game creation and design Matthew Hope
Robert Kingery
creative director Robert Kingery
lead game designer Matthew Hope contributors Kevin Cowdrey John Helmer Davis Kingsley David Sininger Joe Tuzzolino Dan Weber
design & layout Crystal Kingery cover art Brian Samms
lead concept artist Peter Johnston contributing artists Chris Damask Matthew Ellinger Aaron Gillespie Mark Jaworski Kirill Kanaev Mark Kay Aleksandr Kursov Michael Linke
Anna “Ana” Machowska JC McDaniel Robert Palfrey Joep Peters Steven Skidmore Jason Weibe Maciej Zylewicz writers Matthew Hope Clint Werner chief editor Dr. Richard Flynn terrain ESLO Terrain Pegasus Hobbies photography Robert Kingery casting Cipher Studios playtesters Chris Abratte Kevin Cowdery Rhett Cumming Guy Dampier Max Dampier Jean Marie Dehlinger Richard Dixon Kenneth Ford Dominic Goh Jaroslaw Grabowski Burkhard Hannig David Hay John Helmer Daniel Hope Christian Hundahl Peter Jenisch Kevin Jones Michael Karns Tom Kiley Davis Kingsley Fernando Lopez Carl Olsen Paul Pietsch Steve Reiber Pascal Saradjian David Sininger Eric Solie Christian Steimel Carl Stoelzel Aaron Vines Dan Weber Clint Werner Maciej Zylewicz
The Darkson Designs team would like to extend our most greatful and sincerest thanks to Matthew Hope for all his effort and hard work in making AE-WWII a reality, without you this project would still be just a thought. We would also like to thank Clint Werner for his incredible stories that helped to bring life into AE-WWII. Also, we can’t forget our great group of playtesters, thank you for all your testing, critiques, feedback, and comments.
publisher: Darkson Designs
7201 Garden Grove Blvd. Ste. A Garden Grove, CA 92841 USA
www.darksondesigns.com | [email protected]
Copyright © 2007 Darkson Designs All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-0-9766410-4-9
First Printing, December 2007. Printed in the USA.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserve above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.
Introduction...4
City of Twilight...5
Background & Setting...13
Timeline...30
core rules Characteristics...40
Attributes...40
Special Abilities...40
Troop Type/Training Level...42
Action Points...42 Unit Type...42 Game Play...48 The Turn...48 Actions...48 Action Type...48 Movement...49 Combat...50 Ranged Combat...50
The Weapons of War...52
Weapon List...55 Weapon Descriptions...56 Close Combat...59 Morale...60 Vehicles...62 Vehicle Characteristics...62 Vehicle Crews...63 Vehicle Actions...64 Vehicle List...66 Force Organization...70 Detachment Types...70 Special Orders ...74
Scenarios & Objectives...76
Scenarios...76
Scenario Descriptions...77
Scenario Special Rules...82
Secondary Objective Descriptions...82
Campaigns...84
Campaign Types...84
Campaign Structure...84
Following A Campaign...85
Sample Campaign - A Fool’s Errand...87
Sample Campaign - The Rockets Of St. Michele...96
Bloody Winter...105 german geneticists Sonderbuero 13...110 German List...117 Sample List...124 Painting Guide...125 american sci-tech Captain Wolf...127 ARPA...129 American List...135 Sample List...143 Painting Guide...144 soviet psi Khaymovich Interviews...146 4th Special Department...148 Soviet List...155 Sample List...162 Painting Guide...163 Subhuman...164 Lexicon...168 References...170 Index...171
Alternate Events: World War II is a skirmish-based miniatures game set in the retro sci-fi setting of an alternate World War II. The game is intended for use with the Darkson Designs line of AE-WWII ‘true’ 28mm models but is compatible with any 1/48 scale models or miniatures. AE-WWII presents players with a war quite different from the one found in the history books. Here, the war has dragged on and neither the Axis nor the Allies have been able to secure a victory. By spring of 1946 the confl ict has devolved into a bloody war of attrition and all sides turn to new advances in science, technology and even the occult to try and achieve victory. As you will see from the alternate history presented here, the war continues along much the same lines it had in our past, but different forks in the timeline have led the world to a different place; a place of frightening weapons of war, a place of faltering alliances, a place of death and heroism, a place of never-ending war. AE-WWII combines war-gaming and historical fi ction into a game that has much to offer fans of both. With a fl exible, points-free detachment design system
players can create purely historical forces or units comprised entirely of the terrifying new wonder weapons available to each side of the confl ict. In AE-WWII it’s up to the players to decide how historical or how fi ctional the game will be. The rules presented here make for exciting, fast-paced games that can be played in anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours. Games of AE-WWII can often be decided quickly with one side achieving victory over the other in a few short turns. Alternatively, battles can drag on, with neither side able to break the other as each player desperately tries to eliminate their opponent. With our three-pronged victory condition system, each scenario of AE-WWII forces players to attempt to achieve primary and secondary objectives as well as keep in mind their casualty rates; games of AE-WWII can often end in ties, such are the harsh realities of war. Each player of AE-WWII controls a detachment, which is roughly a single squad of soldiers. This smaller model count makes it easy to collect enough miniatures to get into the game quickly, without the need for a large investment of time and money. In addition, it keeps games fast and fun. The rules allow for multiple detachment games, giving players the option to expand the game to the platoon level with little need for adjustment to the rules. We’ve
also included rules for light vehicles, which let players put into use any of the various 1/43, 1/48 and 1/50 scale WWII model vehicle kits available on the market.
AE-WWII has been designed by gamers and history nuts who have a passion for gaming and for our past. We feel that the attention to detail placed in the game and into its setting creates a game that is both easy to learn and fun to play. Each skirmish takes place in a setting rich in historical accuracy blended with exciting fi ction. We hope we have captured the feel of an alternate World War II setting mixed with our unique retro sci-fi fl avor. sidebars
Throughout this book we will present tips, hints, strategies and interesting facts in the form of sidebars. In House will provide readers with strategies and tips used by the game designers for our own games, while the Fact vs. Fiction sidebars will show the differences between the facts of World War II and the fi ctional material created for this game.
Sergeant Frank Miller chewed on the mushy stump of an old cigar, his Thompson sub-machine gun resting casually against his hip. The sounds of a city gone mad bellowed in his ears, the sound of thousands of voices lifted in celebration, laughing, shouting and cheering as the dark shroud that had hovered over them for four years was fi nally pulled away. Everywhere Sgt Miller turned, all he could see was a sea of smiles, jubilant faces glowing in the vibrant light of a new dawn. The French tricolor fl ag was waving above the crowds that thronged the streets, homemade signs praising everyone from De Gaulle to MacArthur and Roosevelt sprouted like weeds among the mob. Flowers littered the street as French women and children threw them to the marching Americans.
The mad joy had infected Miller’s men. Hitching a ride on one of the T14 assault tanks from 3rd Army’s armoured division, the squad was entering the city in style. Every inch of the tank’s thick hull was covered in grimy GIs, their boots caked in mud, their fatigues powdered with the dust of their long march up from the Riviera. He saw Herwig, the mop-headed little lawyer’s kid from Toledo grinning like an idiot, letting the cheers of the crowd saturate him from nose to toes. He had one arm wrapped around a bottle of wine some shrivelled old man had darted into the road to give him, narrowly missing being ground under the tank’s tracks. His other arm was buried in a loaf of bread big enough to gag a moose and he was trying to fi gure out how to make room for a basket of apples a doe-eyed French girl was struggling to lift up to him from the street. Simpson, the podgy welder from El Paso made it easy for him. Holding onto the cannon with one hand, he swung out over the street like the prodigal missing link and grabbed the basket. The dark-haired corporal swung back,
revelling in the laughter of his squad. He beat a sunburnt hand against his breast and hooted at his comrades.
‘Cut the malarkey, Tubby,’ Miller growled, ‘you ain’t King Kong.’ Simpson stared at him, eyes downcast like a scolded school boy. Miller shook his head. Were these really the same men he’d come through Sicily and Avignon with? The men who had fought their way through Mussolini’s Black Brigade and the 14th German Panzer Corps, the men who had stood their ground and blasted away at the drooling, degenerate horrors the Italians had set loose when they realized they couldn’t hold the island? Were these the same men who had fought through the Vichy Milice and the Waffen SS after landing in France? He’d seen Simpson knock out a German halftrack and mow down the survivors as they crawled out of the wreckage. He’d seen Herwig take out a German pillbox outside Nimes with only a few grenades and his trench knife. He’d seen Pollock standing in the middle of a fi eld emptying his BAR into a diving Stuka. It didn’t seem possible that these were the same men, laughing and joking like a bunch of kids. It wasn’t right.
‘What’s eatin’ ya Sarge?’ The question came from Charlie Benton, a freckle-faced rifl eman from the San Gabriel Valley. He’d joined up with the squad after ’44, when a lot of guys were being reassigned. After D-Day, there were a lot of outfi ts that simply weren’t around any more. ‘It’s a big day! We’re heroes, driving the krauts out of Paris without even fi rin’ a shot! You’ve got to be harder’n a sledgehammer not to be feelin’ giddy just now yerself!’
was a big day and by all rights he should be grinning just as big as all them Parisians lining the streets. But somehow he couldn’t relax, couldn’t let himself give in to the situation. Tiny alarm bells were going off in the back of his brain, telling him to keep his eyes open and a steady grip on his Thompson.
‘It ain’t right,’ Miller confi ded to Benton. ‘You ever been on the beach and fell asleep and had them little black ants start crawlin’ on you? That’s how I feel right now, like my skin’s just itchin’ and squirmin.’ The sergeant looked away from the rifl eman, glancing at the joyous crowd in the street. ‘Don’t this feel wrong to you? How long you been fi ghtin’ Fritz? Two years? Three? I signed up right after Pearl, been in every damn engagement from Morocco to Avignon and if there’s one thing I’ve learned is that Fritz doesn’t give nothin’ away for free!’ He looked up into the sky, watching the puffy white clouds roll across the pristine summer sky. ‘I can’t get into all this celebratin’ Benton, ‘cause I’m too busy waitin’ for the other shoe to fall.’
Benton left his sergeant to his thoughts, turning to fi nd more pleasant company among the other grunts crowded on top of the tank. Miller didn’t even notice him, too busy watching the crowd, watching the buildings, watching the sky. If there’d ever been a safe bet, a sure thing, Miller would have placed his money on the Germans fi ghting tooth and nail for every street corner and back alley before they let the French have Paris back. The scene around him was surreal, almost dreamlike. He kept waiting for saboteurs or snipers or a squadron of Heinkels to pop up. Every minute that passed, Miller’s tension grew. No way was it going to be this easy.
A sudden disturbance in the street ahead caused the tank in front of them to stop, bringing the entire column to a halt. Cursing from behind him told Miller that O’Connor hadn’t been ready for the sudden stop, jostling forward and chipping a tooth on one of the T14’s hatches. Without turning, Miller snarled for his man to keep quiet. Something was happening forward, and he wanted to know what it was. Faintly, above the rumble of the tank engines and the roar of the crowd, Miller could hear somebody yelling. He spun around, grabbing a fi stful of fatigues and pulling the GI in them with him as he dropped down from the tank and ambled to the front of the line.
‘What the hell, Sarge?’ complained Private Ned Banks, the barrel-chested youth from Ohio he’d encouraged to join him for a walk.
‘Somethin’s up and I’m gonna see what,’ Miller told him without breaking stride. ‘Might need you to parley some francais for me.’ The sergeant and his soldier came to the front of the idling T14. There was a French offi cer standing in front of the tank, shouting and posturing up to the tank commander, trying to make himself understood. The perplexed tank man kept shaking his head, responding to everything the offi cer shouted at him with a frustrated ‘Hey, Mack, I don’t speak French.’
‘That’s okay, buddy, I got a fella from my squad can do the translatin’,’ Miller said, intruding on the scene. The exasperated French colonel was visibly relieved when Banks came forward and started to translate his needs for the tank crew. Miller followed
the exchange closely, eyes narrowing as his mind turned over the details. It seemed that not all the Germans had bugged out the minute De Gaulle and Bradley started rolling into Paris. A handful of them were left behind, offi cers and administrators for Field Marshal von Choltitz’s military government. They were holed up inside the Kommandantur, the headquarters from which von Choltitz had controlled the city, refusing to surrender until they had General de Gaulle’s personal assurance that they would be treated as prisoners of war rather than shot out of hand by some of the fanatics in the Maquis. The French colonel wasn’t about to bother the leader of the Free French with such a trifl ing matter and felt that a display of force would get the Germans to surrender every bit as quickly as the famous general.
Sgt Miller considered everything the French colonel said, going over it with all the suspicion that had kept him alive since ’42. At length he spat his cigar out and ground it under his boot. ‘Tell the colonel to keep his drawers on, Banks. If the tank boys ain’t up to it, I know some grunts that’d jump at the chance to give him a hand.’
‘You do, Sarge?’ Banks asked, a worried gloom pulling at his face.
‘Yeah,’ Miller replied. ‘Us.’
The Kommandantur was situated on the rue de Rivoli in the building that had been the opulent Hotel Meurice. The Germans had appropriated the hotel in 1940, using the massive structure as their headquarters in the city. Miller could feel the change in the air as their T14 rumbled toward the infamous Kommandantur, where the German Gestapo had transformed the expansive cellars into cells and interrogation rooms. Sandbags and barbed wire lined the lower windows, hasty defenses erected by von Choltitz against an uprising among the supposedly docile population. Here there were no cheering crowds, no jubilant throngs, only hard-faced fi ghters in grubby civilian clothes fi ngering captured Schmeissers and British Sten guns, glaring hate at the crimson fl ags fl ying from the balconies of the hotel, at the massive iron eagle bolted above the main entrance. From his perch on the tank, Miller could see that there must be hundreds of armed Maquis surrounding the Kommandantur and only a few dozen soldiers in the green fatigues of the Free French army. Maybe the krauts pinned down inside weren’t so batty trying to stay holed up inside. One look at that mob and any German would start to feel a noose drawing tight around his neck.
Beyond the ring of Maquis and the handful of French soldiers, there was a perimeter of several hundred civilians, drawn to the spectacle unfolding at the Kommandantur with the same morbid curiosity that makes motorists slow down as they pass an accident. There were none of the cheers and shouts that marked the crowd lining the Champs Elysees, only a tense, expectant quiet. That crawling feeling was getting so bad that Miller started to scratch his arm.
The French colonel dropped down from the lead tank, every eye in the crowd on him as he swaggered past his men and the partisans. The T14 he had climbed aboard swung around, rumbling into a position on the left fl ank of the entrance while
the second T14 turned to the right. As it settled into its spot, Miller and his men dropped down from their seats on the hull, circling the tank and using its bulk for cover. If anybody in the Kommandantur started getting trigger happy, Miller would feel better with a couple feet of steel and armour plate between him and the hotel. A pair of offi cers joined the colonel and approached the building.
‘Hello to hotel!’ a French captain shouted, cupping a hand to his face. ‘I ask you again to lay down you weepons an’ surrender!’ He looked aside at the two immense tanks now fl anking the building. ‘As you can see, you are in no position for negotiate! Come out now an’ you weel not be harm!’
The little alarm bells were now positively thundering in Miller’s brain. He glanced over at Private Banks. ‘Why the hell are they yelling at them in English?’ he wondered. Pollack shrugged his shoulders.
‘Maybe none of ‘em speak German,’ he suggested.
‘Yeah, but you’d expect krauts stationed at the Paris headquarters to speak some French,’ Benton replied. That little worried itch that had been plaguing Miller seemed to have passed itself on to the rifl eman. Benton slid back the action on his weapon, checking the round in the chamber. The rest of the squad turned worried looks toward the hotel.
‘We speak mit der General!’ an angry voice snarled from behind one of the cage-faced windows on the lower fl oor of the hotel. ‘You fellows we are not trusting! Bring der General. We will mit him speak!’
The German’s tone seemed to infuriate the captain. He translated the exchange for the colonel beside him and Miller could see the Frenchman’s face grow red with anger. He snapped something to the captain, and even without understanding what was being said, Miller could feel the venom in his words. The captain turned back to the hotel.
‘You weel surrender to us! The general is not coming! He has important things than waste time with some stubborn bosch! Come out now, or face consequence!’
The reply to the captain’s demands was as sudden as it was brutal. There was a bright fl ash at one of the windows, then a loud boom as a ball of fl ame enveloped the captain, hurling his twisted carcass a dozen yards into the park across the street. The offi cer beside him was thrown by the explosion, smacking into the hull of the T14 with an impact that caved his chest like an old eggshell. The colonel was knocked down, rolling across the cobblestones like a battered tumbleweed, his tunic stained crimson where shrapnel had ripped into it.
‘Panzerfaust!’ Pollack screamed. The cry had Miller’s men scattering from the backside of the T14 like rats. Most of the French soldiers were still stunned by the horrifi c death of their captain, but a few of the partisans were peppering the walls and windows of the Kommandantur with automatic fi re. Whoever had fi red the anti-tank rocket into the captain’s chest had either
been caught in the fi re or else was keeping his head down. Soon the .50 calibres mounted on the turrets of the T14s were adding to the shower of lead slamming into the façade of the hotel. Even Miller was impressed by the amount of fi re being directed into the Kommandantur. Nothing alive could stick its neck out under that kind of fi re.
Unfortunately, Miller had seen for himself that some of the things fi ghting for the Reich weren’t exactly alive.
The fi rst one emerged from the main entrance, its anti-septic reek of chemicals and lubricants overwhelming even the stink of gunpowder in the air. In shape, it wasn’t so dissimilar to a man, after all, it had been human… once. But the devil doctor’s of the Reich’s Sonderbuero 13 had changed whoever it had been, discarding its humanity and replacing it with steel and wire, with drugs and chemicals that deadened the brain until only one thing remained – the need to kill! The thing’s withered frame was like that of some scarecrow wandered out of its fi eld, but the scrawny body was deceptive. There might not be any meat clinging to the thing’s bones, but there was plenty of muscle. About the thing’s waist was a metal belt, its surface covered in little steel bottles. Big rubber tubes stretched from the bottles to grotesque sockets in the thing’s chest, pumping their hideous chemicals straight into its heart. Veins black with poison oozed beneath the thing’s drawn, sickly skin. The head was withered and hairless, wasted into a living skull. The face was hidden behind a rubber gasmask-type covering, recycling the drug-ridden air the thing was spitting up from its body and forcing it back down into its lungs. The dark goggles of the mask stared blankly from above the insect-like snout, but there was no mistaking the ferocity smouldering behind the blackened lenses.
Miller had seen them before, in Sicily, later on the Gustav Line in Italy. HQ called them ‘Emaciated Troopers’, deriding them as some sick attempt by the Germans to recycle their wounded by turning them into doped-up bullet-stoppers. They weren’t a serious threat, HQ said, so long as the boys in the fi eld kept their wits about them and didn’t panic. Miller wondered if HQ believed half of the swill they told their ‘boys’.
The Emaciated Trooper stood in the doorway for a few seconds, it took that long for the guys fi ring on the hotel to get over the shock of its ghastly appearance. Then somebody opened up on the thing, bullets slamming into it like a prize fi ghter throwing jabs at a slab of beef. The thing paid about as much attention to the bullets as a slab of beef, its wasted husk tearing and ripping as the rounds shredded into it. Its head swung around, the insect face glaring at the partisan who had opened up on it. From behind the mask came a gurgling, liquid snarl and the thing leapt forward, sprinting across the street with a speed Jesse Owens only dreamed about. As it ran, it lifted the huge, over-sized nightmares some psychopath had decided would make nice replacements for its arms.
The partisan shrieked as the Emaciated Trooper brought its left arm scything down across his chest, ripping him open from shoulder to spleen. Miller saw the arm gleaming wetly in the summer sun, a thin length of steel jointed at its midsection before stabbing into the big ball socket that had replaced the
thing’s own shoulder. At the end of the steel rod, where a man’s hand would be, was a set of jagged triangular blades, like a madman’s interpretation of a bear claw. The mangled Frenchman dropped, so overwhelmed with pain and shock that no sound came from his writhing lips. Now others were fi ring at the creature, partisans, French soldiers, even one of the tankers had swung his turret around so he could cut the thing down with the Ma Deuce mounted over the hatch. The Emaciated Trooper’s body jerked and danced as the bullets slammed into it, tearing it apart. The chemical stink intensifi ed as the cylinders on its belt ruptured. Even so, with its desiccated body being torn asunder, the creature had enough strength to bring its other arm snapping down at the mortally wounded maquisard. Instead of the rake-like fi tting of its other hand, the Emaciated Trooper’s left arm ended in a pair of massive industrial sheers. The huge blades fl ashed shut across the Frenchman’s neck, cutting through it as cleanly as the stem of a dandelion. Then the abomination was down, its inhuman vitality at last overcome by the .50 calibre rounds sawing into it from the turret of the T14. Its spine severed, the monstrosity crumpled into the street, stagnant
blood and pungent chemicals draining out of its tortured husk.
Even as the Emaciated Trooper grew still and the horror of its sudden appearance was beginning to lift, a terrifi c series of explosions rocked the street, throwing men to the dirt. A cloud of chalky white dust billowed from the Kommandantur, sweeping over the tanks and the partisans. Miller cursed at himself. The abomination the Germans had sent through the doorway had been a diversion, something to keep everybody’s attention while they got down to the real work. Charges had exploded across the sides of the hotel, gouging gaping holes in the façade. Through the smoke and dust, Miller could see shapes sprinting through the rubble – lean gangly fi gures with limbs of steel fused to their shoulders. Before Miller could react, the Emaciated Troopers were in among the staggering partisans, their murderous claws scything through the Frenchmen.
‘Tubby!’ Miller roared to Private Simpson. The chubby GI looked over at his leader. Already the heavy BAR was in his hands, Miller had caught him as Simpson started to crane his body around the T14’s exhaust to spray the enemies spilling from the ruptured hotel. ‘More Scrawnies, Tubby! Switch to HE!’ Simpson nodded his understanding, ripping the magazine from the underside of the automatic rifl e. He fumbled in the leather ammo bag slung over his shoulder for a moment, then slammed a fresh magazine into the weapon. Miller could see the distinctive red dot on the side of the magazine, denoting the high-explosive T99 bullets contained within. By the time Simpson swung back around to fi nd a target, several of the French soldiers had recovered and were fi ring everything they had into the German abominations. Even some of Miller’s men were getting in on the action, fi ring their carbines at the oncoming horrors. But American or Frenchman, the fi re was only slowing the monstrosities down, it took a lot more force than a 9mm or even a thirty aught six could deliver to drop an Emaciated Trooper for good. It was one
of the reasons the Army had started issuing 40 round magazines for the Browning Automatic Rifl e, and giving the men equipped with the weapons a healthy supply of HE ammo.
Tubby sprang from behind the T14 and delivered a one-man fusillade that had the Emaciated Troopers on his side of the tank reeling. Wherever his slugs hit, a chunk of meat the size of a watermelon was blown away. Miller didn’t care what kind of drugs the Germans had their monsters doped up with, nothing shrugged off that kind of damage. The blasted, mangled Scrawnies were littered among their dismembered victims like so many crushed insects, their broken limbs fl ailing uselessly at the uncaring sky. Simpson gave a whoop of satisfaction and dropped back into cover to slap a fresh magazine into the BAR. On the other side of the street, the second T14 was raking the Emaciated Troopers with machine gun fi re, cutting them down at the waist. The tankers weren’t taking any chances, however,
and soon the big 75mm main gun was craning downward. There was a bestial roar and the muzzle of the cannon exploded with fl ame. The shell smashed into the debris now surrounding the Kommandantur, instantly bursting and scattering a burning paste against the side of the building and all around the mangled Emaciated Troopers. The white phosphorous from the shell sizzled and burned as it chewed its way through the twisted fl esh it landed upon.
The ground rumbled again as still another explosion shook the street. Miller’s ears were ringing as he threw himself to the ground, pressing his face against the cobblestones. Shreds of steel fl ew through the air above him, decapitating the tank commander leaning from the hatch of their T14. The other T14 was billowing smoke from the mangled ruin of its turret. A second explosion shook the heavy tank and tongues of fl ame erupted from every hatch on the T14’s hull. A screaming tanker tried to claw his way from the wreckage, his body enveloped in fi re. He only got as far as getting his head and shoulders clear before he slumped against the hatch and cooked with the rest of his crew.
The culprits for the destruction of the T14 strode through the smoke and rubble, towering above the destruction like ancient pagan gods. They stood nine feet tall if they were an inch, their bodies swollen with muscle, their cruel faces twisted and distorted with an inhuman, malignant power. Veins stood clear and bold against their fl esh, pulsing green as they pumped chemical strength through the immense bodies. Black fatigues struggled to contain their enormity, the little gold badges of the German Waffen SD standing out upon the collars of their fatigues. One of the juggernauts wore a black steel helmet one his head, the other sported a narrow-brimmed fatigue cap, the SD skull insignia grinning from its brow. All this Miller saw in the span of a heartbeat, then his eyes were locked on the weapons fi lling the paws of the two giants. The one with the helmet was carrying an over-sized panzerfaust in his hands, a thick leather bandolier crossing his enormous chest held three more of the anti-tank rockets, two of the loops empty after he’d sent their contents slamming into the T14. The other giant held an MG42 in each of his fi sts. The huge German roared like the very devil and opened fi re on the largest cluster of partisans he could fi nd, the automatic fi re slashing through the maquisardes as they scrambled for cover. Miller had heard rumours of these brutes, but had never seen them before. Rohlingsoldaten was what the Germans called them, but the Brits had nicknamed them ‘ogres’ and the British slang had passed on into use by their American allies. Whatever the name, Miller would have preferred if the monsters had remained just a rumour.
‘Simpson! Banks! Herwig!’ Miller shouted, picking himself from the cobbles and tightening his grip on his Thompson. He stabbed a fi nger in the direction of the Ogres. Already the one with the panzerfaust was swinging around for a shot at the other tank. Considering that they were still using the T14 for cover,
Miller didn’t want to give the monster the chance to take that shot. However, when he started pouring lead at the giant, he found that he was alone. The rest of the squad were busy with their own problems. A second wave of Germans had burst out of the Kommandantur. Miller should have expected as much, the Germans often used their Emaciated Troopers as a covering force for their regular soldiers, letting the abominations soak up fi re while the real krauts got into position. He risked a quick look, seeing the debris fi eld beside the hotel alive with German soldiers in black fatigues and camoufl age smocks, their faces hidden behind rubber breathing masks. Simpson, the partisans and the crew of the T14 were too occupied trying to keep the SD regulars from overrunning them to notice the menace that had appeared on the other side of the hotel. That meant it was all up to him.
Miller’s fi re raked across the ground and sprayed over the Ogre as he crouched to fi re his shot. Spurts of green-colored blood exploded from the injured giant and the German dove for cover. With his comrade keeping the French down and the Waffen SD regulars converging on the other T14, the Ogre was surprised by the sudden attack. He rolled behind the burning tank he had destroyed as Miller shifted his aim and chased him with automatic fi re. The brute was far from agile, but with his ears still ringing from the explosion, Miller’s aim was anything but steady. He lost sight of the giant as the monster gained the shelter of its smouldering victim. Then Miller himself was diving for cover, a half-articulate warning bellowing from his lungs. The sergeant found himself scrambling across the blood-slick cobbles, only looking back once he’d reached the park. He felt a hot, hateful pain rip through his gut as he saw the crumpled bodies splashed across the side of the T14. Simpson, Herwig, Pollack, Banks, all of them were lying there in the gutter, their bodies torn apart by the burst of fi re Miller had so narrowly evaded. He hadn’t seen
the regular German soldiers who had followed the two giants out of the Kommandantur, but they had taken notice of him as soon as he opened fi re on their chemically-infused godling. They’d closed in while he was trying to pin down the Ogre, then let loose with their StG45s. The assault rifl es sent a shower of high-velocity death cascading along the hull of the T14, knocking down the men from Miller’s squad like tenpins.
Miller glared at the SD regulars as they sprinted toward the embattled tank. The commander had already abandoned the turret, retreating down into the interior of the T14. Unlike its counterpart, the remaining T14 didn’t have a hull-mounted machine gun and the Germans were much too close to use the main gun. Miller tried to work the action of his Thompson, intending to relieve the beleaguered tank, but found that his weapon had jammed during his violent scramble to save himself. It turned out he didn’t need to. The Waffen SD regulars were old hands at knocking out tanks, as they sprinted toward it, they shouldered their rifl es and tore hafthohlladung from their belts. The shaped mines possessed strong magnets that would fi x them fi rmly to an armoured hull. Even the heaviest armour plate wasn’t able to stand up to the punch these insidious little bombs packed. There were entire scrapyards in the Ukraine that gave ugly testament to just how profi cient the Germans were at slapping these nasties on even a mobile victim.
The T14, however, wasn’t quite the sitting duck the Germans had been expecting. The absence of a machine gun on the hull was because the extra space the gunner would occupy was taken up by a much different sort of equipment. The T14 Miller’s squad had hitched a ride on had been outfi tted as an ‘assault support tank’, expected to do its part in any close-in, house-to-house fi ghting. As the Germans scrambled near the hull, the crew inside activated that special equipment, a bit of experimental science from San Diablo called a ‘Tesla-skin’. The bulky generator inside the tank sent a crackling current of electricity rippling about the vehicle, sending 2,000 volts shooting through anything touching the exterior of the hull. The Germans assaulting the tank didn’t know what hit them, two of them being thrown back as the electricity shot into them, leaving them smoking husks on the street. The others turned to run, their morale shaken by the gruesome display. Miller drew his pistol, determined that none of them would reach cover, not after slaughtering his men. ‘Let me grease ‘em, Sarge.’ Miller turned his head to fi nd Private Benton beside him. At least one man from his squad had acted quick enough to take advantage of his warning. Benton had the dark plexiglass visor of his helmet down. Unlike the rest of Miller’s men, there was no armoured steel plate covering Benton’s chest, instead he wore a thickly insulated rubber smock and immense padded gauntlets. Benton’s weapon was fi tted to his arm with plastic cuffs, held against his body to prevent it from jumping when he fi red it. The gun was an oversized tube of non-conductive metal with a set of forked, copper tongues protruding from the end. Miller nodded to Benton, reaching up and wrenching the crank to ignite the electrical powerplant Benton wore on his back and which was connected to his weapon by a series of cables. After the third rotation, the generator crackled into life. The Germans had already reached cover, but Benton resolutely stood up and directed his fi re at
the pile of rubble they had converged on. The bucking beam of electricity that surged from the copper tongues sent a stink of ozone into the air as it crackled across the street. The beam struck the rubble with the impact of a lightning bolt, melting the bricks into slag and scattering the Germans with the force of its explosive impact. Two of the Germans stayed still when they crashed against the ground, but the third rose and tried to aim his StG45 at Benton. The American shifted the course of the beam, sending the electrical discharge slamming into the German and burning a hole clean through his chest.
They called men like Benton, ‘Zappers’ in the slang of the overseas GI, and for all the awfulness of the bulky directed-energy projector they carried, Miller wouldn’t trade them for a platoon of Shermans. The electrocution guns did wonders for spooking the Germans, giving them a taste of their own medicine. The krauts could keep their monsters, Miller had President MacArthur and Nikola Tesla behind him.
Automatic fi re caused Benton to kill the energy shooting from his weapon and drop back into the dirt. Miller dropped with him, trying to fl atten himself as bullets whistled over their heads. He lifted his head just enough to see the German Ogre with the machine guns come circling around the burning tank, his face contorted with rage, like some pagan god that had clawed its way out of its own grave. The butchery the Ogre had wrecked on the partisans had been hideous enough that there was nobody left to fi re on him – either lying mangled in the street or else having fl ed into the park. The remaining T14 noticed the brute’s advance and swung its turret around to target him with the main cannon. The gun barked, but the shell crashed a dozen yards past its intended target. Big as he was, the Ogre was a much smaller victim than the enemy armour and fi xed emplacements that the tankers were more used to aiming at. Before they could fi re again, the Ogre Miller had chased with his Thompson came back into view, fi ring a panzerfaust at the T14. The rocket cracked against the turret, blackening the hull and twisting the metal. The T14’s turret refused to rotate as the tankers recognized their immediate threat, the ring bent in such a way that it had become locked in position. The driver pivoted the tank sharply, causing it to slide forward as the left track lunged into life.
Before the tank could maneuver further, a gigantic shape emerged from the Kommandantur, pushing its way through the rubble, dwarfi ng even the Ogres. Miller felt an icy chill run down his back. He’d seen one of these before, in Toulon, but that one had been dead. He’d been horrifi ed by it then, even his unimaginative mind easily capable of conjuring a picture of how terrifying the thing had been when alive. Now that he saw one roaring in the jagged fi ssure that gaped in the side of the hotel, Miller realised that mental picture had been woefully short of the reality.
It was at least twelve feet from the tip of its domed skull to the soles of its wide-toed feet. Its immense chest was fi ve feet across at the shoulders if it was an inch, its arms as thick around as a telephone pole. Most of the beast was covered in stringy black hair, but Miller could see patches where the hair had worn away, exposing dark grey skin. The head was the heavy-jawed, low browed visage of an ape, more kindred to some monstrous
gorilla than anything else. Upon its brow, a serial number had been branded and the brute’s massive body was covered in welts and scars. It made sense that the SD had been less than gentle breaking such a beast to their will. Compassion was one of the weaknesses the German Führer was trying to purge from the human race.
The ape’s arms were gone, long since cut away by Sonderbuero surgeons and replaced with mechanical limbs of steel and wire. The monster brought its metal paws smashing against its own chest, producing a deep, rumbling roar like the growl of thunder. Miller supposed the sound might be one of the reasons the Germans had designated these monsters Sturmaffen.
The tank crew noted the appearance of the Sturmaffe and hastily tried to maneuver the T14 around, to bring the main gun to bear against the monstrosity. Even as they did, the giant ape was in motion, galloping across the ground like a charging bull. The sight was fearsome, Miller could imagine it was even more so for the men inside the tank. Certainly it was blind terror that made the T14’s commander throw back the hatch and rise from the crippled turret to seize the .50 mounted there. He hadn’t even worked the action of the machine gun before a Waffen SD regular took his head off with a burst from his assault rifl e. Framed in the jagged opening beside the Sturmaffe were several Germans, their faces hidden behind the expressionless breathing masks. Only their leader went with his features exposed, a hard, cruel countenance that was pulled to one side by a ragged scar that ran from temple to jaw. The offi cer wore a soft peaked cap, its brim polished to a gleaming shine, matching the riot of medals and decorations that covered the breast of his black tunic. The
SD offi cer’s face contorted into a wicked grin as he lowered his smoking StG45.
Then the Sturmaffe was at the tank. The monster’s paws sank into the armour plate as though it were grabbing a block of butter. Metal groaned and shrieked as the ape’s steel fi ngers tore into the tank. The Sturmaffe’s fanged maw fell open in a bellow of fury, veins sticking out on its sloped forehead. With an inhuman, Herculean effort, the ape held the tank in place, matching its brawn against the frantically churning treads. Slowly, by inches and degrees, it began to lift the T14, the tracks on its left side grinding desperately in the empty air. Electricity from the Tesla-skin crackled up and down the monstrous ape, yet it seemed oblivious to the pain, simply intensifying its efforts.
Suddenly a stream of orange, dripping brilliance washed over the Sturmaffe, a stream of fi re that doused the monster in liquid fl ame. Hair curled into cinder and fl esh blackened under the fi re, the ape tore its claws free from the side of the tank and dropped to the ground, ripping at its burning body. Another stream of fl ame spurted down into the Sturmaffe’s writhing fi gure, igniting its body like some gruesome candle. The crack of rifl es and machine guns accompanied the streams of napalm, bullets riddling the Sturmaffe and the Germans scattered outside the Kommandantur. The Axis soldiers scrambled back into cover, the punishing fi re forcing them to keep their heads low.
Miller turned his head to see a sight that brought a broad smile to his grimy face. Soldiers were charging down the avenue, spilling down the side street from the direction of the famed Avenue de l’Oprea, American and Free French. At the forefront was a trio of
clanking, lumbering fi gures, encased from head to foot in thick armour plate. A black face-plate of plexiglass surrounded what approximated the head of the lumbering machines, standing out in stark contrast to the olive drab of the armour. Miller knew that behind each of those faceless glass bubbles, a GI was staring out at the battlefi eld, navigating his path through the carnage like a one-man warship. Upon the left arm of each suit of armour was fastened an exotic weapon, the specialty of ARPA and their advanced weapons division. Two of these were still fi ring at the German Sturmaffe, spraying jets of napalm from the fl ame throwers on their arms, trying to burn the awful monstrosity like a pair of exterminators cleaning out a rat infestation.
The attentions of the two Buffalos did not go unnoticed. Several of the Waffen SD troopers redirected their fi re, spraying high-velocity bullets at the walking tanks. The round pinged harmlessly from the hulls, depriving the power-armoured GIs of their surrounding entourage of unarmoured comrades, who fell back for fear that some of the ricochets might hit them. The Buffalos themselves kept on coming, shifting their aim and hosing down the rubble to force the Germans back. Miller saw several of the masked SD troopers leap up, their bodies wreathed in fl ame. Living torches, they capered across the battlefi eld, their screams muffl ed by the heavy masks they wore. It was a revolting sight, Miller found himself fi ring his pistol at the burning men, not out of rage, but out of mercy.
Growling, spitting mad and with a machine-gun in each massive paw, the helmeted Ogre rushed at the Buffalos, his twin weapons roaring. One round struck a Buffalo’s fl ame thrower, punching through its fuel line and causing the entire side of the armour to become engulfed in fi re. The Buffalo beat futilely at the fl ames, trying to wipe the liquid off. The fi re might not be able to reach the operator deep inside the armour, but it could heat the steel plate to such a degree that he would be cooked. Bright sparks erupted from the sides of the suit and the Buffalo’s left leg and arm ceased to work as the electronics were fried by the fi re. The Ogre gave a roar of triumph, then started concentrating his fi re on the other Buffalo.
Even as the machine-gun rounds bounced off the hull of the armour, the Ogre’s brutal leer of savagery turned into an expression of disbelief. The third Buffalo had lingered behind his squad, to better assist his comrades. Now that third Buffalo opened fi re. A big, tube-like device was fi xed to the Buffalo’s weapon arm and now this erupted into life, sending a brilliant blue stream of light searing into the German abomination. The giant howled in defi ance just before the particle beam smashed into his face. The chemically mutated fl esh dripped off the Ogre’s howling skull as the beam burnt its way through its target. In an instant, a steaming crater had been bored through the front of the Ogre’s skull and out the back of its helmet. The hulking brute crashed against the street like felled timber.
The sight was enough to knock that sneer of triumph off the face of the SD offi cer back in the Kommandantur. He roared an order, then vanished into the hotel. The remaining Germans broke cover, scurrying back into their headquarters. Miller saw the Ogre with the fi eld cap rise from behind the husk of the fi rst T14 and scramble into the hole the Germans had blasted into the
side of the hotel. Benton sent a crackling stream of electricity chasing after the monster, but the monster’s luck was still holding strong. Miller cursed as he saw the fi end vanish into the smoky gloom of the Kommandantur.
A weird quiet settled on the Kommandantur, disrupted only by the moaning of wounded and dying men. And something else, something off in the distance. It took Miller a moment for his mind to get around what he was hearing. Gunfi re, and lots of it. Explosions too! It was coming from every direction.
A grizzled-looking American wearing captain’s bars on a decidedly non-issue brown vest strode toward Miller and Benton as they emerged from their cover in the park. A cluster of GIs and French soldiers had taken up covering positions outside the Kommandantur while mechanics sprayed foam onto the crippled Buffalo. There was a hard, granite-like quality about the set of the man’s features, his iron-colored hair and his darkly tanned body. Yet there was an almost exultant twinkle in the man’s frosty blue eyes, the mischievous mirth of a naughty child. ‘Sorry you boys got here fi rst,’ the captain was saying. ‘Soon as I got word that the Kommandantur was making requests to surrender to De Gaulle, I knew something was wrong. The Resistance has been feeding OSS intel that the SD’s been moving stuff in quicker than von Choltitz was pulling stuff out. Unfortunately, Alexander decided the best way to meet whatever the Germans had in mind was to dive right in.’
Miller’s mouth opened in disbelief. ‘You… you mean this whole thing… it’s a trap?’
‘With Paris as the bait!’ the captain agreed. ‘You hear that gunfi re? They’re all over the city, crawling up from the sewers and the catacombs. Right in the middle of the liberation parade! Damn near got General Bradley, from what I hear! Synchronized too, like a well-oiled machine. Give them Germans some credit, they might be murdering, looting, conniving huns, but nobody’s got their talent for precision!’
‘Then… then we didn’t win?’ Now that it was staring himself in the face, despite his own misgivings and inability to accept the ease of their victory, Miller was having a hard time accepting that he’d been right.
‘Not by a long shot,’ the captain grinned back. ‘I’m gonna miss this war when it’s over, sergeant. Fortunately Fritz has some ideas to get us into extra innings. I think they’ve got some notion to turn this place into another Stalingrad – only this time they get to play the Russians!’
A loud boom rumbled from somewhere on the Champs Elysees, causing even the buildings around the Kommandantur to vibrate. Miller and Benton ducked in reaction to the violent boom, but the captain just kept on grinning. He saw their reaction and laughed.
‘Look at the bright side, boys. There’s nothing better in this world than job security.’
before the war - From the shambles of a Germany devastated by rampant infl ation and unemployment, terrorized by social and political unrest, crippled by draconian war reparations imposed upon her by the victorious Allies, a dark saviour emerges. A small Bavarian political party founded by the arcane Thule Society becomes the power base for a beer-hall demagogue named Adolf Hitler. He reinvents the German Workers’ Party, the DAP, as the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, the NSDAP. An armed mob of paramilitary thugs called the SA, the Stormtroopers, provides the Party with brute force to protect Party meetings and to attack the Party’s hated adversaries – the Communists. Hitler and the Party are catapulted onto the national scene when they stage an abortive coup in Munich, the Bavarian capital. Despite his attempt to seize control of the Bavarian government, many in Germany sympathize with Hitler’s position that the government of Germany is a weak, incompetent parasite that is doing nothing to reverse the downward spiral of Germany’s economy. He serves only nine months of a four-year jail sentence for his part in the insurrection. Now with followers all across Germany, Hitler expands his ambitions. He forms an elite from the SA, black-uniformed guardsmen charged with acting as his personal bodyguard – the SS. Under the leadership of Heinrich Himmler, the SS will expand drastically beyond its original purpose and soon eclipse its parent organization.
In 1933, the NSDAP controls 33% of the German Reichstag, making them the largest party represented in the parliament. This leads to Nationalist president Field Marshal Hidenburg forming a coalition government with Hitler, who is made chancellor.
Sixteen months later, when von Hindenburg dies, Hitler’s power base has grown to such a degree that he proclaims himself Führer, supreme and sole leader of the German Reich. Under Hitler’s control, Germany begins to expand her military, train a new air-force and explore every avenue of scientifi c and strategic innovation that can be bent toward the purpose of making the German military the fi nest and best equipped in the world. It is not only the Führer’s power that expands, however. Heinrich Himmler increasingly fi nds new areas for the SS to sink its talons into. Scientifi c studies, archaeological expeditions, even youth programs and charity drives all come under control of the many departments within the new SS. Nowhere does Himmler’s reach extend more completely than in the arena of security and intelligence. He creates a spy community within the SS, the SD, and places Reinhard Heydrich at its head. Heydrich soon creates a command structure above the SD, the RSHA, which controls not only the SD but also the Gestapo and civilian police forces within Germany. As head of the RSHA, Heydrich becomes the third most powerful man in the Reich, behind only Himmler and the Führer himself. The SD will stage a major coup when they sell forged documents to Soviet agents in Prague which implicate Russian offi cers in collusion with the Germans – directly leading into Stalin’s brutal and bloody purge of 35,000 Red Army offi cers.
Elsewhere, the western world reels from the 1929 collapse of the New York Stock Exchange. Unemployment reaches record numbers in the United States, forcing millions into bread lines and soup kitchens. It will take most of a decade for the US to claw her way out of what will be called the Great Depression.
Unable to contend with the crisis, the Republican party is voted out of the White House and Democrat Franklin Delano Roosevelt is elected president. He institutes a series of work programs and government assistance that gradually begins to recover the situation. As tensions increase in Europe, the US passes into law a Neutrality Act which prohibits American fi nancial aid to any country engaged in war and offers no protection to American citizens who enter a war zone.
Britain and France watch the growing militarization of Germany and fascist Italy with great anxiety. The French seek to make alliances with nations in Eastern Europe, even going so far as to embrace Stalin’s USSR. The British try to maintain an offi cial
policy of ‘fair play’ trying to prevent an increase in tension and hostility in the region. Neither France’s politicking nor Britain’s attempts to maintain the peace prevent the war drums from sounding. Italian forces invade Albania and Abyssinia. Germany re-occupies the Saar and remilitarize the Rhineland. After a successful coup by the Austrian Nazi party, German forces move into Austria and the Alpine nation is absorbed into the greater German Reich. Spain erupts into civil war, a confl ict that will see Generalissimo Franco’s Nationalist forces backed by Italy and Germany against the Soviet-supported Republicans. Leery of encouraging the confl ict to spread, France and Britain stay out of the Spanish Civil War, a position which sours their relations with Stalin. In the end, Franco’s fascists will take control of the country.
Across the globe, a terrible portent of things to come grips China. Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang consolidates its hold over central China, ousting Communist and traditionalist forces. Exploiting China’s inner turmoil and without the consent of Japan’s civilian government, the Imperial Japanese Army stages fi rst an invasion of Manchuria and later presses on to occupy Chinese cities like Shanghai and Nanking. The IJA establishes puppet governments in Manchuria and Nanking as a pretence for their continued occupation of the region. General Zhukhov and the Red Army successfully prevent the IJA from expanding their infl uence northward into Mongolia, forcing the Japanese to
agree to an armistice.
In a last desperate attempt to preserve the peace, Prime Minister Chamberlain of Britain and Prime Minister Daladier of France agree to German demands for the Sudetenland, a German-speaking territory in Czechoslovakia. Representatives of the Czechoslovakian government aren’t even allowed into the meeting that will decide the fate of their nation. With German troops occupying the Sudetenland, Czechoslovakia begins to disintegrate as confi dence in the government collapses. When the province of Slovakia succeeds, German troops move in and add Bohemia-Moravia to the Reich’s possessions. Poland and Hungary also exploit the disintegration of the country, expanding their borders to engulf formerly Czech territories.
In August of 1938, a strange object crashes outside Czernica, Poland. The remains of the extraterrestrial craft and its occupants are seized by the Polish army and removed to a facility outside Warsaw for study. For nine months, the Poles maintain their secret, but eventually Heydrich’s SD learns about the exotic, advanced
technology Polish scientists are investigating. Already privy to the Führer’s ambitions in Poland, Heydrich pushes for an advance in the timetable for the invasion. October is agreed upon as the launch date for a full scale invasion of Poland, allowing the German ambassador to the USSR time to conclude a non-aggression pact with Stalin. Alliances with Italy and the USSR fall into faster than the Führer anticipates, by the end of August both countries have agreed to not interfere with German ambitions in western Poland. Heydrich pushes for an advance in the timetable. On August 31st, SD operatives in Polish army uniforms attack a German radio station near the Polish border. The next day, war will engulf Europe.
1939 - German forces invade western Poland, plowing through the numerically and technologically inferior Poles. This action
causes Britain and France to declare war on Germany. Three weeks into the German invasion, Stalin’s Red Army invades Poland from the east, determined to claim the territories promised by the Germans as part of the non-aggression pact. Racing behind the advancing German forces, Heydrich’s SD seizes the facility where Polish scientists have been examining the Czernica craft. The materials are quickly shipped back to Germany and Heydrich sets the best minds in the Reich to unlocking the secrets that have eluded the Poles. A massive underground facility, part laboratory and part fortress, is constructed in Thuringia near Ohrdruf to house the new SD science and technology branch, S-III.
Following the conquest of Poland, Germany makes preparations for the coming battle with Britain and France. Meanwhile, the Soviets continue to expand their infl uence, forcing treaties on the Baltic nations of Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania that allow the Soviets military bases in these countries. In November they launch a fi ve month war against Finland, claiming several Baltic ports when the Finns are fi nally compelled to sign an armistice with the aggressors.
Although maintaining strict neutrality in the face of another great war in Europe, FDR steps up American military production and development. He establishes the Advisory Committee on Uranium to explore Albert Einstein’s theory regarding military applications of the atom. He also establishes the Department of Experimental Weaponry under the auspices of the NDRC and ARPA. Exploring the wildly speculative scientifi c theories of Serbian electrical genius Nikola Tesla, DEW would explore such outré technologies as electrically powered automatons, protective energy fi elds, ‘death rays’ and comparatively mundane devices such as rocket packs and miniaturized radios.
1940 – The strange, tense period of peace that follows the conquest of Poland is broken in April when German forces conquer Denmark and invade Norway. British and French troops help the Norwegians defend their country, but most of their resources are devoted to France, where it is obvious the major confl ict will be fought. On the 10th of May, Germany launches a massive attack on France and the Low Countries. Better organized and co-ordinated than the British Expeditionary Force and the French army, the Germans quickly conquer Holland, Luxembourg and Belgium. The heavily mechanized German panzer divisions punch through French defences, racing past the battlefi elds of the fi rst World War on an unstoppable push to the coast. The German advance isolates the BEF and elements of the French army in the north of France and what little of Belgium remains unconquered. A hasty and desperate withdrawal is implemented at Dunkirk to evacuate as many troops as possible before the Germans close in and seal off all possibility of retreat. Only the miracle of Dunkirk prevents the German victory from being complete.
Demoralized by their losses in the north, hampered by a command structure that has all but collapsed and a government slipping into chaos, the rest of France is swiftly conquered by the German army. A new fascist government is formed by Marshal Petain and signs an armistice with Germany, allowing an independent French state based out of Vichy in the south of France while the Germans occupy Paris and the north. As a fi nal insult, Italy
declares war on battered France two weeks before the armistice. Fleeing to England, General Charles de Gaulle forms a ‘Free French’ government to oppose Petain’s Vichy regime.
With France defeated, Allied forces evacuate Norway, abandoning the country to the Germans. Meanwhile, the USSR expands its own operations, formally annexing Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania. Soviet demands for the territories of Bessarabia and Bukovina are granted by the intimidated Rumanians. Soviet aggression causes Hungary, Rumania and Slovakia to ally themselves with the German-Italian Axis.
In Africa, Mussolini’s armies stage attacks from the Italian colonies, invading British possessions in Kenya, the Sudan, British Somaliland, and Egypt. They also invade Greece from Italian-occupied Albania. Early Italian gains in Africa are quickly negated by General O’Connor’s devastating counteroffensive. The Japanese government undergoes a drastic change when Prince Konoye becomes the new prime minister, appointing General Hideki Tojo as Minister of War. The Japanese soon sign the Tripartite Pact with Germany and Italy, a formal alliance of mutual assistance. Japanese forces occupy French Indochina in an effort to cut off foreign aid to Chiang Kai-Shek’s Chinese. The Battle of Britain encompasses a massive effort by the Luftwaffe to destroy the British RAF in anticipation for a German invasion of the British Isles. U-boats prowl the North Atlantic, trying to cut off the steady stream of supply ships bringing much needed food and material to Britain. By September, however, in an ill-considered change of policy, Goering shifts Luftwaffe bombing raids from RAF airfi elds to London and other civilian
targets in an effort to break the will of the British people. Although civilian casualties are hideous and much of London is pounded into rubble, the change in strategy allows the RAF a much needed respite to rebuild and gather its strength.
In the United States, FDR announces his ‘Lend-Lease’ policy which would allow the British government to purchase materials ‘on credit’ in a strategy to circumvent US neutrality laws. 1941 – The Italian offensives crumble as Greek and British forces launch their own incursions into Italian-occupied territories. The Greeks press into Albania and the British and their Commonwealth allies stage attacks against Italian colonies throughout Africa, making tremendous gains against the poorly equipped and led Italian army. In order to bolster the failing Italian army and keep Mussolini in the war, German troops are sent to Libya and Field Marshal Erwin Rommel takes effective command of Axis operations in North Africa. His counter attack against Field Marshal Wavell will push the British back to the Egyptian frontier.
Meanwhile, the Germans consolidate their gains and infl uence in Eastern Europe. German forces put down a rebellion by the fascist Iron Guard in Rumania, helping to stabilize General Antonescu’s government, unleashing for the fi rst time some of the horrifi c weapons being developed by S-III. Yugoslavia is pressured into joining the Axis and the SD assassinates Hungarian Prime Minister Teleki in order to coerce the Hungarian government into a more enthusiastic role regarding their alliance with the Reich. To counteract the growing Axis domination of Eastern Europe, the British back a rebellion in Yugoslavia that forces the Germans to commit valuable resources to stabilizing the region and delays the more ambitious military campaign they have planned. To remove the British presence in southern Europe, German forces invade Greece, initiating a brutal campaign that will see the ancient nation subjugated by the invaders. The SS plays a pivotal role in this invasion, employing their own unnatural weapons as they spearhead the assault. A fi erce battle is fought on the slopes of Mt. Olympus, the legendary seat of Greece’s ancient gods. After the SS captures the mountain, the Greek spirit is broken and the campaign degenerates into a fi ghting withdrawal. The dark, arcane secrets the SS plunders from the eldritch ruins atop Olympus they keep to themselves. Pursuing the escaping British and Greek forces, General Student launches a massive invasion of Crete, depending heavily on a bold and extensive para-drop of elite Fallschirmjaeger and the use of terrible SD monstrosities, cyborg beasts the British derisively term ‘Scarecrows’ and ‘Emaciated Troops’. At this stage, the uncontrolled ferocity of the Emaciated Troopers is more of a liability than an asset and the advantage the SD has promised General Student is far less than expected. Already outnumbered, the berserk rampages of several Emaciated Troopers further swells German losses in the operation. Heydrich successfully shifts blame for the appalling decimation of the elite paratroops to poor planning and tactics on Student’s part rather than the untried and untested nature of the SD weaponry. The Führer places a moratorium on large-scale paratroop operations and removes Student from active command of combat units.
In Iraq, Rashid Ali stages an uprising, deposing King Faisal II. With the support of the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, Haj Amin el-Husseini, he whips large portions of the Iraqi military into open rebellion against the British. Overtures to Germany and Italy lead Iraq to alliance with the Axis and both the Luftwaffe and Italy’s Regio Aeronautica send bombers to support the Iraqi cause. The SD, seeing a perfect theatre to fi eld-test their hideous weapons without endangering German soldiers, also makes a contribution to the rebellion. However, the Iraqis are poorly equipped and poorly trained. Despite their fi erce determination, they are quickly overwhelmed by the British and Indian forces pouring into their country. Rashid Ali and the Grand Mufti fl ee to Turkey only a few days before Baghdad falls and the country is subjugated by the British. Victory in Iraq does not end the campaign in the Middle East however, Commonwealth forces press on into the French colony of Syria, vying with Vichy forces for control of the ancient country. Vichy claims of neutrality ring hollow – it is from Syrian airfi elds that both German and Italian planes staged their attacks during the Iraq campaign. Within a month, the colony falls to the British and Free French.
Desperate to salvage the situation in North Africa, Field Marshal Wavell appoints General Neame commander of British forces in Egypt. The new commander heads to the front lines to assess the tactical situation, accompanied by the Western Desert Force commander General O’Connor. Through their arcane methods, the reconnaissance mission is discovered by the mystics of the SS and the information brought to Rommel. With the prospect of capturing two such prominent British commanders too promising to pass up, Rommel agrees to the plan the SS proposes to him, sending a small unit of specialists to track and subdue the enemy offi cers. The ‘specialists’ are a pack of werewolves, savage creatures maintained by the sorcerers of the ‘Schwarze Sonne’ organization within the SS. The monsters successfully track down the generals, but in their feral fury they do not capture the men, they slaughter them. Appalled, Rommel orders the SS out of his theatre of operations. Rommel’s disgust at the unconscionable tactics of the SS spreads to other generals in the Wehrmacht, further souring the already tense and suspicious relationship between the SS and the regular German armed forces.
The Führer assembles the largest invasion force seen in history for ‘Operation Barbarossa’, the attack on Soviet Russia. The Germans send 110 infantry divisions, 17 armor divisions and 13 motorized divisions and are supported by 14 Rumanian and 2 Hungarian divisions. Soviet military strength is an imposing 32 armored divisions and 138 infantry divisions and outnumbers the airpower of the Luftwaffe by a factor of nearly three to one. However, much of the Soviet equipment is obsolete and in poor repair. The offi cer corps of the Red Army has suffered disastrously from Stalin’s purges, resulting in a critical shortage of experienced and skilled commanders. Communist control over the Soviet military further reduces their effi ciency, effectively placing political offi cers in command of the military. Combined with insane orders dispatched from Moscow forbidding the Red Army from provoking an ‘incident’ with the Germans, the invading fascists make tremendous gains in the opening days of Operation Barbarossa. When the restricting orders imposed by Stalin are revoked a week into the invasion and a policy of ‘total resistance and scorched earth’ becomes the law of the
land, the Germans are already deep inside Russia and striking for their objectives at Leningrad and Moscow while the Finns have launched their own invasion in the north. The brutal policies imposed by the Soviets and the ruthless implementation of scorched earth tactics in the face of the advancing fascists cause many Russian peasants to welcome the invaders as liberators. Entire Soviet divisions surrender to German forces rather than die in the suicidal ‘human wave’ assaults demanded of them by Communist commissars. The initial good will of the Russians quickly fades, however. Emboldened by the ease with which fascist forces have conquered Soviet territory, the Führer issues orders that see SS units roving behind the front lines ruthlessly stalking Russian communities for communists and other ‘undesirables’ while Wehrmacht troops are forbidden to take commissars prisoner, commanded to execute any suspected communist on sight. The SD has free reign to use injured Soviet soldiers in their abominable experiments, but the operatives of S-III make little distinction between Russian citizens and Russian soldiers. Such draconian policies result in several atrocities and cause the Russian people to wonder if they have traded their communist overlords for something even worse.
The German invasion of Russia causes formerly antagonistic nations to make overtures of alliance to Stalin’s brutal regime. FDR extends the US Lend-Lease policy to the USSR. The British stage a joint invasion of Iran with Soviet forces, deposing the pro-Axis Shah and removing the serious
threat that the rich Iranian oil fi elds might fall into German hands. The Soviets in particular display a ruthless campaign, bombing the cities of Tehran and Tabriz.
Trying to break Rommel’s dominance of North Africa, Churchill replaces Field Marshal Wavell with General Auchinleck as commander in Egypt. The campaign he launches against Rommel pushes the Desert Fox back across the frontier all the way to El Agheila and relieves the long siege of the city of Tobruk. However, Auchinlek is unable to break the Afrika Korps and while Rommel has lost territory, he has preserved much of his valuable resources. The campaign elsewhere in Africa continues to favour the British. Italian forces, long on the defensive, surrender in Eritrea and other Italian colonies.
With German forces laying siege to Leningrad and within artillery range of Moscow’s suburbs, Stalin places his most capable military commander in charge of the defence of the Soviet capital. Marshal Zhukov waits until the cold Russian winter sets in, and then launches a massive and fi erce counterattack that catches the Germans by complete surprise. The over-extended German lines quickly break and the myth of German invincibility is shattered as fascist forces are forced back by the Soviet assault. The Führer, in a fi t of fury, relieves Field Marshal von Rundstedt of command for abandoning Rostov in the face of Soviet attack. His rage at the reversal in Germany’s fortunes in Russia also causes him to seize direct command of the German military, placing himself as Commander in Chief of the Wehrmacht.
In the Pacfi c, Prince Konoye is replaced by General Tojo as Prime Minister of Japan. Less than two months later, a Japanese fl eet under the command of Admiral Nagumo launches a surprise attack against the American naval base at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. The Japanese assault on Pear Harbor sinks fi ve battleships and damages three others, but the aircraft carriers that had been the objective of their attack are not present. Almost simultaneous with the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Japanese launch invasions of the Philippines, Malaya, Thailand, Hong Kong, the Gilbert Islands, Guam, Borneo and Wake Island. General MacArthur mobilizes the Filipino army and the US forces stationed in the Philippines in an effort to delay the Japanese as long as possible before withdrawing to the Bataan Peninsula and the island fortress of Corregidor.
1942 - MacArthur’s defense of the Philippines is shattered when Japanese pilots knock out the Calumpit Bridge, preventing his troops from withdrawing from Manila to Bataan. Although the few defenders on Corregidor continue to resist, the troops trapped in Manila and the small force that has already reached Bataan are subdued within the fi rst weeks of January. MacArthur is ordered to abandon the Philippines and withdraws to Australia to organize Allied forces there. In the aftermath of their successes in the Philippines, the Japanese invade the Dutch East Indies,
New Britain, Burma and Sumatra.
In Russia, the Germans fi nally manage to stop the Soviet counterattack, but before they can make any gains against the broken communists, the spring thaw sets in, turning the ground into a morass of mud and mire. Both sides of the confl ict are unable to move large numbers of troops until conditions become more favourable. In an effort to break the deadlock, the Führer agrees to an alliance with a Russian nationalist group that has been staging attacks against both German and Soviet forces from their bases deep in the Princept Marshes. The ROA, the Russian Liberation Army, is commanded by a renegade Red Army general, Andrei Vlasov, who sees himself as the champion of the tsarist cause. The real power in his organization, however, is the sinister creature known as ‘the Prophet’, a loathsome echo of Russia’s tsarist past, Gregori Yefi movitch Rasputin, the
