Post by ∬: Erhard Strumfelder on Dec 6, 2008 20:57:36 GMT
Me and Joe have been planning this, so I added his men to the map. He’s at a checkpoint, and I’ve snuck behind enemy lines.
This post is hostile to get the thread moving, but if Joe objects I will change it. Please use image shack to upload new maps, selecting ‘optimise without resizing’. It stops the picture from warping.
Each building is two storeys tall, but they have no windows and doors because the place is under a curfew, so we can’t just go storming into them. Would have also taken too long to make...
22:35
Central France, 10 miles from the front
Strumfelder watched the empty street, everybody locked up inside their homes. Despite the curfew, few Allied soldiers moved up and down the street. Odd, Strumfelder never thought of the French as a law abiding lot. A Corporal with two men manned a checkpoint just up the road. Strumfelder planned to grab at least one, if only for questioning.
They had gone to catch a man, and bring him back, trying to find out what the Allies were planning or doing. Soon this whole town would once again have German armour moving through it, as they launched a final attack. The would push the invaders out of France once and for all, but they had to know what they were up against. This was Strumfelder’s job.
Next to him in the small car was his Corporal, Claus Kortig, with three other men in the back. Each of them wore civilian clothing, and had snuck across the line on bicycles. But they had commandeered this vehicle earlier in the day, killing the driver. Each man held his rifle, all bolt action Mausers, even Strumfelder, who had swapped his MG with one man in the rear.
The medic shoved a clip into the weapon, and cocked it, ready for combat. This wouldn’t be hard fighting, he just wanted a quick snatch and then to escape. The had parked up a small alley way, and had bluffed their way through the checkpoints using Strumfelder’s good English with little accent. Now he passed around cigarettes, before ordering his men to move out in hushed voices.
They exited the vehicle, Kortig moving around, one flank, while Strumfelder took the other. Strumfelder made sure his section had the MG. He had planned this, and Kortig’s eye would be of great use here.
Strumfelder lay down in on the tarmac, and watched the jolly American men who had little clue about what was about to take place. Strumfelder smiled, then whistled slightly on the wind. On the other side of the building, Kortig fired around, aimed straight at the soldier in the small hut. Next to him, the great MG34 burst into life , firing at the soldier on the right, just behind the barricades. The battle had begun.
This post is hostile to get the thread moving, but if Joe objects I will change it. Please use image shack to upload new maps, selecting ‘optimise without resizing’. It stops the picture from warping.
Each building is two storeys tall, but they have no windows and doors because the place is under a curfew, so we can’t just go storming into them. Would have also taken too long to make...
22:35
Central France, 10 miles from the front
Strumfelder watched the empty street, everybody locked up inside their homes. Despite the curfew, few Allied soldiers moved up and down the street. Odd, Strumfelder never thought of the French as a law abiding lot. A Corporal with two men manned a checkpoint just up the road. Strumfelder planned to grab at least one, if only for questioning.
They had gone to catch a man, and bring him back, trying to find out what the Allies were planning or doing. Soon this whole town would once again have German armour moving through it, as they launched a final attack. The would push the invaders out of France once and for all, but they had to know what they were up against. This was Strumfelder’s job.
Next to him in the small car was his Corporal, Claus Kortig, with three other men in the back. Each of them wore civilian clothing, and had snuck across the line on bicycles. But they had commandeered this vehicle earlier in the day, killing the driver. Each man held his rifle, all bolt action Mausers, even Strumfelder, who had swapped his MG with one man in the rear.
The medic shoved a clip into the weapon, and cocked it, ready for combat. This wouldn’t be hard fighting, he just wanted a quick snatch and then to escape. The had parked up a small alley way, and had bluffed their way through the checkpoints using Strumfelder’s good English with little accent. Now he passed around cigarettes, before ordering his men to move out in hushed voices.
They exited the vehicle, Kortig moving around, one flank, while Strumfelder took the other. Strumfelder made sure his section had the MG. He had planned this, and Kortig’s eye would be of great use here.
Strumfelder lay down in on the tarmac, and watched the jolly American men who had little clue about what was about to take place. Strumfelder smiled, then whistled slightly on the wind. On the other side of the building, Kortig fired around, aimed straight at the soldier in the small hut. Next to him, the great MG34 burst into life , firing at the soldier on the right, just behind the barricades. The battle had begun.
