Post by Jonas Merhoff on Nov 26, 2009 2:42:21 GMT
Country: El Alamein, Egypt
Area/Setting: Desert road near the coasts of Egypt. The Commonwealth forces have broken out of El Alamein and continue to push the Germans back through the North African desert.
Current Time: 0930 November 3rd, 1942
Weather Conditions: Dry, humid heat of the African desert.
The African desert. A vast plain of sand and stone. The desert was made to be a battlefield. The battered landscape was littered with mountains and valleys, making the land difficult to maneuver. The rough terrain was stained with the blood of tens of thousands of German, Italian, and Commonwealth soldiers. The arid wasteland's tactical importance was that of the Middle East. If Germany controlled North Africa, they could secure their holdings in the Middle East. And with that came the rich oil fields of the Middle East. There was little hope of such now, however, when the Afrika Korps struggled to put down the Allied offensive in the desert. An ill Rommel had left the horrid desert early September after setting up the German and Italian defenses in Egypt. Now, in November, the Axis forces had been pushed back to the verge of retreat.
It was Rommel's hope, as well as Hauptmann Jonas Merhoff's, that the German forces at Stalingrad would be able to secure the city quickly and move South to threaten the British in the Middle East. Only then could the two fronts crush the British and secure both North Africa and the Middle Eastern oil fields in a glorious series of victories. That was not the case. By late October, the German forces in Stalingrad had not been able to end the fighting and the British launched an offensive in Egypt. The weakened Afrika Korps and it's Italian allies were forced back by the Commonwealth forces might with ease. By early November, they were preparing to fall back.
Two measly platoons. That was all the men that Merhoff could spare for the small ambush. The platoons had been reduced greatly during the initial fighting, now only a force of thirty odd men. The best Merhoff could gather for the ambush were two MG42s and a handful of about five Panzerfausts. There were reports of a small force of British vehicles ranging somewhere between 3-6 tanks was moving down the African road, with the possibility of a British convoy soon to follow the path the tanks were quickly clearing. Merhoff had volunteered to lead the small scale operation, thirsty for British blood after the recent, painful defeats.
The African sand, under the constant heat of the sun, scorched the Hauptmann was he crawled up the small dune . Along the desert road ran a small stretch of elevated sand that had built up over the years, a perfect place to stage an ambush. The thirty German soldiers were pressed against the burning sand, doing their best to ignore the heat. To a British tank moving down the road, they would be nearly invisible. The two MG42s were set up near the top of the dune, concealed by a clever placement of stones. The most experienced of his men had given the control of one of the five panzerfausts, lying in careful wait at the top of the sand dune. The panzerfaust was a one time deal and Merhoff needed to take out the tanks before they had a chance to counterattack. He couldn't afford a missed shot.
Lying on his stomach beside an MG42, Merhoff took a glance at the two men. The Corporal was serving as the loader/spotter, for a younger Private who went by the name of Wilhelm Hasburg. Merhoff had put Hasburg in command of the MG42, the gunner of the deadly machine gun. Raising the binoculars that tangled around his neck, he looked out into the distance. Far away he could make out signs of dust along the road. The rising dust of a storm. He studied the terrain, attempting to make out any hints of a British tank. Nothing. Nada. Merhoff sighed and dropped the binoculars, grasping his MP40 as he rolled onto his left side. Waiting in anticipation. He was ready for revenge. The sand of Egypt would be stained red today.
Area/Setting: Desert road near the coasts of Egypt. The Commonwealth forces have broken out of El Alamein and continue to push the Germans back through the North African desert.
Current Time: 0930 November 3rd, 1942
Weather Conditions: Dry, humid heat of the African desert.
The African desert. A vast plain of sand and stone. The desert was made to be a battlefield. The battered landscape was littered with mountains and valleys, making the land difficult to maneuver. The rough terrain was stained with the blood of tens of thousands of German, Italian, and Commonwealth soldiers. The arid wasteland's tactical importance was that of the Middle East. If Germany controlled North Africa, they could secure their holdings in the Middle East. And with that came the rich oil fields of the Middle East. There was little hope of such now, however, when the Afrika Korps struggled to put down the Allied offensive in the desert. An ill Rommel had left the horrid desert early September after setting up the German and Italian defenses in Egypt. Now, in November, the Axis forces had been pushed back to the verge of retreat.
It was Rommel's hope, as well as Hauptmann Jonas Merhoff's, that the German forces at Stalingrad would be able to secure the city quickly and move South to threaten the British in the Middle East. Only then could the two fronts crush the British and secure both North Africa and the Middle Eastern oil fields in a glorious series of victories. That was not the case. By late October, the German forces in Stalingrad had not been able to end the fighting and the British launched an offensive in Egypt. The weakened Afrika Korps and it's Italian allies were forced back by the Commonwealth forces might with ease. By early November, they were preparing to fall back.
Two measly platoons. That was all the men that Merhoff could spare for the small ambush. The platoons had been reduced greatly during the initial fighting, now only a force of thirty odd men. The best Merhoff could gather for the ambush were two MG42s and a handful of about five Panzerfausts. There were reports of a small force of British vehicles ranging somewhere between 3-6 tanks was moving down the African road, with the possibility of a British convoy soon to follow the path the tanks were quickly clearing. Merhoff had volunteered to lead the small scale operation, thirsty for British blood after the recent, painful defeats.
The African sand, under the constant heat of the sun, scorched the Hauptmann was he crawled up the small dune . Along the desert road ran a small stretch of elevated sand that had built up over the years, a perfect place to stage an ambush. The thirty German soldiers were pressed against the burning sand, doing their best to ignore the heat. To a British tank moving down the road, they would be nearly invisible. The two MG42s were set up near the top of the dune, concealed by a clever placement of stones. The most experienced of his men had given the control of one of the five panzerfausts, lying in careful wait at the top of the sand dune. The panzerfaust was a one time deal and Merhoff needed to take out the tanks before they had a chance to counterattack. He couldn't afford a missed shot.
Lying on his stomach beside an MG42, Merhoff took a glance at the two men. The Corporal was serving as the loader/spotter, for a younger Private who went by the name of Wilhelm Hasburg. Merhoff had put Hasburg in command of the MG42, the gunner of the deadly machine gun. Raising the binoculars that tangled around his neck, he looked out into the distance. Far away he could make out signs of dust along the road. The rising dust of a storm. He studied the terrain, attempting to make out any hints of a British tank. Nothing. Nada. Merhoff sighed and dropped the binoculars, grasping his MP40 as he rolled onto his left side. Waiting in anticipation. He was ready for revenge. The sand of Egypt would be stained red today.