Welcome to my very first AAR. I am doing this on Australia, wish me luck. I am playing with 1.04 so the AI isn't TOO shoddy lol.
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Chapter 1 – The End
Harry Grahams squashed himself flat against the rough ground. Shards of dirt mixed up with stone were flying up to the right of him.
“Fuck it, get moving you” muttered Harry as he tried to conceal himself from the German machine gunner by forcing himself into a minute corner of cover. Harry’s order was received with cursing but a fierce look from Harry successfully ended the discussion. The squad prepared to move out,
“All ready? Right, let’s go kill us some Krowts!” everyone nodded as Harry finished and before they knew it Harry was yelling
“Go go go!” Led by a Private they burst out of cover and began sprinting across the scarred street. Immediately the poor private fell as 3 bullets tore right through his uniform and entered his body. His best friend dropped down beside him and tried to pull the dead soldier with him, he also received a bullet to the head and a bewildered expression occupied his face.
Dodging bullets and leaping over bullet-ridden bodies they finally arrived at a tall stone building that used to be a Hotel. This decrepit looking edifice was battered and a huge hole presumably caused by an artillery shell revealed the second floor. They entered and for a second had a bit of respite from the bitter fighting in the streets.
Some backstreets in the now destroyed Berlin.
“Sir, we lost Blacky and Walters,” shouted Corporal Smith over the incessant chatter of machine guns and artillery explosions.
“I know, we’ll get ‘em later, first we’ve got to take out that machine gun,” replied Harry. “I want Smith, Sharpy, Atkins and Penny with me on the left flank, Fish and Baron I want you two to stay here and set up a base of fire. The rest of you go down the right flank. Keep moving forward until they have to reload, then when we get close use your grenades, all clear?”
The rest grunted in agreement and they were off again. Luck seemed to be on their side as the flanking attack supported by the base of fire confused the machine gunner. He did not know which flank to shoot at so just tried to spread his fire evenly over the two. However it was not long before his gun had run out of ammo and he needed to reload. As soon as he stopped firing a grenade thumped onto the corner of the sandbag bunker and bounced into his firing position. He cried out in German and hastily reached for the bomb to attempt to throw it back. It must have been one of those new short fuse grenades because before he could reach it the grenade exploded. A great ball of flames erupted into the sky tearing the machine gun nest and its contents apart. Immediately after that another 5 explosions followed in the same vicinity of the last blast, evidently half of Harry’s squad had used their grenades. The remaining German troops who remained at the roadblock dropped their weapons, turned and ran down the street, they were running for dear life. Harry’s squad who had just arrived at the former roadblock raised their weapons and sprayed the street with bullets. The escaping Germans fell instantaneously with a thump.
“Casualties?” Demanded Harry,
“Errrr, Anderson was torn to pieces by that machine gun Sir. The medics are trying to patch him p but it doesn’t look to good.” Corporal Smith replied shaking his head.
Harry stomped over to the squirming figure of Anderson. He looked in a sorry state; blood was spilling from him like he was a keg of red wine that had sprung a thousand leaks. His intestines were pouring out of his stomach that had been ripped apart. His life was over; Harry’s eyes were shining with tears. After a minute he was dead. Motionless. The German’s had claimed another life, he was only a young man, 19 years of age and his whole life lay ahead of him. Or it would have if he hadn’t been killed. Harry did not try to hide the tears that were slowly running down his face, he gripped his Thompson sub machine gun and fired a whole magazine into a dead German soldier.
“Five minutes then we’re off, I want to capture me a villain,” yelled Harry.
“What you on about Sir?” asked Sergeant Sharpy.
“Do you even know what’s down that road, at the end of this goddamned Boulevard there is a certain building called the Reich Chancellery and in that building there is a man named Adolf Hitler. We are going to be the ones who gets him!” Harry grinned as he told the squad this.
The squad were as excited as anything, they felt that the day of reckoning had finally come, they were going to be made stars and Hitler was going to be taken prisoner. After canteens had been refilled and weapons reloaded they set off again with renewed vigour. They began advancing down the road being careful not to step on dead Germans. There was no firing, two young women stood on the pavement or what was left of it and stared in bewilderment at these new young men. They were not how the Nazis portrayed them, ravaging beasts that would rape on site. They were just ordinary young men who did not necessarily want the War. It was the politicians who had wanted a War, not these poor young men.
The squad reached the final house before the Reichstag without major incident. Scattered troops had confronted them but the battle worn Germans defending every inch of ground like it was sacred could no longer stop their bodies from just collapsing. Continuous shelling and constant fighting had pushed each one to the brink of lunacy. They entered the house to prepare the attack on the Reich Chancellery.
Harry Grahams squashed himself flat against the rough ground. Shards of dirt mixed up with stone were flying up to the right of him.
“Fuck it, get moving you” muttered Harry as he tried to conceal himself from the German machine gunner by forcing himself into a minute corner of cover. Harry’s order was received with cursing but a fierce look from Harry successfully ended the discussion. The squad prepared to move out,
“All ready? Right, let’s go kill us some Krowts!” everyone nodded as Harry finished and before they knew it Harry was yelling
“Go go go!” Led by a Private they burst out of cover and began sprinting across the scarred street. Immediately the poor private fell as 3 bullets tore right through his uniform and entered his body. His best friend dropped down beside him and tried to pull the dead soldier with him, he also received a bullet to the head and a bewildered expression occupied his face.
Dodging bullets and leaping over bullet-ridden bodies they finally arrived at a tall stone building that used to be a Hotel. This decrepit looking edifice was battered and a huge hole presumably caused by an artillery shell revealed the second floor. They entered and for a second had a bit of respite from the bitter fighting in the streets.
Some backstreets in the now destroyed Berlin.
“Sir, we lost Blacky and Walters,” shouted Corporal Smith over the incessant chatter of machine guns and artillery explosions.
“I know, we’ll get ‘em later, first we’ve got to take out that machine gun,” replied Harry. “I want Smith, Sharpy, Atkins and Penny with me on the left flank, Fish and Baron I want you two to stay here and set up a base of fire. The rest of you go down the right flank. Keep moving forward until they have to reload, then when we get close use your grenades, all clear?”
The rest grunted in agreement and they were off again. Luck seemed to be on their side as the flanking attack supported by the base of fire confused the machine gunner. He did not know which flank to shoot at so just tried to spread his fire evenly over the two. However it was not long before his gun had run out of ammo and he needed to reload. As soon as he stopped firing a grenade thumped onto the corner of the sandbag bunker and bounced into his firing position. He cried out in German and hastily reached for the bomb to attempt to throw it back. It must have been one of those new short fuse grenades because before he could reach it the grenade exploded. A great ball of flames erupted into the sky tearing the machine gun nest and its contents apart. Immediately after that another 5 explosions followed in the same vicinity of the last blast, evidently half of Harry’s squad had used their grenades. The remaining German troops who remained at the roadblock dropped their weapons, turned and ran down the street, they were running for dear life. Harry’s squad who had just arrived at the former roadblock raised their weapons and sprayed the street with bullets. The escaping Germans fell instantaneously with a thump.
“Casualties?” Demanded Harry,
“Errrr, Anderson was torn to pieces by that machine gun Sir. The medics are trying to patch him p but it doesn’t look to good.” Corporal Smith replied shaking his head.
Harry stomped over to the squirming figure of Anderson. He looked in a sorry state; blood was spilling from him like he was a keg of red wine that had sprung a thousand leaks. His intestines were pouring out of his stomach that had been ripped apart. His life was over; Harry’s eyes were shining with tears. After a minute he was dead. Motionless. The German’s had claimed another life, he was only a young man, 19 years of age and his whole life lay ahead of him. Or it would have if he hadn’t been killed. Harry did not try to hide the tears that were slowly running down his face, he gripped his Thompson sub machine gun and fired a whole magazine into a dead German soldier.
“Five minutes then we’re off, I want to capture me a villain,” yelled Harry.
“What you on about Sir?” asked Sergeant Sharpy.
“Do you even know what’s down that road, at the end of this goddamned Boulevard there is a certain building called the Reich Chancellery and in that building there is a man named Adolf Hitler. We are going to be the ones who gets him!” Harry grinned as he told the squad this.
The squad were as excited as anything, they felt that the day of reckoning had finally come, they were going to be made stars and Hitler was going to be taken prisoner. After canteens had been refilled and weapons reloaded they set off again with renewed vigour. They began advancing down the road being careful not to step on dead Germans. There was no firing, two young women stood on the pavement or what was left of it and stared in bewilderment at these new young men. They were not how the Nazis portrayed them, ravaging beasts that would rape on site. They were just ordinary young men who did not necessarily want the War. It was the politicians who had wanted a War, not these poor young men.
The squad reached the final house before the Reichstag without major incident. Scattered troops had confronted them but the battle worn Germans defending every inch of ground like it was sacred could no longer stop their bodies from just collapsing. Continuous shelling and constant fighting had pushed each one to the brink of lunacy. They entered the house to prepare the attack on the Reich Chancellery.
Chapter 2 - A Game of Spies
Jones sat at the stainless steel table on the rock hard seat tapping his foot impatiently. Bright sunshine shone down from the sky, he squinted up at it, the Eiffel Tower cutting sharply into the endless eye watering glittering sea of yellow and orange. He lifted a hand to protect his eyes from the intense glare of the sun and after another moment of admiring the great structure lowered his head. He glanced at his watch, Pierre was late and cursing under his breath shifted his weight on the chair. As Jones finished his second cup of coffee he looked up and caught the eye of a pretty young waitress. Her slim figure sidled toward his table holding a small tattered booklet in her hand.
“Ah bonjour madame, something to drink I think, could I please have a cappuccino and…”
“Make that two,” a voice grunted. The maid turned her head around and Jones briskly stood up holding out his hand.
“Ah, at last Pierre.” The Frenchman took his hand and shook it, “Yes please madame and make that two cappuccino’s.”
“Oui, monsieur.” The maid folded her notebook up and walked away her high heels clicking on the paving stones with every step she took.
Pierre sat down heavily, his chair grinding against the solid stones. He did not seem to be in a good mood, the stubble that hugged his chin had been allowed to grow into the beginnings of a beard. His hands were unclean and there was dirt under his fingernails and Pierre’s skin was grubby and looked like he could do with a good clean.
“Where the devil have you been then my Goodman?” asked Jones in a typically British fashion. There was a hint of annoyance in his voice but Pierre failed to notice this.
“Shhh, keep your voice down, do you want to be caught by the Gestapo. I know I certainly don’t, now listen to me because I will only say this once.” Pierre furtively glanced around him and then bent his head toward the middle of the table; Jones inclined his head as well, keen to hear what was to be said.
Chapter 2 will be continued tomorrow when my brain stops hurting
Jones sat at the stainless steel table on the rock hard seat tapping his foot impatiently. Bright sunshine shone down from the sky, he squinted up at it, the Eiffel Tower cutting sharply into the endless eye watering glittering sea of yellow and orange. He lifted a hand to protect his eyes from the intense glare of the sun and after another moment of admiring the great structure lowered his head. He glanced at his watch, Pierre was late and cursing under his breath shifted his weight on the chair. As Jones finished his second cup of coffee he looked up and caught the eye of a pretty young waitress. Her slim figure sidled toward his table holding a small tattered booklet in her hand.
“Ah bonjour madame, something to drink I think, could I please have a cappuccino and…”
“Make that two,” a voice grunted. The maid turned her head around and Jones briskly stood up holding out his hand.
“Ah, at last Pierre.” The Frenchman took his hand and shook it, “Yes please madame and make that two cappuccino’s.”
“Oui, monsieur.” The maid folded her notebook up and walked away her high heels clicking on the paving stones with every step she took.
Pierre sat down heavily, his chair grinding against the solid stones. He did not seem to be in a good mood, the stubble that hugged his chin had been allowed to grow into the beginnings of a beard. His hands were unclean and there was dirt under his fingernails and Pierre’s skin was grubby and looked like he could do with a good clean.
“Where the devil have you been then my Goodman?” asked Jones in a typically British fashion. There was a hint of annoyance in his voice but Pierre failed to notice this.
“Shhh, keep your voice down, do you want to be caught by the Gestapo. I know I certainly don’t, now listen to me because I will only say this once.” Pierre furtively glanced around him and then bent his head toward the middle of the table; Jones inclined his head as well, keen to hear what was to be said.
Chapter 2 will be continued tomorrow when my brain stops hurting
A couple of cliched names does not an Australian AAR make, when can we expect some more? Soon?
Duritz.
Duritz.
i probably should explain. I begin with the end, some Australian troops are entering Berlin ready to destroy the Reich.
The story flys back to the year 1940 (because nothing happened between 36' and 40'). I will tell the AAR with the experiences from each character.
The next instalmetn will be coming later today btw, got to go ta school see you guys later.
The story flys back to the year 1940 (because nothing happened between 36' and 40'). I will tell the AAR with the experiences from each character.
The next instalmetn will be coming later today btw, got to go ta school
see you guys later.
Chapter 2 - Continued
Jones was an Australian. Born in Perth he moved to London when he was just a child with his family. This explained his heavy British accent. A strapping young man he joined the Belgian army when the War broke out. The reason he joined the Belgians instead of the Aussies was because the stagnant Australian Army were as likely to move as a frenchman living next to a brothel.
In the War he rose through the ranks very quickly. He was captured in Belgium but escaped, set up some Guerilla operations and was finally rescued just before the British evacutaed Dunkirk. He showed great skill at inflitrating the enemy lines so he had been signed up to the British secret service. We now rejoin our Australian spy in the Bar with Pierre.
"Here are your orders Mr Jones, you are to extract back rto england immediately, here are the things you will need for the extraction." Pierre handed him a small brown package, Jones turned it round and studided it.
"So whats happening then my good man Pierre, invasion of France, a bit of capture, torture, interrogation and escape back in time for tea and crumpets eh?" Jones joked.
"No, I'm afraid its much more serious than that, you better leave now."
Jones stood up and shook hands with Pierre before dissappearing into the crowds of Parisiens.
Jones was an Australian. Born in Perth he moved to London when he was just a child with his family. This explained his heavy British accent. A strapping young man he joined the Belgian army when the War broke out. The reason he joined the Belgians instead of the Aussies was because the stagnant Australian Army were as likely to move as a frenchman living next to a brothel.
In the War he rose through the ranks very quickly. He was captured in Belgium but escaped, set up some Guerilla operations and was finally rescued just before the British evacutaed Dunkirk. He showed great skill at inflitrating the enemy lines so he had been signed up to the British secret service. We now rejoin our Australian spy in the Bar with Pierre.
* * * * *
"Here are your orders Mr Jones, you are to extract back rto england immediately, here are the things you will need for the extraction." Pierre handed him a small brown package, Jones turned it round and studided it.
"So whats happening then my good man Pierre, invasion of France, a bit of capture, torture, interrogation and escape back in time for tea and crumpets eh?" Jones joked.
"No, I'm afraid its much more serious than that, you better leave now."
Jones stood up and shook hands with Pierre before dissappearing into the crowds of Parisiens.
Here is the poster for my AAR, lol, I have seen them for other AAR's so I thought 'what the hell!? I want one too', so here it is
i believe its spelt Krauts
and that picture are the bubles to cover up things that arent australian? But anyway i like this keep it up.
update coming soon, in under a days time, takes ages to write though lol, long one, I did have a really action packed one but the damn builders turned the electricity off so the computer went off and I lost all my hard efforts.
More soon!
turned the electricity off so the computer went off and I lost all my hard efforts. More soon!
Chapter 3 - An Australian in Africa
"Goodday men, whats up?"
"Nothing Sarge" replied a burly soldier, lieing topless on the sand resting his head against a large rock.
"Smarten yourself up Private, new orders, we're moving out in half an hour."
Everybody sat up and turned to listen to the Sergeant.
"Well bugger me with a fish fork, thats dandy. Whats cooking?" asked Private Sanders in his usual joking fashion.
"You'll see, full kit at HQ in half an hour,"
The Sergeant strutted away kicking up mini clouds of dirt.
"Hehe, we're going to Germany to kill us some Germans, here come the Kangaroos" sang some of the soldiers, delighted to be moving out finally.
"Exscuse me, but I doubt we are going to Germany," said a Lance Corporal calmly, "we are more likely to go to Africa."
"Whatever, Italians, Germans or Slovakians, they are all dead!"
The squad cheered and hastily began to button their shirts and pack their kit.
When, in about 30 minutes, the group of soldiers had packed into the small HQ room, a fat colonel stood up, adjusted his shorts and cleared his throat.
"Goodday men, whats up?"
"Nothing Sarge" replied a burly soldier, lieing topless on the sand resting his head against a large rock.
"Smarten yourself up Private, new orders, we're moving out in half an hour."
Everybody sat up and turned to listen to the Sergeant.
"Well bugger me with a fish fork, thats dandy. Whats cooking?" asked Private Sanders in his usual joking fashion.
"You'll see, full kit at HQ in half an hour,"
The Sergeant strutted away kicking up mini clouds of dirt.
"Hehe, we're going to Germany to kill us some Germans, here come the Kangaroos" sang some of the soldiers, delighted to be moving out finally.
"Exscuse me, but I doubt we are going to Germany," said a Lance Corporal calmly, "we are more likely to go to Africa."
"Whatever, Italians, Germans or Slovakians, they are all dead!"
The squad cheered and hastily began to button their shirts and pack their kit.
When, in about 30 minutes, the group of soldiers had packed into the small HQ room, a fat colonel stood up, adjusted his shorts and cleared his throat.
Chapter 3 - Continued
"Now boys, it is time to enter the War" bellowed Colonel Gregg Smith. "We are going to Kismayo." This didnt have quite the desired effect, there were mutterings. Where was Kismayo?
"Africa! It is currently held by the British, we will arrive and kick the italians out of Africa!" yelled the Colonel into the confused silence. Suddenly there was a roar of excitement, the Australian army was going to see some action.
"There is only 1 transport avaliable to us so we will have to ship 1 division at a time and that is us. Get all your belongings and go to Harbour 62. Huah!"
"Huah!" answered the gathered troops.
Throughout the day, as soldiers were saying goodbye to their loved ones, Officers getting ready ammo and supplies, NCO''s looking after the men, there was a great sense ofanticipation in the air. When the time finally came to set sail the men suddenly fell silent. The sight of that great steel beast solemnly sitting in the Harbour chilled their bones. The thought that they could actually die crossed their minds, they might never see their families ever again. Each soldier had yearned for combat, maybe to prove that they could handle war just like the British or maybe they just wanted to expel evil from the world, but now the time had come were they ready?
The rattling plane touched down heavily and for a second Jones thought that it would tip right over. However, the plane slowed to a halt and the two British Privates that had been with him on the tin pot plane jumped out into the dazzling sunshine. Jones poked his head out of the small doorway and took a deep breath of the beautiful British summer air filled with the scents of roses and fresh grass. A buzzing Dixie record was playing on a gramophone, a clarinet flitting over the top of a perfect melody. Five or six British airmen lazily sat around in wooden chairs, some reading and a few playing cards. Jones finally jumped down onto the hard ground, his numb body shook violently as he made contact. A big black staff car pulled up and a smartly dressed officer stepped out and began to walk toward Jones.
“Jones is it?” he enquired.
“Yes, that’s me.” Jones replied stretching and yawning at the same time.
“We have been waiting for you, if you kindly come with me.”
“Sure, lets go.” Said Jones clambering into the luxuriously furnished Staff car. He was tempted to stretch out on the soft seats and drift off into a deep sleep. That plane was so uncomfortable he would have found it easier sleeping in a rat-infested trench.
"Now boys, it is time to enter the War" bellowed Colonel Gregg Smith. "We are going to Kismayo." This didnt have quite the desired effect, there were mutterings. Where was Kismayo?
"Africa! It is currently held by the British, we will arrive and kick the italians out of Africa!" yelled the Colonel into the confused silence. Suddenly there was a roar of excitement, the Australian army was going to see some action.
"There is only 1 transport avaliable to us so we will have to ship 1 division at a time and that is us. Get all your belongings and go to Harbour 62. Huah!"
"Huah!" answered the gathered troops.
Throughout the day, as soldiers were saying goodbye to their loved ones, Officers getting ready ammo and supplies, NCO''s looking after the men, there was a great sense ofanticipation in the air. When the time finally came to set sail the men suddenly fell silent. The sight of that great steel beast solemnly sitting in the Harbour chilled their bones. The thought that they could actually die crossed their minds, they might never see their families ever again. Each soldier had yearned for combat, maybe to prove that they could handle war just like the British or maybe they just wanted to expel evil from the world, but now the time had come were they ready?
* * * * *
The rattling plane touched down heavily and for a second Jones thought that it would tip right over. However, the plane slowed to a halt and the two British Privates that had been with him on the tin pot plane jumped out into the dazzling sunshine. Jones poked his head out of the small doorway and took a deep breath of the beautiful British summer air filled with the scents of roses and fresh grass. A buzzing Dixie record was playing on a gramophone, a clarinet flitting over the top of a perfect melody. Five or six British airmen lazily sat around in wooden chairs, some reading and a few playing cards. Jones finally jumped down onto the hard ground, his numb body shook violently as he made contact. A big black staff car pulled up and a smartly dressed officer stepped out and began to walk toward Jones.
“Jones is it?” he enquired.
“Yes, that’s me.” Jones replied stretching and yawning at the same time.
“We have been waiting for you, if you kindly come with me.”
“Sure, lets go.” Said Jones clambering into the luxuriously furnished Staff car. He was tempted to stretch out on the soft seats and drift off into a deep sleep. That plane was so uncomfortable he would have found it easier sleeping in a rat-infested trench.
Last edited:
sorry to leave you in the middle of the story, i will update the rest of the chapter in a few hours.