Post by WarCityDriver on Jul 1, 2016 23:13:11 GMT -5
Welcome one and all, every day I will be posting a new article that has to do with the lore and history around the 500 RP. So without further ado the first one is co written by WarCityDriver and Vasiliy (BTW Welcome to RPing )
When the 22nd Army comprised of the 1st Belgian Army and 7th French Armored Division approached the city of Posen, the sight they are greeted with could be only described as hell on earth. The entire region is craters with body parts strewn around them and small ponds of blood. They can still hear constant fighting from the city center, however the outer city has fallen into Russian hands. They can also tell that there has not been a single building that has been left standing as the city has faced round the clock bombardment. General Arnfried Hoch had ordered the army to relieve the battered 12th Infantry Corps under the command of Captain Fischer (All higher ranking officers dead or MIA after the battle of Warsaw) and once relieved to push the Russian Army out of the region and fortify the city and surrounding area.
The 7th Armored Brigade receives information that a Russian tank column is enroute to the city and according to their intel the 12th is out of all explosives and heavy armaments. Even more surprising is that according to satellite and drone surveillance, the 12th has been fighting with captured Russian weapons. However even the best estimates have placed the once 22,000 strong corps at no more then 1,000 men desperately fighting to keep the 52nd Russian Army Corps occupied and prevent them from advancing into the German industrial sectors. The 7th had strict orders not to let a single tank enter the city or it was highly possible that the 12th would be wiped out, after holding out for over a month and a half when no one expected them to last a week.
As the first Belgian division enters the city, they quickly manage to take out the Russians in the exterior of the city, and as they enter deeper and deeper into the city the scene only gets worse, their are men still sizzling away on tanks and blown up cars, their flesh burned on the steel. As they get closer to the city square there are places where the bodies have stacked up so quickly that they could be used as cover and by the looks of it some have tried. As the advanced regiment approached the city square they find an entire Russian regiment being fired on from every cranny conceivable, they even see a machine gunner firing out of a drainage vent in the street. The leading Belgian brigade opens fire and yells out to the soldiers defending the city first in English then French then German. "We are the 1st Belgian Army... May we speak with your commanding officer?"
A man pulls himself up from one of the pools of blood and takes a snorkeling apparatus off of his mouth and slowly approaches the Belgian Lt. dripping blood all the way, several Belgian soldiers throw up from the smell and appearance of the man as he says. "My name is field Sargent Adrian Pierce, welcome to hell boys. Our commander is currently wounded in sub block A of the escape bunkers, follow me." He says opening a sewer hatch.
The Lt. Looks the man over and sees an English flag on his shoulder and the insignia of the British 132nd tank battalion. He also notices that the patch is that of a private. Though, he is not surprised and the lad did say Field sergeant meaning the rank was appointed on the field and has not been confirmed by High Command. The Lt sighs and steps forward and follows the sergeant with a squad of men. The sergeant guides them through a never ending labyrinth of sewers, stopping every now and again to temporarily disable a trap, say a variety of passcodes in 6 different languages only to reveal sharp shooters and machine gunners in small crevices that the Lt did not see, and occasionally kicking a Russian corps into the sewer slurry.
After about 30 minutes they reach the bunker where the doors open to reveal over 400 wounded men being cared for by a staff no greater then 20, men starving and little left to them but skin and bones, in one corner returning soldiers handing in Russian military clips, ammos, grenades, even saltine crackers they have found to be distributed. In another corner they can see a sergeant showing his squad how to set up an old school trip wire activated trap, but the most noticeable thing was the smell. 400 men with infected wounds, not enough bed pans, on top of being near a sewer has resulted in the worst smell imaginable. It was like you mixed rotten eggs, wet dog, feces, a decaying corpse, and spoiled food then concentrated it and let it loose. The LT feels sorry for the men and is unsure how they have not broken
He sees men in castes sorting the supplies being returned, he sees men with amputated limbs trying to prepare that evenings meal, he sees men laughing and supporting their comrades too sick to stand. Then they spot the man they are looking for: Captain Fischer. He is slowly limping towards them holding his side, being supported by a German paratrooper. When he reaches the Captain, he extends his hand and says "I do apologize about the men not being in top military dress uniforms upon arrival... It appears the Russians liked them too much and decided to borrow them."
The Lt. looks at the Captain's ice cold blue eyes and says extending his hand and shaking it. "My name is Lt. Adolphe ... How... I..." He searches for the words to say, amazed that they are still fighting and that they figured out how to more or less supply themselves with light arms at least. He looks around the room and notices that the men in the room are looking at both of them, almost like watch dogs making sure that no harm comes to their best friend and Foch understands part of it... They trust this man with their lives and respect him, Fock sighs and says "I do apologize... We are here to relieve you from the duty of defending Posen, you are to reground in Luxemburg and recuperate while forming the HQ division of the 6th Specialized division per General Hochs command"
Captain Fischer says "Fair enough... Just remember that if you lose this city myself and my boys will hunt you down, even if we have to follow you to hell... Take good care of her for me..." The Captain's legs give out and the Fallschirmjager soldier catches him. The Lt. Notices that he has a gun shot wound just below where the rib cage ends on his left abdominal. The Lt. sighs and radios to the men above. "Send down all medical personnel... and a few stretchers... lets get these boys out of here."
Within a few minutes the medics arrive and the Captain is brought up to be medevac'd to Berlin for treatment. As Captain Fischer is being carried out on a stretcher, he notices the commander of the French Armor brigade near by, on his radio giving out orders to his lieutenants. He orders his stretcher bearers to bring him over to the Brigade commander. He notices that he's only a Captain like himself, despite that fact that Armored Brigade commanders almost almost a Lt. Colonel or higher. He then recalls how many of the staff officers have been killed and realizes how desperate the situation must be. As Captain Fischer approaches, the Brigade captains sees him and goes to greet him.
"My name is Captain Mathieu Gérald. Are you who I have to thank for keeping this hellhole up for me to fight in?", he says with a heavy French accent.
"That I am. My name is Captain Xavier Fischer, and this is my city. Do not lose it. I told this to the Belgians and I'll tell it to you Frenchmen as well. Lose this city and you'll have me to deal with. Even if High Command gets weak-kneed and tells you to retreat, you just dig in further and don't let the Russians through. That's an order"
Before Captain Gérald can reply that they're the same rank, Captain Fischer orders his stretcher bearers to continue on. Captain Gérald sighs and returns to issuing orders. There is a battle ahead and much to do.
As the 7th takes up positions around the city perimeter, they can hear the guns of the Russian army closing in, and it sounds like a storm bearing down on them. Every man in the brigade checks and rechecks his weapons to make sure they don't fail him at a critical time. Officers are giving orders to platoon leaders, and those leaders are giving rousing speeches to the troops in their command. Large holes are dug into the ground for the tanks to entrench themselves into for cover. The phrase "Hold the line" is echoed throughout the brigade. The 7th have one job to do and they know the fate of the EUF may depend on it. If they retreat here, Germany would suffer a catastrophic blow to it's economy and may never recover, dragging the entire EUF into the grave.
As Russian tanks start to filter in, the French tanks finally open up. Concussive blasts fire so rapidly it just sounds like one long explosion, nicknamed "Drumfire" by veterans of the brigade. Russian tanks can be seen in the distance bursting into flames. After what seems like hours of this, there is a lull in the fighting, and the front goes quiet. Unfortunately for the 7th, this was just the Russian Armored Corps regrouping for another push. A second wave of Russian tanks screams toward the city and again French guns open up on them at range. More tanks are on fire, this time several French tanks have been hit as well, their crews evacuating and picking up small arms and join the Belgians to provide infantry support. For their part, the Belgians are brave and are fighting every bit as fiercely as the French, and the Russians, for that matter.
The fighting continues for hours, although to the troops it seems like days. Time and time again the Russians pull back, regroup, and send another wave in. The sky is black from the smoke of burning tanks. Wounded men can be heard screaming in French, German and, distantly, Russian. Every man in every crew is exhausted, the concussions of the tank fire taking their toll. Infantry officers (the ones still standing) can be seen running up and down the line, shouting encouragement to their men. Finally though, the line goes quiet. At first they think it must be another temporary stop for the Russians to regroup. But as they wait, no further Russians attack. Still, they hold their positions and keep their gun sights towards the front. Finally a call comes down the line to Captain Gérald and he is sure it's High Command telling him to retreat. Instead it appears the Russians can be seen retreating from the city, their armor brigade shattering and missing many tanks. The 7th had held the line and the EUF lives another day.
When the 22nd Army comprised of the 1st Belgian Army and 7th French Armored Division approached the city of Posen, the sight they are greeted with could be only described as hell on earth. The entire region is craters with body parts strewn around them and small ponds of blood. They can still hear constant fighting from the city center, however the outer city has fallen into Russian hands. They can also tell that there has not been a single building that has been left standing as the city has faced round the clock bombardment. General Arnfried Hoch had ordered the army to relieve the battered 12th Infantry Corps under the command of Captain Fischer (All higher ranking officers dead or MIA after the battle of Warsaw) and once relieved to push the Russian Army out of the region and fortify the city and surrounding area.
The 7th Armored Brigade receives information that a Russian tank column is enroute to the city and according to their intel the 12th is out of all explosives and heavy armaments. Even more surprising is that according to satellite and drone surveillance, the 12th has been fighting with captured Russian weapons. However even the best estimates have placed the once 22,000 strong corps at no more then 1,000 men desperately fighting to keep the 52nd Russian Army Corps occupied and prevent them from advancing into the German industrial sectors. The 7th had strict orders not to let a single tank enter the city or it was highly possible that the 12th would be wiped out, after holding out for over a month and a half when no one expected them to last a week.
As the first Belgian division enters the city, they quickly manage to take out the Russians in the exterior of the city, and as they enter deeper and deeper into the city the scene only gets worse, their are men still sizzling away on tanks and blown up cars, their flesh burned on the steel. As they get closer to the city square there are places where the bodies have stacked up so quickly that they could be used as cover and by the looks of it some have tried. As the advanced regiment approached the city square they find an entire Russian regiment being fired on from every cranny conceivable, they even see a machine gunner firing out of a drainage vent in the street. The leading Belgian brigade opens fire and yells out to the soldiers defending the city first in English then French then German. "We are the 1st Belgian Army... May we speak with your commanding officer?"
A man pulls himself up from one of the pools of blood and takes a snorkeling apparatus off of his mouth and slowly approaches the Belgian Lt. dripping blood all the way, several Belgian soldiers throw up from the smell and appearance of the man as he says. "My name is field Sargent Adrian Pierce, welcome to hell boys. Our commander is currently wounded in sub block A of the escape bunkers, follow me." He says opening a sewer hatch.
The Lt. Looks the man over and sees an English flag on his shoulder and the insignia of the British 132nd tank battalion. He also notices that the patch is that of a private. Though, he is not surprised and the lad did say Field sergeant meaning the rank was appointed on the field and has not been confirmed by High Command. The Lt sighs and steps forward and follows the sergeant with a squad of men. The sergeant guides them through a never ending labyrinth of sewers, stopping every now and again to temporarily disable a trap, say a variety of passcodes in 6 different languages only to reveal sharp shooters and machine gunners in small crevices that the Lt did not see, and occasionally kicking a Russian corps into the sewer slurry.
After about 30 minutes they reach the bunker where the doors open to reveal over 400 wounded men being cared for by a staff no greater then 20, men starving and little left to them but skin and bones, in one corner returning soldiers handing in Russian military clips, ammos, grenades, even saltine crackers they have found to be distributed. In another corner they can see a sergeant showing his squad how to set up an old school trip wire activated trap, but the most noticeable thing was the smell. 400 men with infected wounds, not enough bed pans, on top of being near a sewer has resulted in the worst smell imaginable. It was like you mixed rotten eggs, wet dog, feces, a decaying corpse, and spoiled food then concentrated it and let it loose. The LT feels sorry for the men and is unsure how they have not broken
He sees men in castes sorting the supplies being returned, he sees men with amputated limbs trying to prepare that evenings meal, he sees men laughing and supporting their comrades too sick to stand. Then they spot the man they are looking for: Captain Fischer. He is slowly limping towards them holding his side, being supported by a German paratrooper. When he reaches the Captain, he extends his hand and says "I do apologize about the men not being in top military dress uniforms upon arrival... It appears the Russians liked them too much and decided to borrow them."
The Lt. looks at the Captain's ice cold blue eyes and says extending his hand and shaking it. "My name is Lt. Adolphe ... How... I..." He searches for the words to say, amazed that they are still fighting and that they figured out how to more or less supply themselves with light arms at least. He looks around the room and notices that the men in the room are looking at both of them, almost like watch dogs making sure that no harm comes to their best friend and Foch understands part of it... They trust this man with their lives and respect him, Fock sighs and says "I do apologize... We are here to relieve you from the duty of defending Posen, you are to reground in Luxemburg and recuperate while forming the HQ division of the 6th Specialized division per General Hochs command"
Captain Fischer says "Fair enough... Just remember that if you lose this city myself and my boys will hunt you down, even if we have to follow you to hell... Take good care of her for me..." The Captain's legs give out and the Fallschirmjager soldier catches him. The Lt. Notices that he has a gun shot wound just below where the rib cage ends on his left abdominal. The Lt. sighs and radios to the men above. "Send down all medical personnel... and a few stretchers... lets get these boys out of here."
Within a few minutes the medics arrive and the Captain is brought up to be medevac'd to Berlin for treatment. As Captain Fischer is being carried out on a stretcher, he notices the commander of the French Armor brigade near by, on his radio giving out orders to his lieutenants. He orders his stretcher bearers to bring him over to the Brigade commander. He notices that he's only a Captain like himself, despite that fact that Armored Brigade commanders almost almost a Lt. Colonel or higher. He then recalls how many of the staff officers have been killed and realizes how desperate the situation must be. As Captain Fischer approaches, the Brigade captains sees him and goes to greet him.
"My name is Captain Mathieu Gérald. Are you who I have to thank for keeping this hellhole up for me to fight in?", he says with a heavy French accent.
"That I am. My name is Captain Xavier Fischer, and this is my city. Do not lose it. I told this to the Belgians and I'll tell it to you Frenchmen as well. Lose this city and you'll have me to deal with. Even if High Command gets weak-kneed and tells you to retreat, you just dig in further and don't let the Russians through. That's an order"
Before Captain Gérald can reply that they're the same rank, Captain Fischer orders his stretcher bearers to continue on. Captain Gérald sighs and returns to issuing orders. There is a battle ahead and much to do.
As the 7th takes up positions around the city perimeter, they can hear the guns of the Russian army closing in, and it sounds like a storm bearing down on them. Every man in the brigade checks and rechecks his weapons to make sure they don't fail him at a critical time. Officers are giving orders to platoon leaders, and those leaders are giving rousing speeches to the troops in their command. Large holes are dug into the ground for the tanks to entrench themselves into for cover. The phrase "Hold the line" is echoed throughout the brigade. The 7th have one job to do and they know the fate of the EUF may depend on it. If they retreat here, Germany would suffer a catastrophic blow to it's economy and may never recover, dragging the entire EUF into the grave.
As Russian tanks start to filter in, the French tanks finally open up. Concussive blasts fire so rapidly it just sounds like one long explosion, nicknamed "Drumfire" by veterans of the brigade. Russian tanks can be seen in the distance bursting into flames. After what seems like hours of this, there is a lull in the fighting, and the front goes quiet. Unfortunately for the 7th, this was just the Russian Armored Corps regrouping for another push. A second wave of Russian tanks screams toward the city and again French guns open up on them at range. More tanks are on fire, this time several French tanks have been hit as well, their crews evacuating and picking up small arms and join the Belgians to provide infantry support. For their part, the Belgians are brave and are fighting every bit as fiercely as the French, and the Russians, for that matter.
The fighting continues for hours, although to the troops it seems like days. Time and time again the Russians pull back, regroup, and send another wave in. The sky is black from the smoke of burning tanks. Wounded men can be heard screaming in French, German and, distantly, Russian. Every man in every crew is exhausted, the concussions of the tank fire taking their toll. Infantry officers (the ones still standing) can be seen running up and down the line, shouting encouragement to their men. Finally though, the line goes quiet. At first they think it must be another temporary stop for the Russians to regroup. But as they wait, no further Russians attack. Still, they hold their positions and keep their gun sights towards the front. Finally a call comes down the line to Captain Gérald and he is sure it's High Command telling him to retreat. Instead it appears the Russians can be seen retreating from the city, their armor brigade shattering and missing many tanks. The 7th had held the line and the EUF lives another day.