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


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settings: 1939 campaign

Axis A.I: Expert ( +1 experience)

War in Siberia: off

Fog of war: off

Premise: An epic, alternate history of WWII, A tragi-comedy, Monty-Python meets The Man in the High Castle.

This is an open game and an open-ended project. It's most definately a labor of love. Anyone on this forum is welcome to make suggestions or jump into the story anytime they like. Just let us know who you want to be and why. Thanks for reading. Peace out smile.gif

The players to date:

ZERES: Combat simulation and A.A.R (Narration)

British and Free French General Staff

Free French Envoys ( the government in exile)

JERSEY JOHN: Fascists, Whereever they may be


CARL VAN MANNERHEIM: Churchill and his entourage

Mannerheim and his aid

The Stavka (Stalin, Molotov, Zhukov etc.)

Tojo's boys (The Japanese)

RIKHAN: Roosevelt ( The voice of reason )

CORTEZ: Yugoslavian Rebels

BRADY: Romania

Chapter One

FALL 39:


(Paris circa 1939, Shouldn't you guys be manning your battlestations?)

General Billote is a lonely man and he's drinking too much. Why won't anyone listen to him? The Germans have built a war machine that he knows is unstoppable and isn't it obvious by now that Hitler is going to use it?

He's actually in a drunken stuper in a Paris cafe when he hears the news. The Germans have invaded Poland...and they are rolling over all resistance with the same tactics that he had been begging Strategic Command to implement. That's enough to sober him up. He springs into action.

He throws on his coat and rushes across town to his Left Bank apartment. His phone is already ringing. "General Billote, we are now technically at war with Nazi Germany....get your ass down to Headquarters".

"But sir", he says, "We don't have an HQ!" Who are these people running this country, he's thinking, what a bunch of morons.

" Billote, why are you always such a defeatist. Pull yourself together. We've got a war to win." "the German soldier is no match for a Frenchman. Besides we can't seem to get any of our other Generals on the phone!"

" Well, if your finally ready to take my advice, I suggest you ask the Belgians for military access to their positions behind the Rhine."" If they are willing to attack Poland so savagely, just imagine what they will do to the Belgians."

"No can do Billote"." They are merde (ing?) their pants and kissing Nazi derierre."

" Well then inform the British that we will occupy those positions by force, if we must. WE NEED THOSE POSITIONS!"

" Whatever you say General...The Belgians are certainly no match for our fine French soldiers." (The voice on the other end of the line chuckles)..."It won't be pretty.... will it Bellote?"

"I refer you to a memo from my general staff to the Dept of Defence, dated Jan 16'th, 1938, which states in part: " In conclusion, a proper defence of the homeland will fail unless the Maginot Line is extended to include reinforced Belgian positions behind the Rhine." "Ect....Blah Blah Blah"."Static defences are useless against combined-arms and fast, mechanized forces".....He paused....Why was he wasting his breath on this urchin? The battle of France had most likely already been lost. "Sir, I must get to work immediately."

" That's the spirit general...Just think in three months we will be marching through the streets of Berlin victorious!!!"



Billote hangs up the phone. He needs to take a shower.....but there's no time for that. He searches through his closet and finally finds his uniform. He dusts it off. He calls for his chauffer and heads down to the Paris Army Corp Operations. It's not an HQ but it will have to do for now.

He starts making phone calls. His analysis of the current situation;

1) The British have hunted down two wolf packs in the Northern Atlantic and competely destroyed them.

2) Their Med Naval squadron has begun moving toward Malta.

3) They have operated the "Maltese Falcons" to Southern England in anticipation of a German move to the West."God", Bellote thinks, " If we only had their leadership!"

3) The British have moved their Gibraltor Corp to Malta.

4) The British have requested French troops to help defend Gibraltor.

5)The Poles are fighting like hell but both of their armies were destroyed in the initial onslaught. They were down to four crippled corps, and one of those was completely surrounded.

Bellote gives the French Air Force Command a call:

" Sir, it seems that most of our planes have been sabotaged by terrorists"

Bellote looses his mind with rage. "WHO ARE THESE FANATICS!"" THEY HIDE IN CAVES!!!"

" Disband the unit Liutenant." " Those planes would have been useless against the experienced pilots of the German's anyway." Bellote paused to gather his thoughts...he had to gather some reserves that were out of the range of Goering's tactical bombers... " Gather what supplies and materials you can from the air-base and move them to secure warehouses in Brest."" We may need them later."

Time to give the Navy a ring:

" Sir, one of our Battleships seems to have been sabotaged."

The General holds his head in his hands in disgust.

TRAITORS!!! There were traitors among them! Salvage what you can and send the cruisers south toward the med. I have been given supreme command of all Loyal French forces. Send our Med Battle Squadron to rendevous with the British... British intelligence has informed us that the Italians are up to to something."

The General makes his way back to his apartment. His mood was black. "There are soldiers in my beloved French Military that want to get in bed with the Fascists." "But Who?" The whole thing was a rotten mess. The only thing he could do was form an "HQ" with his most trusted officers. Cull all the units in the entire French Military of their best, most loyal men and form a few units he could trust. Billote sat alone in his opulent dining room. The Supreme Commander of the French military drank a bottle of wine and he fought back the tears. France, as he knew better than anyone else, was facing doom.

[ December 20, 2002, 12:48 AM: Message edited by: Zeres ]

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Hitler and British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain. Already a very sick man, Chamberlain hoped he might avert war but gave Hitler too much confidence in his concessions.

Too late in taking a stand with Poland and France, Chamberlain, more than any other single man other than Hitler himself, is traditionally blamed with setting the stage for WW II. But there is much merit in his belief that the "Empire" would collapse after a major war, and in that, at least, he was correct.

An elderly and frail gentleman in 1938, he made his first air flight to meet Hitler at Munich.


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

Hermann Goering, holder of many dubious posts in the Reich -- founder of the Gestapo, Chief Minister of Justice for Bavaria, etc., Reichsmarshal and, if nothing else was going on, Supreme Commander of The Luftwaffe.

A lover of model trains, hunting and animals, he was not above sharing the spotlight with lions, or if necessary, his daughter!




[ November 14, 2002, 01:26 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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Chapter Two

Fall 39/ Winter 1940

When General Bellote looks back on that Sept morning, when the war started, it seems like a good day compared to the days that followed. Dark days indeed.

He began setting up a proper headquarters the day after the German Blitz of Poland. It was no easy task, the reality that France was at war had not sunk in on the streets of Paris. The people were still in shock. Despite his alcohol abuse, he had a keen analytical mind. But he felt outmatched. "The Germans have better generals than me" he thought. " I can't even keep my own countrymen from destroying my battleships and sabotaging my airforce!"

But he channelled that anger and disgust into a plan to take some pressure off the Polish forces. He felt empathy for them, at least they were going down swinging. He also had begun secret negociations with the Brittish Government. They were concerned about "Fascist unrest" in France and felt that Belotte was the only person they could trust to fight the Germans. The Belgians continued to stonewall all political overtures. A decision they would soon have cause to regret. The French requested Brittish diplomatic assistance. Together they began turning the screws on Belgium. A surprise attack on Belgium was hastily drawn up, if all else failed. The Germans had left their Western Frontier almost completely unguarded. It was an opportunity that was hard to resist under the circumstances.

Churchill was a hawk and considered the Belgian stance "leaning towards the Germans" as a threat to national security. He wanted to send a message to other countries that were considering joining the Axis. Bellote had developed a good reparte with his Brittish liason Gen. "Montgomery". He called him "Monty" affectionately. Aristocrats, apparently, have a mutual appreciation society that defies nationality! The Brittish agreed to commit all available air assets and an expeditionary corp to Belotte's proposed plan.



When diplomatic overtures had failed and the Poles were on their last legs, a difficult consensus was reached between Britian and France. The attack was planned secretly and took Belgium, Germany and the World completely by surprise. America sent a formal protest to both the Brittish and the French Governments ( what was left of it...traitorous dogs). The attack commenced before Bellote had completely set up his new headquarters. He hoped for the best and planned for the worst.

Hoping for the best:

Belotte moved the Paris Corp to the Southern positions on the Maginot Line. The officers of the Paris Corp were behaving strangely. He couldn't put his finger on it. They were'nt likely to see action down there and it freed up a whole Army Group. "Two birds with one stone"...He thought. Bellote was able to shift his lines and extend them Northward...toward the Belgian border.

He attacked Belgium with one, hastily organized Army Group. The Brittish Expeditionary Forces were already in boats, off the coast of Northern France. Bellote wished he had the resources to attempt a more ambitious plan. But the attack was just a "feignt" to make the Germans completely loose their heads. "No General, in their right mind, wants to fight on two fronts simultanously." He almost had to laugh as the thought came to him. "As if we are dealing with an enemy that are in their right minds!"

The Brittish bombed Antwerp and German Luftwaffe interceptors were outnumbered and caught completely by surprise! They tried to intercept and got knocked down to almost half their original operational strength by the two R.A.F fighter groups. Monty sent Belotte a telegram : "From England with love chaps!!!!"

Preparing for the worst:

Bellote had consolidated all his best troops and officers into the 1'st army, he organized his HQ and the 1'st army in Brest. These troops were his best and his brightest. His strategic reserves. Out of the range of German airfields and well organized. Supplies were stockpiled in warehouses at the port.

His loyal officers managed to track down the Fascist sympathizers that had damaged the French battleships. They were put to death by firing squad. "What can I do with these traitors but kill them?" That didn't mean Bellote was happy about it...It's horrifying what war makes people capable of.....Particularly when they are fascist...He sighed.


"Guy's, can we try to wrap this up by 5:30?""My wife wants me back home in Berlin for dinner at 8:00" smile.gif

There were a few days of extreme tension as the world waited for the German response. It was swift, brutal and merciless. The Third French Army in Belgium was immediately cut off from it's supply line.... A Panzer Division, a second Luftwaffe Air Group and a devious German general named Bock were operated to Northern Germany. The unorganized "dazed" Belgian corp near Antwerp were evacuated to Germany.

Bellote agonized over his men trapped in Belgium. But there was nothing he could do to help them. He couln't get enough tanks together to counter-attack. He was depressed and drinking more than ever. The Brittish landed, The Panzers went right around them... The French Third Army was encircled.


Abandoned French Positions

(Maginot Line)

The French government panicked and ordered the Maginot Line abandoned against Bellote's wishes. The Canadian's had declared war on Germany after the Polish Blitz and a Canadian army group was on the way but was diverted to England. There was no need to magnify the scope of this botched, military action at this point. ( At least that was the Brittish perspective.)

The French, on the other hand, had just been taught a harsh lesson in modern mechanized warfare. And the worst was yet to come. It was time for damage control. Billote had to salvage what he could before the burning house came crashing down upon his head.

He didn't want those "Maginot Line" troops in Paris because he had suspicions some of them were fascist sympathizers. He could see the writting on the wall. Those bastards in Paris were going to cut a deal.



All Bellote had succeeded in doing was to buy the Poles a little more time. The Poles fought like hell but surrendered in November. They fought to the last man. Bellote wished he had more of those kind of men. He still hadn't found time to take a shower.

The German's paused, organized their forces on the Western Front and dismantled Poland and France at the same time. The B.E.F fought them tooth and nail, loosing 90% of their strength. The last weary, battle-worn survivors evacuated to Bordeux.

And then........Italy gleefully declared war on France. Ahhhh, the euphoria of winning a rigged card-game! But Monty and Bellote had seen this coming and had a little surprise for pizza-face!

They jumped the Southern Italian fleet with combined Naval Forces and beat them to a bloody pulp. The Brit's had already sent the "Maltese Falcons" back to Malta. And now the Brittish Gibraltor Corp was in a transport off the coast of Italy. Hitler must have been fuming!!!



Meanwhile the French Algerian Corp, who we're loyal to Bellote, were helping hold down the fort in Gibraltor. Two additional Brittish Carrier Groups and a Battleship Group were just about to Gibraltor....Just in case. As it turned out almost all the French Navy remained loyal to Bellote. Was there really any other French leader left to believe in but him?


GEN BILLOTE (saluting): "Well, They can't say I didn't warn them that we needed more than three tanks!"

Bellote was now in a position he never could have imagined. The Brittish and all freedom loving French people now considered Billote the last, best hope for a Free France. The 1'st Army and his officers declared him the "True Leader of France". Belotte had little in common with Julius Ceaser. He didn't ask for the honour. But he wanted revenge on the traitors that had sold, his beloved, France out. He would never see his beautiful Paris apartment again... Those Vichy bastards were probably looting his precious wine celler while he was being declared Leader of France in Exile. He boarded a transport with his most loyal followers, The 1'st Army and arrived in England the following morning. The B.E.F evacuated Bourdeux on the same day.

The Brittish Commonwealth recognized his government immediately. And America followed after the "dirty deal" was sealed in Paris. But relations between Billote's governemt in exile and the Americans was strained at best. World opinion on the surprise attack on Belgium was overwhelmingly negative. France, as the world had always known it, was no more. It was the darkest day of Bellote's life....and he didn't have his wine to drink this time. It was Febuary 1940.

[ November 07, 2002, 06:39 AM: Message edited by: Zeres ]

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"The unprovoked aggression of Poland and France upon the Reich and it's neighbors, and their contemptable effort to destroy the Aaryan Race, shall not go unpunished!" :mad:


--- ---

Later that evening Goebells' propaganda ministry finished editing film footage of Dutch and Belgian refugees with their wagons and bikes flowing toward Germany and "freedom."


--- ---

Other German newsreels show Belgium's King Leopold the Third in field uniform. In some he is seen with wehrmacht advisers inspecting military hospitals near the front.


Queen Wilhemina of Holland, whose country was also invaded to protect the French flank, is distraught, telling a German interviewer, "We are very confused and deeply upset by all this --we considered the French and British to be our friends and --"


The German interviewer cuts in sympathetically asking about German aid and she sobs.

"Yes, the German people have been wonderful in helping us, evacuating many of our wounded and, despite being involved in their own war, they have sent troops and supplies. The peaceful Dutch thank the Fuhrer and the kind citizens of the Reich."

Photos of the two displaced monarchs in the same vehicle withdrawing to Germany are also taken.


What is not shown, however, is defeated and demoralized Belgian and Dutch troops, without weapons, streaming en-masse passed a trickle of German reinforcements, often single infantrymen among the mobs of defeated, grimly going against the great tide, making their way to the front.


Organizing a dogged resistance with scant German infantry units and rallied Low Landers, is a general of high regard in the Wehrmacht, Walter Model.


Technically promoted, he will command fewer troops -- at least at first -- in Belgium and Holland than he commanded in Poland.

Before departing, his former commander, Gerd von Runstedt leads him out of earshot in a pleasant stroll.

"I'm sorry my boy, it's a thankless job you're getting and you were my finest corps commander. Still, they asked me to recommend someone --"

"And I'm honored, herr Generaloberst!"

"Yes, yes, but judgeing by the numbers you're commanding, it's a job more befitting a corporal than a general officer. How appropriate it's a corporal who's sending you!"

There's an uneasy silence. Even as a generalleutnant Model was unaccustomed to such brazen disrespect for the Fuhrer. Perhaps that was okay for Prussian aristocrats like von Runstedt and von Bock, but he was not of their class, nor of their rank, and it seemed unfair of the senior officer to make such a remark even in private.

"I ought to have close to --"

"Yes, yes, but only if you count the Dutch and Belgians, which I advise you not to do. Most of those units are already routed."

"I wasn't told of that!"

"It was being saved as a surprise, I suppose."

Runstedt smiled, almost grandfatherly, and extended his right hand. "Don't mind me, my lad, it's just an old man's melancholy, nothing more." Model felt relieved and thought 'a strong grip for anyone, but especially for a man called out of retirement!'

"Dig in, my boy, we'll be finished here quite soon and winter is approaching. Before Spring we'll be there in stregnth so don't be a hero, keep falling back and digging in again, even if you need do it all the way to the Rhine. And for pity sake don't allow yourself to overrun."

"I won't."

"That's the spirit. Mark my words, lad, they'll attack like all fury for a while, then they'll run out of steam. They always do, those Frenchmen, and they have no fight in them this time."

"Thank you, I'll remember that."

"Yes, but also remember that the same can be said of our Dutch and Belgian allies!"

[ November 09, 2002, 10:44 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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" When I indicated a fornight ago, that France may sucumb to the temptations of treachary, no one wouldve believed waht they would do, Yet, at Four o'clock this morning, Billote attacked, and invaded belgium. This came as no surprise to me. For I gave clear Warning, to her majesty, queen of Belgium, that France, may indeed attack."

-Excerpt- Winston S. Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty, speech to house of commons, following France's gangster action.



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A young Hitler flirting before he decided it didn't fit his image.


An even younger Hitler being released from his short stay at Landsberg Prison where, together with Rudolf Hess, he wrote "Mein Kampf."


Evolving quickly into "Der Fuhrer."



[ November 06, 2002, 11:22 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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Chapter Three

Spring 1940:

Billote was greeted in England with open arms. Monty met him at the docks. Both of them were in a bleak mood. The B.E.F were coming off the ships....It was a sorry sight, they had lost nine out of every ten men. The Belgian gambit had been a fiasco and they felt responsible. Monty shook hands with Billote warmly. "Glad that you made it chap".

Billote was trying to find the right words for the moment. The 1'st army was pouring out of ships...They we're fresh faced and green and had seen no action in France. A strange feeling of guilt was coming over the general when he compared the condition of the French to the rag-tag state of the Brittish remnants. All that Brittish blood spilled in the name of French soveriegnty. It was a difficult moment.

" Monty, you were the only one who helped us when we needed it the most. And for that I will always be in your debt."" For what it's worth, my forces are at your command."

" Well we're going to need them. The Germans have begun round the clock bombing". "Our air defences are inadequete". " The remnants of the R.A.F have evacuated north, out of German range." "We're in shambles, most of our command structure has been completely destroyed."" They have sunk an entire Brittish Battleship Group"." We put it in Gillingham, hoping the guns would help in the defence"." Blunder after blunder". " If we don't put something brilliant together, Hitler and his Italian lapdog are going to be having tea in Buckingham Palace by the end of the month".


There was an air-raid going on the night they reached London by military convoy. The generals were hustled into a secure underground command center where bizarre transmissions were coming in from the Med.


A Brittish officer saluted Belotte, He was holding a sealed message from French Naval units in the Med. "hmmmm", he thought, Admiral Rambeau. It had come in two hours before it was handed to him.

General Belotte ( Supreme Commander of the Free French):

Second naval engagement has commenced. We asked the Brittish if we could have the honour of the first shot at the Italian sea-devils. They have complied with our request. If I don't get through this...Carry on the fight to the bitter end. The prayers and blessings of all true Frenchmen are with you.


The French battleship Richelieu before the battle ( Man, what a beautiful boat!)

The bunker was in chaos. A massive naval engagement had begun. It carried on through the next day. The Brittish begged Belotte to take a shower....it was hot and crowded down there. He complied. He found it refreshing but couldn't understand why the Brittish didn't seem to care for hot water. Reports came in all night and through the next day.

But the reports were good, two Italian battleship groups completely destroyed. The Loyal French naval forces had consisted of two cruiser groups and one battleship group. One Cruiser group was lost ( God rest their souls). The French battleship group was beatup but limping back to Gibraltor. And Rambeau's flagship squadron, the Strasbourg, was still at half strengh. He had made it! The Brittish had faired even better, not loosing one Fleet, though some were badly damaged. With no carrier based aircraft, The Italian Navy had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. They had been crushed!!! They had one battered Battleship Group left and a few leaky subs trying to limp back to Venice.....The combined allied fleet was well screened with cruisers and superior Allied Naval doctrine had carried the day.

The mood in the bunker was upbeat when a coded message came in from the Brittish Marines ( The Gibraltor garrison) that had been drifting around in the Med hoping for an opportunity to pounce. Monty huddled in the corner with his staff officers who were decoding the message. The room erupted in cheers and victory signs!!! Pizza face had made a terrible blunder... He had left Bari ungarrisoned and the Brittish Marines had landed and taken the port! Finally something to cheer about!!! Monty sauntered over to Belotte and put him in a bear hug.

" I'd say this would be a good time for a little spot of brandy, wouldn't you say Belly?"

" Monsiour, It would be a pleasure"

The Brittish headlines screamed the news of the victory the next day. Churchill made an uplifting speech. Something about "we will fight them on the beaches, we will fight them in the hills?" Monty released a statement that he had renamed the Gibraltor corp to the "F.M.E.F" ( The Fighting Med Expeditionary Force)to honour the bravery of their daring raid. Belotte enjoyed the moment but was already planning his next move. Revenge on the Vichy Traitors who has stolen his country and handed half of it to a mad man.

[ November 07, 2002, 07:22 AM: Message edited by: Zeres ]

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But even the mature Fuhrer, undoubtedly taken unawares, finds time to relax at home with his last mistress, Eva Braun. The household staff and personal secretaries never saw his darker side and genuinely enjoyed his companionship.



[ November 06, 2002, 11:26 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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The fuhrer paced back and forth in his new French chateau. "What do you mean they won't discuss peace terms?" His aides sipped confiscated cherry and thought, 'too sweet, it's the sort of thing that cost them the war.'

Ribbentrop was the first to answer. "Fuhrer, we have put out feelers -- here's one, 'People of Britain, you have fought hard but for an unworthy cause, now that the loathsome Polish and French aggressors have been subdued, freedom loving people like ourselves can once more enjoy the pleasures of peace. We are all Nordic people and should not fight one another.'

The fuhrer nodded approvingly, "And what was their response?"

Rudolf Hess, mimicking Churchill, "We shall fight them on the beaches, we shall fight them in the halls, in the kitchen, even the bathroom!"

Field Marshal von Runstedt nodded, "And those Italian inepts are giving them cause to be encouraged. I did say that, if they joined us, we'd have to send twelve divisions to bail them out. That's looking a conservative figure at the moment." He smiled smuggly and sat back.

The fuhrer twitched with anger and anxiety, but said nothing more.


[ November 06, 2002, 11:16 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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"Despite the recent events in France, and Belgium, and the sustaining of a scar that shall ever be present on the face of our empire, we shall fight on. I have, myself, full confidence that if all do their duty, if nothing is neglected, and if the best arrangements are made, as they are being made, we shall prove ourselves once again able to defend our Island home, to ride out the storm of war, and to outlive the menace of tyranny, if necessary for years, if necessary alone. At any rate, that is what we are going to try to do. That is the resolve of His Majesty's Government-every man of them. That is the will of Parliament and the nation. The British Empire and the French Republic, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death their native soil, aiding each other like good comrades to the utmost of their strength. Even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the Gestapo and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old." -Winston Churchill, following the arrival of French troops on British soil.


[ November 07, 2002, 05:06 PM: Message edited by: Carl Von Mannerheim ]

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With the war in full swing Der Fuhrer finds himself travelling endlessly. A candid shot by Eva Braun catches him in melancholy thought. He asks her to destroy the photo and negative, she says she will, but lies and keeps it.


Between military capmaigns he visits the Reich's major cities and tells of his desire for peace and the warmongering Churchill's refusal to negotiate.


[ November 09, 2002, 06:58 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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Getting back to Berlin was a relief; one can stand only so much of French decadence.

On the first day home Hitler and enterouge viewed a new film from the United States, "The Grapes of Wrath," which the fuhrer enjoyed immensely.


"You want to know what those mutts are about -- there is your answer, it is all in that film. A bunch of half-starved landless nomads, a paradise turned into a desert through the mismanagement of a bunch of fatherless mutts and --"

Hess broke in with a blank, confused expression on his face. "Perhaps if one of us went to see them, talked some sense to them."

The fuhrer straightened, "Talked to who, the Americans? Why would we want to talk with them, they don't even know their own skull measurements!"

The discussion was disrupted with the noisy entrance of Goering, his face rouged and powdered, carrying his jewelled baton and wearing his newest creation, a lavender uniform with rhinestones to be worn only in the presence of party buddies.

"Fuhrer, (a quick, contemptous glance at the others), Toadies -- good day. I have great news that will make us all rejoice."

Goebels looked up attentively, "We are all ears, herr Reichsmarshal."

"And well you should be. Fuhrer, in hotly contested action yesterday my luftwaffe utterly destroyed the British ports of Dover, Bristol, Hampshire, Portsmouth and Plymouth, or whatever they now call those ruins. In doing so my men shot down 700 spitfires and 3000 hurricanes, losing just one Stuka, and that to mechanical problems. A great victory for the Reich!"

Hitler smiled approvingly, "Seven hundred spitfires and 3000 hurricanes --!"

The Reichsmarshal drew back, a bit defensively, "Six hundred and fifty spitfires we are certain of and over two thousand hurricanes! With the loss of only a few odd stukas and Dorniers and Heinkels and Junkers, mostly to foul weather and mechanical breakdown."

Hess stood at attention, "The British are our cousins, it is horrible to have destroyed so many of their cities in a single stroke."

Goering wiped his brow, "Inflicted much confirmed damage upon Dover and shot down five hundred spitfires and over a thousand hurricanes at the cost of only a few hundred old bombers and aging stukas and some --"

Ribbentrop grabbed his attache case, "Surely they will be pleading for peace after this great victory. I will look into it at once."

The Reichsfuhrer seated himself and began mumbling, "Loosed tons of bombs on Dover and shot down at least forty spitfires and fifty hurricanes at a cost of a mere. . .."

Gross Admiral Raeder leaned forward, "Excuse me, herr Reichsmarshal, the accustics in this room are poor and I am not quite clear as to the actual figures. Would it be possible to hear them again? The Kriegsmarine should like to know these things as we are eager to launch Sealowe."

Another American film began playing, a western.

The fuhrer sighed, perhaps he was giving too much credit to John Wayne, but he detected a resemblence, perhaps they were cousins. If only he had the man's skull measurements.

* * * *


* * * *



[ November 13, 2002, 02:52 PM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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An aide of Churchill rushes into the Prime Minister's water chamber.

"Well, how bad was it?" says a naked Churchill.

The aide, averting his eyes, replies, "The attacked Dover sir."

"Well, what were our bloody losses?!" said Churchill.

"The Harbour sustained one casualty, and the Raf lost 1 Spitfire and 3 Hurricanes, all pilots bailed out sucsessfully."

"What was the casualty at the dock? And how many aeroplanes did they lose?" replied Churchill.

"We've found the wreckage of 12 dive bombers, 20 fighters, and 10 bombers around the port sir, with 30 more probable. Oh yes- the dock, well em, we lost a Bait store sir."

"Well, i dont mind, i never really enjoyed fishing, especially at Dover this time of year."

Churchill laughed and continued his bath as the aide left the room.

[ November 01, 2002, 01:03 PM: Message edited by: Carl Von Mannerheim ]

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Goebels wrenched his hands to indicate consternation and bent closer to the microphone:


"That the unfortunate British people should have to endure such suffering due entirely to the gangster Churchill and his fellow scoundrel, Franklin Rosenfeld, is a terrible thing and we do not rejoice in it.


"Why, I have in my hand even now reports on the terrible English suffering; Plymouth, Kaput! Hampshire, Nein! Portsmouthen, Ist Sheister now! And for Dover -- it ist all over!"


He sighed and brushed back a tear, such horror, Nordic fighting Nordic, and for what?


"And what of the loss in brave but misguided British airmen? Just Yesterday it was nine hundred spitfires and four thousand hurricanes that were confirmed, and nobody knows how many attemtemted to seek refuge from Churchill's tyrany in Ireland. But to what result, it was learned by our agents that immediately afterwards the villain Rosenfeld replaced those losses, smuggling in another fifty thousand spitfires and hurricanes built in America in violation of their neutrality claims."


The audience became visably agitated.


"Yes, yes, Rosenfeld is perfectly willing to fight to the last drop of British blood."


The audience, all in uniforms of one sort or another, grew pensive. A matron of the League of Nordic Virgins jumped to her feet, screaming hysterically, "Down with Rosenfeld and America, down with Churchill and --" restrained by fellow virgins and her children, she was led, sobbing from the hall.

Goebles nodded, satisfied, "Yes, our sister is right. Hear our pleas poor misled American dumpkofmenchkin, oust that scoundrel Rosenfeld and his boring wife while you still can."

The audience broke into applause.

"And as for you, my betrayed British friends, why do we continue to fight when we could all be on the same side, inflicting our way of life on other, non aryan sub-human-menchkenmunchkin!"

-- -- --

Hitler and Mussolini listened quietly to the broadcast. When it was over Eva and the staff entered with snacks and switched the channel to a live broadcast of Wagner's lost masterpiece, only recently discovered and revised by maestro Furtwangler, "Liebchkin und Meidchkin in Der Vaterland Nazi Paradise."

Mussonini, despondant till now, perked up. Psuedo Wagner always enlivened him and afterwards he'd always pop a half-dozen aspirin.

"Fuhrer, the Italian people must do somthing to reclaim their tarnished honor."

Adolph nodded. The broadcast began behind them, a quiet melody, not unlike "Way Down Upon The Swanee River," was subtly introduced by the trombone and trumpet sections augmented by brass cannon and tubas.

"Fuhrer, this time tomorrow you will march in our Victory parade on the streets of Zurich!"

The fuhrer nearly dropped his tea and sprang forward, "No Duce, please -- no!"

"And why not, I will not march alone and --"

"I mean, not Zurich. What's wrong with, say, Athens -- why does it have to be Zurich?"

"Furher, it must be Zurich because --"

The color left Adolph's face. "My favorite bankers live in Zurich, understand?"

Il Duce frowned, he was confused. "They can continue living there, that would not be a --"

"No, no, you don't understand -- we wish for Switzerland to remain just as it is, no Italian victory parades, no battles, just coo-coo clocks and chocolates and banks with secret numbers."

Duce frowned. Adolph hated having to rein him in, but sometimes the man was really impossible -- conquer Swizerland, what was wrong with retaking southern Italy instead!

"Benito -- I'm sorry I --"

But Benito turned away, he was really hurt.

An uneasy silence followed, then the Fuhrer had an idea -- yes, Der Fuhrer knew how to cheer up that big bambino, he had something right behind his chair that neihter of them ever tired of.

"Benito -- "


"Don't be mad, Benito."

"Not mad." But he pressed his hand tight against his clenched jaw, like he always did when he was ticked off.

"I got something for you, Benito."

Duce turned slowly, his face opening in happy grin when Adolph reached behind his easy chair and produced the new deluxe head pincers Borman had gotten him.

"Duce, can I please measure your head once more, I think perhaps the guage was off this morning."

"Okay, only not so tight this time."

Benito removed his cap and bent forward. It seemed he became more Nordic with each reading.

"Such a beautiful skull. Perhaps later, after the war, you can have your march through Zurich."

Duce sniffled, "Okay --"

"Now hold still, measurements must be exact."

"Okay, only not so hard with the points, right?"

"That's it, nice and still. Such a lovely beautiful skull -- don't move, Science is a tricky thing and we must be exact."

[ November 09, 2002, 07:58 AM: Message edited by: JerseyJohn ]

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