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Jon .. I'm too old to remember where I first read about this. Possibly in Max Hasting's "Overlord" 30-odd years ago.

I know that the first time I saw a "Schmeisser" it was back in the mid-60's in Maidstone Museum. It was donated by a veteran of the Royal West Kent Regiment who had served in Italy. I suspect that the original owner was a Fallschirmjager. But, it is a very long time since I've been back there.

I also know that the Imperial War Museum has had pictures of "Tommies" using captured MP40's on display in the past.

Perhaps a younger member of the forum can find more info about this on the net.

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The IWM appears to have approximately one (1) photo of a Schmeisser or MP-40 being used by Allied forces ... and it's clearly posed.

Hastings has five (5) mentions of Schmeisser, none of which fit your description.

Museums everywhere are filled with captured examples of the enemies weapons, upto and including whole tanks, aircraft, and artillery pieces. That's hardly surprising - they tend not to be left just laying about after the battlefront moves on. It's not really evidence that they were 'often' used against their former owners, nor that the temporary owners were 'shot out of hand' when caught with their booty.

So, we're still at [citation needed] for your two very strong assertions.

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I have a woolly memory that the Sten was designed to be able to use MP40 magazines, specifically so that the paras could make ready use of captured supplies. Perhaps just a fantasy, or a specific ariborne modification... Or it might have been the other way round: the boxes for the Sten might have been specifically incompatible so as not to hand Jerry ready-made gear if the paras ended up captured.

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No one is at "citation needed". This isn't a court of law. People are free to make up their own minds about my comment about the reuse of captured weaponry. And, the enemies likely reaction to it.

As I said it was an old memory, which I may, or may not have mis-remembered. My copy of "Overlord" is dog-eared, and the pages are brown and crinkled. You either have a photographic memory or an electronic version of it. If I didn't read it there then I read somewhere else a LONG time ago.

As for a picture being "posed" and therefore being untrue. Recreations were posed for the camera, it doesn't prevent what was being recreated from having actually happened. "Stalingrad" "Torgau" etc etc

Also, what you call a "very strong assertion", is known where I come from, as an "off the cuff remark made after an evening on the ale". I'd leave it at that.

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I suggest you find some other way to entertain yourself if you want to last around here.

I was hoping the ;) would do it this time.

Disclaimer: I am a great fan of the game since CMBO and am still playing it daily despite his serious shortcomings and the criminal business model ;) ;) ;)

Thompsons don't use clips.

"Hoobler returned and began to prepare for the patrol. He put on his wool knit cap, rubbed dirt into his face and on the back of his hand, and borrowed a Thompson from little Mack of the mortar squad. Filling his pocket with CLIPS of bullets, he tried to keep up a running chatter, but his voice broke, his hands trembled and he began to stutter. It was the first time I had ever seen him show fear and I admired him very much for forcing himself to go along."

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This isn't a court of law.

If you're just shooting the breeze, then sure.

If you are attempting to advocate a change in the game, then the required standard of proof is a little higher than "I think I saw a photo, and I've seen one in a museum! I might have read a book once, too!"

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Also, what you call a "very strong assertion", is known where I come from, as an "off the cuff remark made after an evening on the ale". I'd leave it at that.

I wondered could it simply be a lack of good ale there, but a quick check revealed New Zealand ranks 21st in per capita beer consumption. :eek: Maybe they just take their beer drinking too seriously.

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Silence dropped like a veil over the field. Suddenly, from behind the shot up jeep, a small, querulous, feminine-sounding voice could be heard saying, "hey you guys, is the V3 upgrade worth $10?...".

Brooklyn suddenly straightened. His head snapped towards the mewling sounds coming from behind the jeep. The vein pulsated. Mitch exchanged a look with Kansas. Brooklyn quickly strode towards the jeep, BAR twitching from side to side. Mitch gave Kansas a "follow me" head movement. Kansas nodded. The two of them raced towards Brooklyn who was nearing the jeep.

Gus noticed all of this. He gave a sharp elbow to O'Hara, who was just drinking a great swallow from his whisky filled canteen. The jab caused O'Hara to splutter and cough. With a glare, he asked, "What's the meaning of that"? Gus simply nodded in the direction of the other three. O'Hara understood immediately. He replaced his canteen and moved off in trail. Gus looked at Lady's Man and fng, nodded towards the jeep and Brooklyn, and they all moved off.

"Well, what have we here?", roared Brooklyn as he rounded the hood. The sight of the quivering, overweight, rear-echelon headquarters type filled him with rage. A rage reflected in his voice. And, more so, in the white-knuckled clench his fists had on his weapon.

Kansas quickly joined in. "Hey", he said, "I think it's our turn, Brooklyn." Mitch nodded.

The fat man on the ground kicked his heels in the dirt in a fruitless attempt to get away. Brooklyn merely stepped on his sleeve and stopped him.

Mitch spoke up. "Yeah, I think I want to take care of this."

Brooklyn looked from one to the other. "You mean, you guys are willing to pitch in"?

"Sure", Mitch said, "you do most of the work. Let us do this. You take a break."

O'Hara and the rest surrounded them, forming a wall around the mewling man on the ground and Brooklyn, Kansas, and Mitch.

"Yeah, I'd like that", said Brooklyn. "Guys like this. They're the reason why The Kid bought it."

"Don't you worry about it", said Kansas. "This guy'll get what he deserves. We'll see to it. Right, guys?" He made eye contact with the rest. They understood.

"Sure. That'd be great" stated Brooklyn.

O'Hara said, "C'mon, Brooklyn, let's go over here while Kansas takes care of this."

Brooklyn's head sank. He seemed to shrink into himself. The muzzle of the BAR slowly dropped till it pointed towards the ground. He nodded to himself, as if agreeing to the outcome of some sort of an internal debate. Looking up, he said to O'Hara, "Sure. Let's go. I'd like that." The vein was no longer visible.

Kansas heaved a sigh of relief. He exchanged glances with Mitch. This man's life would be saved.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Stunned, Kansas spun around! The mewling lickspittle was dead. Blood pumped out of the pulped mass which had once been his head. In disbelief, Kansas looked at fng, who stood there, smoking .45 in his hand. Fng looked around and said, "Now you guys know you don't have to worry about me. I can do the dirty work."

Ken I would bow at your far superior ability to relate a tale, but the hole in my head prevents that. Would a little blood dribbled on tng's boot do?

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If you're just shooting the breeze, then sure.

If you are attempting to advocate a change in the game, then the required standard of proof is a little higher than "I think I saw a photo, and I've seen one in a museum! I might have read a book once, too!"

I don't see how my original comment was in any way "attempting to advocate a change in the game". I quite clearly used the words "can't be replicated in the game". NOT "I want to see it replicated in the game". Perhaps being from Venus you have trouble understanding English.

To be honest I do think that this matter should be closed for the benefit of other forum members as I suggested in my last posting.

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I wondered could it simply be a lack of good ale there, but a quick check revealed New Zealand ranks 21st in per capita beer consumption. :eek: Maybe they just take their beer drinking too seriously.

Haha... Being from Limeyland I don't know anything about New Zealand beers. Are there any worth drinking?

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"Hoobler returned and began to prepare for the patrol. He put on his wool knit cap, rubbed dirt into his face and on the back of his hand, and borrowed a Thompson from little Mack of the mortar squad. Filling his pocket with CLIPS of bullets, he tried to keep up a running chatter, but his voice broke, his hands trembled and he began to stutter. It was the first time I had ever seen him show fear and I admired him very much for forcing himself to go along."

"Clips of bullets?" If that's not a weird phrase then I don't know what is, in relation to the Thompson. Considering the two main weapons in the American arsenal that used the .45 cal round didn't use clips, it's probably just another example of someone using really bad terminology.

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"Clips of bullets?" If that's not a weird phrase then I don't know what is, in relation to the Thompson. Considering the two main weapons in the American arsenal that used the .45 cal round didn't use clips, it's probably just another example of someone using really bad terminology.

You should tell Webster he doesnt know what he is writing about. He was 21 back then. If he is still alive I guess he is much less dangerous today. Dont want you to get Brooklyned. Wait, let me think a moment ... ;)

I find two explanations for this terminolgy.

Perhaps Paratroopers dug in on the frontline didnt care too much about the semantic implications of a spring or Hoobler took the SMG as a secondary weapon making his actions even more "absurd".

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"Clips of bullets?" If that's not a weird phrase then I don't know what is, in relation to the Thompson. Considering the two main weapons in the American arsenal that used the .45 cal round didn't use clips, it's probably just another example of someone using really bad terminology.

I won't dispute that in the world of über-grogness you are utterly correct. However, I note that since as far back as I can remember, non-experts have nearly always referred to ejectable magazines as "clips". This may be as wrong as referring to all automatic weapons as "machine guns", but in my eyes at least is considerably less egregious.

Michael

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Kansas looked down at the pulped mess at his feet. He knew that, this time, there was no covering it up, even if the rear-echelon type had probably deserved it. He sighed, pushed his helmet back, and locked eyes with Mitch. Mitch looked ready to say something.

Suddenly, the corpse coughed. A gob of semi-coagulated blood flew up and struck Mitch in his just-opened mouth. Mitch heaved and bent over, swearing. Kansas knew that corpses often adjusted in the moments after death, but coughing up bloody phlegm was something new, even to him.

Then the corpse groaned.

At the same time, Mitch turned around, wiping his arm across his mouth, and said, "Damn. That's the first time blood tasted so sweet."

Stunned, the pair watched as the corpse lifted his arm, and shoved his perforated helmet off, revealing more pulpy bloody mass. Mitch vomited.

The corpse slowly felt his own pulped head with an exploratory hand. He scooped some of the brain mass up and slowly drew it towards his opened mouth. Kansas looked on in horror, as did the rest. When the corpse smeared the mass into his mouth, the others started puking with Mitch. And when the corpse slowly chewed his own scooped flesh with evident relish, even Kansas couldn't take it any more and lost the meager contents of his stomach.

The corpse slowly sat up and used both hands to wipe the mess off his head. Holding out two handfuls of the crimson mess, he asked, "Do you guys want some?" Mitch screamed and ran off.

Kansas stared. The corpse was looking right at him. In a shaking voice, Kansas stammered, "H-h-h-how? What is this?"

The corpse, sitting upright, replied, "Fresh jelly donuts. They're good. Here."

"You keep jelly donuts in your helmet?", Kansas asked.

"Sure," the former corpse replied, "My helmet is too large and I don't have a liner. The only way I can keep from having it rattle around is to put some padding in. Jelly donuts are perfect. The sugar coating keeps them stuck in place, and the filling provides padding. I always start my day with a fresh dozen in place. HQ has its perks."

Kansas could only stare, mouth agape.

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"Clips of bullets?" If that's not a weird phrase then I don't know what is, in relation to the Thompson. Considering the two main weapons in the American arsenal that used the .45 cal round didn't use clips, it's probably just another example of someone using really bad terminology.

It's worth remembering that the vast majority of WWII soldiers were not professional warfighters, but rather men who had been e.g., farmers, stock clerks, bus drivers just a few months before entering combat. They might have been taught the technical difference between a mag and a clip in basic, but that doesn't mean they considered the distinction particularly important and honored it in their word usage.

If you read actual period interviews, you'll find all sorts of technically incorrect terminology spoken by GIs. I have definitely heard "I emptied the entire clip into him," or "I loaded a fresh clip," when referring to a Thompson, even though the weapon technically uses a detachable magazine rather than a clip.

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Kansas looked down at the pulped mess at his feet. He knew that, this time, there was no covering it up, even if the rear-echelon type had probably deserved it. He sighed, pushed his helmet back, and locked eyes with Mitch. Mitch looked ready to say something.

Suddenly, the corpse coughed. A gob of semi-coagulated blood flew up and struck Mitch in his just-opened mouth. Mitch heaved and bent over, swearing. Kansas knew that corpses often adjusted in the moments after death, but coughing up bloody phlegm was something new, even to him.

Then the corpse groaned.

At the same time, Mitch turned around, wiping his arm across his mouth, and said, "Damn. That's the first time blood tasted so sweet."

Stunned, the pair watched as the corpse lifted his arm, and shoved his perforated helmet off, revealing more pulpy bloody mass. Mitch vomited.

The corpse slowly felt his own pulped head with an exploratory hand. He scooped some of the brain mass up and slowly drew it towards his opened mouth. Kansas looked on in horror, as did the rest. When the corpse smeared the mass into his mouth, the others started puking with Mitch. And when the corpse slowly chewed his own scooped flesh with evident relish, even Kansas couldn't take it any more and lost the meager contents of his stomach.

The corpse slowly sat up and used both hands to wipe the mess off his head. Holding out two handfuls of the crimson mess, he asked, "Do you guys want some?" Mitch screamed and ran off.

Kansas stared. The corpse was looking right at him. In a shaking voice, Kansas stammered, "H-h-h-how? What is this?"

The corpse, sitting upright, replied, "Fresh jelly donuts. They're good. Here."

"You keep jelly donuts in your helmet?", Kansas asked.

"Sure," the former corpse replied, "My helmet is too large and I don't have a liner. The only way I can keep from having it rattle around is to put some padding in. Jelly donuts are perfect. The sugar coating keeps them stuck in place, and the filling provides padding. I always start my day with a fresh dozen in place. HQ has its perks."

Kansas could only stare, mouth agape.

You couldn't possibly know this, but I just finished Stryker:The Siege of Sadr City last night. Good read - but at one point on patrol they come across a dead donkey and it is moving and making noise. Gross but funny scene as these guys are into zombie stuff - movies, games etc. it ends up being a feral dog that has gotten stuck inside and had to chew it's way out. This is after they have stepped back and thumbed weapons off safety.

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^^^

Oh, oh, oh!...totally disgusting. You post that nastiness after I've brought you back from the beyond? Foul...in a cool way.

Well I am a deadhead so coming back from the dead is not necessarily what I would have wanted. Jeerrrrrrryyyyyy. Heh heh no I was not referring to German troops

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