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AAR: The Fall and Rise of the Free French!!!

Zeres

By Zeres
in Strategic Command 1

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JerseyJohn Senior Member

JerseyJohn

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Hitler stood by the wall-sized window and gazed at the countryside, the idyllic mountains and valleys and wondered if this brilliant land based admiral could truly be trusted. Perhaps he was too much the genius, too devious. A man of many languages, he'd simply learn them and think nothing of it; perhaps a man who only spoke good honest German would be preferable.

He left the house slowly, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, head of the Abwehr -- the armed forces intelligence service -- sat patiently on the low stone fence of the great patio. When he saw the Fuhrer he rose to his feet and saluted. Not the full arm out salute of a Heydrich, no, it was the casual salute and head nod that did not quite fit with the National Socialist manner.

"Admiral, your trip was a pleasant one I trust?"

"Yes, Fuhrer. As always the scenery was wonderful and the trip a pleasure."

Adolf nodded, changing to his serious face.

"I have called you here, alone, because I need to draw on your special relationship with the Spaniard Franco."

"The Iberian countryside is very lovely this time of year."

The fuhrer nodded again, damn him and his condescending remarks.

"Yes. The Generalisimo must honor his pledge and enter the Axis. He must remember that, were it not for the Duce and myself he would probably have been put against a wall and shot two years ago. Yes, that Spaniard, he must be --"

Canaris nodded, "I understand, mein Fuhrer."

Adolf allowed himself a relaxed expression, "But by all means, do not beat him over the head with it, put it diplomatically. Tell him this is the perfect time for Spain to regain Gibraltar and we are eager to help him attain that goal."

"Yes mein Fuhrer, I'm sure he will see things our way. It is only common sense."

Adolf smiled. "Yes, it is, isn't it!"

[ November 07, 2002, 12:13 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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JerseyJohn Senior Member

JerseyJohn

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The Generalisimo was a man of stregnth without being overly large. He grasped the Admiral's hand with near affection and tilted his head in a smile. No need for a translator, this was one German who's Spanish was a pleasure.

"Canaris, I can not tell you how good it is to see you!"

"Thank you, Francisco, and I you. I trust everyone is well."

"Yes, with the Grace of Jesus."

Canaris smiled affably, of all the fascists the Spaniard was the only one who lapsed into altar boy phrases. The only one who said prayers before dining and the only who knew God would surely look over and protect him.

A moment later they were alone in flower garden, a modest stone table was set with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"So, my old friend, am I correct in assuming your boss, the corporal, has not sent you to Madrid to sit in the sunlight and sip wine with me -- I understand he does not drink himself?"

"No -- in fact, it is 'no' on both questions."

Franco shook his head, what to make of a man who doesn't indulge even a little wine drinking?

"The Fuhrer says he is disgusted that Britain has been allowed to control a part of mighty Spain for so long a time."

The Generalisimo stiffened a bit, "Yes, the very symbol of an impregnable fortress -- a mountain of solid rock that has been fortified and refortified and --"

"Yes, it is impregnable, perhaps even as impregnable as the Maginot Line."

Franco frowned, "And where is my Belgium for outflanking this monstrosity?"

Canaris nodded sympathetically, "Perhaps a few battleships would help diminish it."

"What -- the Italians? And who should protect them from those British aircraft carriers?"

"No, what the Fuhrer had in mind was land battleships, or at least their guns. He is prepared to offer the use of the wehrmacht's heaviest siege guns. They are quite huge and impressive. As an authority on these things I can assure you of this."

The Generalissimo smirked, "The actual assualt would have to be done by Spanish troops."

"Of course."

"Yes, of course."

The admiral poured another drink for each of them. "And it goes without saying the hardy Spanish people, even after all the suffering they have endured these past years of Civil War, will have to bear up to the fact that more suffering will follow, that war is not a picnic, and there will, beyond doubt be suffering a plenty when Britain and perhaps some future ally reorganize and begin settling old scores."

Franco put his glass back on the table.

"Please, speak plainly, my friend."

"Your pardon, Francisco, but my intent was not to be cryptic and I'm quite certain my message was not lost -- excellent wine, by the way."

"And if I don't join Germany -- do you think I have any illusions, even for a moment that the Pyrannies are any more protection to Spain than the Maginot was for France?"

Another sip, Canaris weighed his words carefully.

"Armies relocate, my friend. What had been north of you just a few months ago may be sitting somewhere very far off even as we speak."

Franco's face became relaxed. "You truly are a friend to both myself and the people of Spain."

A toast, glasses clinking.

"Also, the corporal wishes to meet with you, he wishes for me to help make the arrangements. Is that agreeable with you?"

"Yes, yes, by all means. And afterward I shall return home and pray for his lost soul."

"And mine as well, my old friend, mine as well."

Another toast.

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JerseyJohn Senior Member

JerseyJohn

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The Fuhrer smiled broadly. Ah, this man Canaris was a wonder -- everything was in order for the meeting on the French border.

"And he understands?"

"Yes, mein Fuhrer, he understands and says both he and the people of Spain are eager to be rid of the British stronghold that has held them hostage these past two centuries."

"Excellent, Canaris, excellent!"

The admiral nodded, then frowned and turned away.

"What is it, Canaris, what is troubling you?"

"I am hesitant to say it, but perhaps I must."

"Yes, by all means you must, whatever it is. There can be no secrets from your fuhrer."

"Well, perhaps it is the Latin temperament. I have known the Generalisimo for quite a long time and, frankly, I have seen him been full of enthusiasm for a project one day and dead set against it the next."

Hitler's lips tightened into a straight line. His right hand clenched and unclenched involuntarily with mounting anxiety.

"Perhaps, Fuhrer, it is nothing, perhaps it is only an impression, the unfriendly manner of those priests that are ever present; or the British embassy people who spend so much time going in and out of his courtyard. Ah, it is nothing, mein Fuhrer, it is only the needless worrying of an old sea dog who has been too long on dry land."

The Fuhrer twitched unresponsively.

--- ---

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JerseyJohn Senior Member

JerseyJohn

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Canaris had been right, if the Spaniard had been enthusiastic before it certainly was not in evidence now.

The Fuhrer sat pensively twitching, he couldn't help it now. It seemed the meeting had been going on for hours and they were further than ever from reaching an understanding. What was worse, the Spaniard sat quietly at the table, looking irritable in his dress uniform, almost as though he had a toothache and some minor official nobody knew did all the talking.

"So, what you are saying is this: we allow you to send your guns here, bombard the stronghold, and it will be Spanish troops running up those slopes being slaughtered by the thousands!"

Colonel-General Jodl thumped the table, "No -- what we are saying is this, we will set our siege guns up behind your entrenchments and pound Gibraltar till it is little more than a sand dune. Your brave Spanish troops need not fear spilling their precious blood because no Englishmen will remain alive to fire at them."

The Spanish official sneered skeptically, "And these bases in the Canary Islands you desire -- what do we recieve in exchange? Do we get Algeria and Tunesia -- no. What do we get in return other than the right to cede territory to the Reich? So, instead of growing larger we will grow smaller -- or is there some other formula for measuring acreage in Germany?"

The Fuhrer seethed but could not look up, could not bear to see the expression on Keitel's face, the expression that said, 'please, have this Spanish underling removed and shot first and begin the discussions anew afterwards.'

A nervous twitch in his left leg, perhaps the long forgotten memory of a war wound, and the Fuhrer could no longer restrain his anger.

"You gain the further good will of The Reich. You gain entry into the Pact of Steel, The Mighty Axis! You will be rid of the national disgrace that is Gibraltar --"

He stared right at Franco and the man didn't flinch. "Need I remind the Generalissimo that, were it not for his good friends, the Duce and myself, he would not now enjoy his present position -- would not now be ruling in Madrid, would at best be rotting in that desert ****hole we found him in or, more likely, have been shot two years ago as a traitor!"

Still, the generalisimo hadn't budged. Instead, the underling continued.

"Yes, yes, we will have the the priveledge of joining the 'Mighty Axis' only to see landings on our homeland as Italy has --"

"And they were driven out again with the help of the wehrmacht, a force which, I dare say, can enter either as a friend or as an enemy."

"Well then, if we are being threatened --!"

The room fell to total silence. The underling was breathing heavily, no doubt aware he had crossed the line, had pushed things too far. And still Franco sat passively, not even making eye contact.

A short while later the underling continued, this time in a calm and diplomatic voice. "Even the failed landing in Southern Italy produced great ruin and hardship. As you know, we are not a wealthy nation; our people have only recently suffered the ravages of a ruthless and bloody Civil War. That we owe the great nations of Germany and Italy a tremendous debt of gratitude there can be no doubt. But we are afraid, in the nations's present poverty and social instability, even a mishap along the lines of Bari would be ruinous to our ultimate cause. None the less, we shall always be great admirers of the Fuhrer and friends to the German people of the Might Reich."

Hitler gave Franco a final glance and still he only sat staring blankly.

-- --

Ribbentrop rubbed his right hand slowly back and forth against his mouth, "Yes, this is all quite puzzling. Perhaps, mein Fuhrer, if we waited a while and met with him again in the --"

Hitler shook his head angrily. "No, Joachim, I would rather have all my teeth pulled without anesthetic than meet again with that man!"

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RicKhan Member

RicKhan

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The single post i have contributed was done on a spur of the moment. Then off to the races (RL) i went.

Seems as if u guys never sleep and have much time and effort devoted to this project (labor of love).

My effort will be at a slower pace than all of yours, as i still play many games throughout the week.

JerseyJohn, Carl Von Mannerheim and Zeres, you have all done a stellar job with this AAR/alternate history story. Keep up the breakneck pace.

Oh!

Congratulations Zeres. Have a long neverending Honeymoon too. ;)

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JerseyJohn Senior Member

JerseyJohn

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RicKhan --

Likewise, really enjoyed your Roosevelt gardening and his thoughts. Hope to see more of it soon.

I'll also be slowing down now that the wife has put me and the computer on the sidewalk -- luckily we have a long heavy duty extension cord and an equally long telephone line. Also lucky it hasn't begun snowing yet.

So, thanks to this forum Zeres is getting married and I'm on the verge of divorce -- it's amazing how these things level off in the final tally?

*************************************************

-- Message to Rick will be omitted and photos to be posted in it's place -- "JJ"

*************************************************

[ November 03, 2002, 04:43 PM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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JerseyJohn Senior Member

JerseyJohn

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Marshal Philipe Petain, the eighty-five year old hero of Verdun, stood at the podium wondering what to say.

That sneaky little fellow with the mustache, Pierre Laval, had introduced him a few moments ago, something about one of them being president and the other vice-president, but he was not quite certain whether he was one or the other.

All so confusing, he noticed that other sneaky little fellow, General Neysey sitting off with the officers. Oh yes, he was the new commander of the Armies of France, or something. Yes, now he remembered.

He remembered how, before retiring, he used to sit at high command conferences and argue endlessly with Neysey about the horse being obsolete and how the tank and motor transport were the future of the French Army. Then, one day not long before his formal retirement, he suddenly found himself aggreeing with that little fellow. Horses were, after all, friendly creatures a man could pat on the snout and talk to. They were useful, too, hauling things, and in their wake they left fertilizer. Besides, everyone knew France had the finest stables on earth for raising cavalry mounts. He remembered voicing all these things, and then they had him sign some papers and he was happily retired.

God -- all that had been years ago!

But they were waiting for him to speak now. He gulped some water, then stood upright and began:

"Soldiers of France. Once again the boche is at our doorstep -- their barbaric marching songs echoing across our borders but fear not for I, Marshal of France Philipe Petain shall again lead you in battle and --"

And two men were leading him from the podium amidst polite applause.

"Was it a good speach?"

"Yes sir, a very fine, rousing speach."

And the other added, "If you will pardon me, Mr Presicent, sir, perhaps a bit late and in the wrong war, but a fine speach all the same."

Petain sat smiling. Wonderful, he hadn't lost his touch. Yes, and soon he'd have another birthday. Let's see, this year he'd be . . ..?

At the podium now was General Neysey, recently recalled from his post in Equatorial Africa to assume command of all Vichy French forces.

"My fellow Frenchmen. As the great Marshal Petain has even now reminded us, we are once again at peace, but it is an eneasy one with the traitor Belotte still at large and conspiring with his friends, the adventurer Churchill and his caddy, Bernard Montgomery. We must be prepared for anything. I have, therefore, called for the training of five thousand extra cuirsaires and an additional five thousand lancers. May God continue to favor us and may he enable us to hunt down the vile Belotte, butcher of Brussels, and bring him to swift justice, for it is only then that we can restore the honor of our beloved France."

- - -

[ November 02, 2002, 09:22 PM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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