throw him another Satchel charge. He did, and Simo grabbed it, activate it, threw it into the tank, shut the hatch and slide of the side of the tank. Muffled screams could be heard before a dull thump ended them. Simo walked over to the other men. “And THAT gentleman is how you take out a tank!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]******[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] “...In 1939, as war had approached, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, head of the German Abwehr, was pressured by Hitler to fill the UK with spies so that the Nazi's would have up to date information on British moves. However, these spies, sent hurriedly, were very easy to find. By February of 1940, at least a quarter of the Abwehr spies in the UK had been captured or were close to a fate, and by the end of the way, save for two or three agents, the Abwehr has ceased to exist as an effective spying force in England. The captured agents were given a choice; they could continue to be free and send false information to the Germans, or could be jailed and tried as spies. Most choice the first choice. The spies would play a key role in one of the biggest, and most controversial, false flag operations of the war. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Following Prime Minister Churchill's taking of office, plans had be constructed for a intervention in Scandinavia, along with a bombing attack on the Soviet oil facilities in Baku, as the Soviet Union began to be seen as more and more as an pseudo-Axis power. The original casus belli for the operation was supposed to be to support the Finns in the Winter War. However, following the launching of a new offensive in Finland on January 29th by the Soviets, and the flat out refusal by the Swedes for transit rights. By the Swedes refusing transits rights, any force would need to face the formidable Swedish army on its home territory in the Scandinavian winter; not a sunny prospect for the army units involved. This would mean the delaying of any reinforcements by weeks, if not months, to Finland, who had little time left, thus rendering moot the stated goal of the operation. Finally, the German reaction would certainly be one of supporting the Nordic nations against the Allied invasion, making the invasion even harder. Thus, the original plan was scrapped. Operation Pike continued unabated, but it seemed that the doves in the Foreign Ministry might have won out against Churchill and the French Chiefs of Staff. It was then however, that an ingenious, though sinister, plan was hatched by numerous Naval Intelligence personnel, including one Mr. Fleming.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The main problem the Allies were having was creating a justification, besides bald-faced aggression, for the invasion. The plan hatched by the men in the Naval Intelligence Directory was to use the many compromised Abwehr agents to spread false information to the Germans regarding negotiations between Sweden and the UK, to induce an invasion by the Germans to allow for the Allies to appear as the “defenders of the neutrality”. It was believed then the Swedish military, plus Allied reinforcements, could hold even a numerically superior force for months. Germany would be denied ore (and even if the Germans broke through, the mines could be sabotaged) and forced to commit its heavy fleet units and troops to the invasion or risk a large Allied force on its northern flank. Even better was that the majority of the fighting could be done by local forces, with limited Allied forces.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Of course, the operation would have to be pulled off before all of this could occur. The operation began in late-February, as the MI-5 held agents began reporting back to Germany reports of Allies negotiations with Sweden. The Germans knew of these negotiations, but believed they would go nowhere. However, according to multiple agents operating in England, the negotiations were progressing quite well. By the beginning of March, the German high command had begun planning for an invasion of Sweden and other Scandinavian countries in response to the seemingly imminent intervention. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The operation achieved fill success however through the March 8th telegram. Sent from the British embassy in Stockholm back to London, the message said that the British had come to an agreement with the Swedes, that they would launch a blockade on Germany of iron ore starting March 24th and that they would allow for British troops to enter the country if necessary. The telegram was sent via naval codes, due to a captured German spies having revealed that the naval code had been cracked. The reason, written into the message, was that the diplomatic cipher machine had broken. Of course, the reality was that the British just wanted the Germans to recieve the message.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] The plan ended up working perfectly. OKW began moving troops, planes, and ships into position to launch Operation Weserubung. A British agent operating in northern Germany noticed the troop movements, and dutifully reported back to England. One of the most devious Allied plans of the war had just been pulled off.” [/FONT]
*******
Comments? Questions? Concerns?
I'll say this right now; The deception plan wouldn't be unprecedented, and the Brits always seemed too good at deceiving the Abwehr.....
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