• 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.

deadmancomand

Captain
46 Badges
Aug 3, 2005
428
94
  • Crusader Kings II: Monks and Mystics
  • Crusader Kings II: Horse Lords
  • Cities: Skylines - After Dark
  • Crusader Kings II: Conclave
  • Stellaris
  • Hearts of Iron IV Sign-up
  • Stellaris Sign-up
  • Hearts of Iron IV: Cadet
  • Hearts of Iron IV: Colonel
  • Hearts of Iron IV: Field Marshal
  • Crusader Kings II: Reapers Due
  • Stellaris: Leviathans Story Pack
  • Crusader Kings II: Way of Life
  • Cities: Skylines - Mass Transit
  • Surviving Mars
  • Hearts of Iron IV: Death or Dishonor
  • Age of Wonders III
  • Crusader Kings II: Jade Dragon
  • Hearts of Iron IV: Expansion Pass
  • Shadowrun Returns
  • Hearts of Iron IV: Expansion Pass
  • Prison Architect
  • Hearts of Iron IV: La Resistance
  • Europa Universalis IV
  • Crusader Kings II: Charlemagne
  • Crusader Kings II: Legacy of Rome
  • Crusader Kings II: The Old Gods
  • Crusader Kings II: Rajas of India
  • Crusader Kings II: The Republic
  • Crusader Kings II: Sons of Abraham
  • Crusader Kings II: Sunset Invasion
  • Crusader Kings II: Sword of Islam
  • Europa Universalis III
  • Europa Universalis III: Chronicles
  • Divine Wind
  • Crusader Kings II
  • For the Motherland
  • Hearts of Iron III
  • Heir to the Throne
  • Magicka
  • Victoria: Revolutions
  • Semper Fi
  • Victoria 2
  • Victoria 2: A House Divided
  • Victoria 2: Heart of Darkness
  • Cities: Skylines
Editor's Note


At the end of the Great Patriotic War, as it is known in Russia, there were many Russians who had fought. Millions, really. Between conscription or simply being in the path of the battles, almost every Russian man and most women recieved a taste of battle. Most were very short, and very rare, nothing more than seeing it in the distance, or fighting in a small engagement. However, there were some who faced battle after battle, those few who survived on as the advance into Germany and the other Axis countries continued. Many of them would come to be known as heroes for their actions in battle, and many of them would not live to see the end of the war. Some were hearalded and rewarded, though most faded from the limelight, remembered only by those who they directly affected. Some were national heros, awarded medals by the top generals of the Red Army, turning the tide of battles and leading the charge into Germany and the other Axis countries. Others might have jumped on a grenade and saved a few friends, while others sprinted across a battlefield to deliver a message that would save a trapped company. Whatever the case, the vast majority of these stories were lost with time, lost to aging memories, or the loss of records. Many heroes are no longer known to us for these reasons.

However, some stories did make it. One story in particular made an impact one one who knew it, and he was determined not to let this story be forgotton. He found an author, Georgie Putin, and told the story to him. This book was then written about a certain young officer in the Red Army, a single soldier among the millions that comprised the Red Army. The book was written not more than a few years after the Great Patriotic War, when his memories were still fresh. However, this book was not published until now, early in the next century from when it was supposed to be printed, in the new millennium. This was after the fall of the Soviet Union, and the breakup of the Communist alliance in existance since the late 1920s. When the regimes fell, so did the restrictions on what could be published. No longer were books praising or highlighting the individual over the collective entity forbidden. No longer were the indiviual tales of the GPW, the personal accounts, the stories about one man's experiences banned from publication. And so, when the book finally hit bookshelves more than fifty years after it was written, and sixty years after the events that it speaks of, the tale of Pavel Alekseyev was finally allowed to be told.

The tale was at times happy, at times sad, and a few times a bit slow, but mostly it was amazing. The story of Pavel Alexseyev is one that inspires the spirit, and revives feelings of heroism and glory. But let this description of a few pieces of paper hold you no longer, dear readers, and look upon them to experience the adventures of this man these few years ago. So, without further adieu or introduction, here is The Power of One(underlined), by Georgie Putin, as told to him by Sacha Vierdolisk.




OOC: So, here it is: the third AAR by deadmancomand, as if that really means a whole lot. Anyway, know that when I write about how the book is here, I simply am adding to the scenario. How good or bad it will be depends solely on how I do here and now. So I hope you enjoy it, and pleasant reading from here on in.
 
Chapter One: One More Statistic


I ducked as I saw the flash, and not a second later the force of the artillery shell bursting nearby sent me the rest of the way to the ground. The night sky was illuminated for a brief moment, showing me the ruined battlefield and the destruction that was all around. The Rodina, our birthplace, our land, our home, she was was under attack, and we were going to defend her till the last of us dropped dead. Up until a few days ago, this would have been unthinkable, fighting on ground that was ours home. We had been making slow progress against the Germans, but now, in the center sector, we had been pushed back. Knowing this, I moved forward with the rest of the survivors of my unit, and we moved into a partially destroyed brick house. We set up the machine gun in the window, and I climbed up onto the roof to act as a spotter for it. As I looked over the area we were fighting over, the ruined and barren landscape horrified me. This, this nothing, this field, empty of everything save craters, trenchs, bodies, and destroyed vehicles, was what were were fighting over. It was easy spotting, though, for anything that wasn't moving towards the front lines and the Germans could be shot at.

Time passed as we stayed in the house, resting but still on edge, and I called out targets one after another. Flash after flash from artillery impacts and other explosions kept lighting the black sky, though some were blocked by the smoke that was overtaking the plain. The weapon in the window below me rang out over and over, spitting bullets and death towards the hated enemy. They had killed innumerable of our brothers, and it was time that we returned the favor. We cheered every time we found and felled a target, however terrible that might sound now. But, you have to understand, We hated the enemy so bad for all that they had done, killing our countrymen and ruining our lives, and for all that we were told about them.

About a half hour later, as the battle still raged, the final elements of our division, 4th Tanks Division, came from the left to come and rescue the rest of the trapped unit. We had been encircled and split up, driven back. But now, now we were on the offensive once again, as we were meant to be. The T-34s spit fire, and the explosions killed tanks and men, raising our spirits and giving the encircled men a ray of hope. We watched as they rolled towards the trapped trench lines, supporting the men fighting there. I looked through my binoculars at the fight in the trenches, and concentrated on what I saw, closing out the other feelings I felt at the time. The deafening noise from the machine gun, the cool night spring breeze flowing across the roof, the splintered wood I lay upon, all distracted me. I shut them out, and watched. The fighting in the trenches was horrible to watch. It was man to man, hand to hand, weapons forgotten in many cases. I had to turn away...the brutality was too terrible to watch.

Soon, though, it was over, and we began to move forward for another assault. I climbed down from the roof and followed the rest of my unit down the stairs and out the door. I heard them calling to meas I climbed down, and I hurried down as their voices commanded. It was then that I saw him. He was a mess. Uniform torn and stained, face bloodied and blackened, barely able to stand as he hung on the door frame for support.

"Pavel?" He looked up slowly as I said his name in wonder. He must have stumbled back from the front from the look of him. A miracle had let him cross the plains without being shot, and I could not think why he had gone and done that, risking his life to fall back when the rest of us were advancing. It was then however, that I saw that he was weeping. I ran to him, and held him up. "Pavel! Are you alright!?"

"She's dead, she died!" He was yelling it out to me between sobs. He kept repeating it, over and over, that she was dead.

"Who is dead, Pavel?" He couldn't mean her...not her. What would she be doing out here?

"Sophie's dead!" He did, though. He meant her. Sophie was dead, and he had lost his composure, his toughness, his spirit, all because of that small and simple fact. Another number had been added to The Statistic, as we called the number of dead. But like every other number in it, someone had been affected by it, and this time, it turned out to be my friend Pavel. Sophie was dead, and things would never be the same.
 
Interesting stuff... please continue. :)
 
Thanks for your support. I have every intention of continuing this, unlike my previous two, which were more just for fun.
 
Chapter Two: In The Begining


Pavel, you see, Pavel was a political officer, and so everything he told us was supposed to be true. And so when he told me that he had been born on October 25th, 1917, I had no reason not to believe him. That our unit's political officer had been born on the day of the revolution might sound a bit funny, but we were young then, and really, we didn't care. Either way, Pavel was probably the most amiable officer, political or not, that I ever met. The fact that he actually talked with me outside of briefings put him ahead of most of the pack, and that he enjoyed the talks made him the best. Most officers were unapproachable, even if one had questions about the mission. Maybe that's why some of the more complicated plans failed...we just forgot what we were supposed to do.

But I digress. Pavel, now, he was a good officer. But, he was still an officer, and therefore our relationship, our friendship, it didn't really have a chance to grow until later. The two halves of our friendship, you could say, separated by the biggest event in his life.

pswithatruckp36kl.jpg

Sasha (left) and Pavel.

How we met, well, we just got assigned to the same unit, at about the same time. I'd been assigned to the unit, 4th Tanks, in about the middle of '35, right after getting out of the very basic training that conscripts went through. The unit was new, with the new inventions of war, tanks, as its main focus. It was exciting, but hard as well. The officers new their careers were made if they made this unit work, and so they hammered us day and night unit we achieved the results they wanted to get. The earliest promotion I can remember was our first political officer, the son of a high ranking official. So it's not a surprise how and why he got a quick promotion, and hey, it was better for me anyway.

And so Pavel Alexseyev came to the unit, and distinguished himself as a very non-traditional PO right from the start. He talked to many of us, and inspired us with great tales of communism and the glory and paradise that it brought. Also our old PO had just hung in the back when we ran training exercises, but not Pavel. No, he rode forward with us, and, like the mounted generals of the past, drove the fear from our hearts and pushed us forward.

This is how we met, he and I. You see, while he was very charismatic, Pavel just hadn't been trained in strategy, and didn't really know how to control us. And so I would meet up with him, and follow him around, and while he yelled encouragment, I reminded him of the plan that had been prepared. I gained a friend in the deal, and he kept looking good to his superiors, who rewarded him quickly. Thankfully, Pavel stayed with us in the fields outside of Baku as '35 turned to '36, and the winter turned to spring. Things were changing in that area, and we were going to be on the front lines of that change.
 
Promising start! Good to see another narrative AAR. :cool:
 
Chapter Three: Political Conflict


As we trained, we had to practice as if it were real war, as if the exercises we were doing were the real thing. This was hard to do though, because of the lack of tactics and the lack of realism, so our training wasn't all that it could be. We joked a lot during the training, or just snuck away and talked about the latest rumor. However, things had become interesting as summer turned to fall, as more and more rumors flew through the ranks of the unit. Were we getting moved? Deployed? Was there to be a war? There was so much information, most of it conflicting, that it made for a prosperous rumor mill. Nobody knew for sure except for the officers, and they weren't talking, not even Pavel. And so bets were placed, plans were made, and we all waited for the eventual conclusion.

Before I continue, I should say that after all had been said and done, I found several records that showed the stationing of units in each region, which was mostly based on the size of the border. We were in the Southern Area of Engagement, stationed in the plains of Baku, protecting the important oil fields there. How tanks were defensive, we didn't know, but Pavel had told us so, so we went with it. We were conscripts, you see, in charge of nothing, and responsible for everything.


sovnorthline6yo.jpg

The Northern Defensive Line


sovcenterline8hm.jpg

The Center Defensive Line


sovsouthline1kn.jpg

The Southern Defensive Line


All the rumors were dashed away, and some money made and lost, when the officers announced that we had been given an assignment, the first of many, some believed, an assignment to bring the glory of communism to another oppressed people. We were invading Persia, and were going to make or break the future of our tanks on this war. It was going to be our first war, and our experience here would serve as the basis of all future doctrine for tanks, the officers said. They were obviously very interested in how this went, and had much invested in it.


warwithpersia9ka.jpg

WAR!


Of course, Pavel was very motivated about this. He gave us long talks about how we were going to expand the reach of communism, and that we were freeing the people of Persia from their current tyrannical regime. He turned into a very political officer, and drove us all a little crazy. Everyone was here because we had to be, not because we were dedicated to freeing people we didn't care about. But to Pavel, this was like recieving permission as a child to eat as much as they wanted. So very excited he was, and I can't blame him. This was what he was here for.

And so, on New Years Day of 1937, we were at war, and away we went in our trucks and tanks across the mountains that separated us from the masses of oppresed that awaited our liberation. All the jokes, the sneaking away, all that had to end now. We had to work together, or face the consequences. Not surprisingly, most of us were terrified as we crossed the border, past the destroyed lookout posts. But as we had looked to each other for entertainment, we all, myself especially, looked to Pavel for courage and leadership, and he was all to happy to provide it. As we travelled, he told us stories of glory in the past, and challenged us to repeat the feats that he spoke of. And so we rode, off to war and battle.
 
Ooooh! War with Persia!
 
anonymous4401 said:
Ooooh! War with Persia!

Ah, interesting. I am looking forwards to your next post :)
 
Chapter Four: War


paveladvances9wx.jpg

The Soviets move on Persia


On the afternoon of January 12th, everything happened. After passing into Persia unopposed, and crossing the mountains in the north of that country, we faced real resistance when we were coming down the mountains into the lower hills. There were a lot of us, all four of the tank armies plus the cavalry army, I learned later. A lot of troops, a lot of forces. Either way, as we rolled down the mountains, we advanced into the defensive ring of the first Persian divisions. There weren't many of them, but we all knew that it didn't take many bullets to kill you, either. We heard the thundering of artillery from behind us, and a little while later, the explosions down below. We finally saw what they were capable of, and it scared us. When the tiny flashes of light from their artillery lit their area, we really got scared. If ours did that to them, what would theirs do to us?

When it hit behind us, we were very relieved, to say the least. Being one of the lead elements wasn't so bad now, we thought. Pavel, who was in the same truck as me, told us to stay calm, and even joked about the accuracy of the Persians. We laughed nervously at his joke, but it did help. We felt better after his words of encouragement, and that lasted until the Persians third volley. When that landed all around us, exploding the tank driving directly behind us, and killing the two men sitting at the end, we panicked. No way to really say otherwise, as that's what happened. The truck slammed back down onto the road after being pushed into the air by the exploson, and it broke the axle, stopping the truck in its path. We ran out of the back of it, Pavel yelling at us to not panic, and to gather at the front of the damn truck. We did out of blind obedience, and from there, he commanded us to follow the convoy down the road.

We did so, and the squad split up as we hopped onto different trucks as they rolled by. Pavel and I got on the last one, and arrived near the climax of the battle. We dismounted as we had trained to this time, and pressed forward as bullets flew by. Most missed, but a few struck my comrades, who fell around me and the other survivors. Pavel kept pushing us forward, however, and we closed in on the Persian line, which was falling back after our tanks had driven up on them.

The day wore on, and the sun started to dip as the fighting raged on. The day slowly started to turn to night as we progressed over the hills of this area. In truth, I had no idea where we were until we crested the last hill, and saw the lights of a city in the distance.

"Teheran, comrades! We have their capitol withen sight! Press on, and let no imperialist oppressor pig stand in your way!" Pavel shouted at the gathered men who gazed upon the city we had to capture. We then ran down the hill towards the fleeing Persian units, chasing them down as the tanks made their way slowly up the hill behind us. Shots rang out as we paused to fire, spitting death and ruin towards the fleeing Persians. Later, I thought about how those were probably the very ones we were liberating, but at the time, I couldn't the get image of those two who had died out of my head. I kept imagining that the Persian I was aiming at was the one who had fired that shell.

"Sahsa!" Pavel slapped me on the back, and pushed me forward. "We have work to do!" After a moment of surprise after be roused from my thoughts of that artilleryman, I responded.

"Right, comrade! On to Teheran!" As I yelled it to him, he grinned from ear to ear, and then ran off, motioning us to follow him.

Hours later, an hour or so before sunirse, we had won. We, the Fourth Tank Army, had captured the enemy capitol, and beaten the capitolist pigs into retreating. We felt amazing, as we had acomplished so much in our first battle.


pavelwins8xd.jpg

4th Tanks Victory


"What did I tell you, comrades? You have nothing to fear from Persia's so called armies!" Pavel laughed, and we all did too, because at that moment that was all that we could think of. And at that moment, that is all that we cared about it. We had fought, and we had lived. It had been a good day.
 
And everyone knows how bourgeoisie those Persians are.
 
Chapter Five: Sightseeing Out the Back of a Truck

After our victory in Teheran, which came as no surprise to our officers, we had a break from advancing. We secured the city and brought in the rest of our divisions after the fight, and this took until the 21st of January, 1937. It was on this day also that Moscow recieved a peace offer from the Persians, one that would give the vast majority of Persia to us. However, it did not include either the capitol, or the other population centers. This offer was immediatly rejected by Stalin and the others, to no surprise. We at the front lines learned of this through Pavel, who spoke to us nightly of the proceedings in Russia that we were missing. When he told us of the desperate offer that the Persians had made, he laughed and joked about how cowardly they were, and that was just after one fight. We were inspired by this, and expected a cakewake the rest of the way. He went on to tell us more of the so-called peace treaty, and how it tried to rob the Persian people of the great revolution we were bringing them. He went on, speaking on and on about how the Persian imperialist dogs were obviously terrified of us, and that they were willing to sell out their own homeland just to make peace.


persiandesperation2xz.jpg

The Persian peace offer


And so, when he was done talking, we waited for another week. It began to get boring, even. We wondered when we would move on, and when everyone would get ready. That week must have been on of the hardest of my life, as I didn't knowwhat was going to happen at all. Were we going to just sit here? Advance again? Were the Persians going to attack us? All these questions, and for once, not even Pavel had the answer. He just told me, told us, to be happy that we weren't fighting right now, and to enjow the break. However, on Feburary 5th, we recieved orders to move out once again.


planofattack5ze.jpg

The orders recieved

This time, however, would be different. We were splitting up into the different corps, and advancing on different objectives. We all knew what this meant. The leaders far above us wanted this war over quickly, and wanted a win. And so we were racing, each corps attempting to get to its objective faster than the others. It was on, and the orders were placed. Pavel, myself, and the rest of 4th Tanks was going on the move again.

As we moved down the broken Persian roads, we passed many towns and villages along the roadside, and the reaction in many of them was the same. A few excited children here and there, many surprised townsfolk, and a partisan or two. But overall, once they got over the surprise, many of the villagers didn't seem to care that we were here, invading their lands. I couldn't believe it, and asked Pavel about it.

"They have no pride in their nation, Sasha. No reason to be proud, either. Look at this place, Sasha. No one pays attention to them."

"But we're inva-"

"Liberating them, Sasha. Freeing them from the chains of capitalism. Of course they have no idea what we are bringing them. If they did, they would be lining the streets to thank us." Pavel waved to a small child who was running behind the truck we were riding in, and the waved back. He then pointed this out, and the men in the truck laughed. So, this was liberating, we all thought. A nice big exciting fight, and then an easy roll through the rest of the country. We were all happy about this, especially Pavel. All during the fighting, he seemed so fearless, but I found him after it all was over, shaking. He had said he was just cold, but I didn't think so.

But that was forgotten on the morning of Feburary 16th, when we reached the sea. We had captured the province of Abadan, Pavel told us, and we had acomplished our objective first. We all cheered and celebrated for the entire day, singing and dancing and eating. Our spirits were very high, and Pavel attributed this victory to the glory of communism, which we all agreed with. We were young then, and happy to be part of the Soviet Army. We were the liberating force of the world, freeing the oppressed peoples everywhere. It was a good time to be us.


paveltakesobjective7yz.jpg

4th Tanks takes their assigned objective
 
Chapter Six: Change

Once we had taken our objective, and reported this to higher command, we were to hold the area until further notice. We figured that if we held certain parts of Persia, their government would give in and we would win the war. And so it happened on March 1st, when the other units crossed the mountains and hills of central Persia and captured more of the coastal provinces. The Persian imperialists were now on the run, Pavel told us, and we were able to declare our victory. He told us a new government would be set up, one of the people like ours was.


resultofwar4cw.jpg

Result of the Persian War


Now that Persia was communist, and the new government had taken over, we were free to return to the Soviet Union, home, after three months of fighting in the Persian deserts and hills. We were going home, and nothing in the past three months had sounded so good as that.

"So, have you heard, Sahsa?" Pavel approached me as we were finishing taking down our camp.

"Heard what, comrade? Are we not going back now?" I didn't think that was the case, as Pavel was still smiling. He was looking forward to going home as well. He had complained that Persia was a nice enough place, but the women just weren't up to Russian standards. We had a good laugh at that.

"No, not at all, comrade. We're going home, but to a new home. Now that Persia is in our alliance, we are no longer needed in Baku." This was very surprising. Where, then, were we to go? I really didn't want to be sent to the wastes of eastern Russia, to be faced off against the Chinese and Japanese.

"Where, then? And please don't tell me Siberia." Pavel laughed.

"Siberia!? Is that a place to send victorious tank units? Not at all, Sasha. We're going to Peterozavodsk, near Finland. It's still cold, but there is plently of civilization to keep us warm there, if you know what I mean!" Pavel punched me playfully, and gave me a knowing look. We were going back to Russia, and we were going to a new home. It was going to be a good time for us.


pavelsnewassignment7yk.jpg

Pavel's New Assignment Location


It was a very long journey to the Finnish border, but we kept busy. The unit had to keep moving, so we stopped very rarely, usually only when so many vehicles broke down that the wreckers couldn't handle the load. We drove for many days and many nights, conversing most of the time. We were in Russia, and victors from a war, so there was no danger to us. We relaxed for once, something we wouldn't be able to do for a very long time to come.

Pavel and I grew closer during this time really getting to know each other. We were close, but like I said, he was an officer, and I was a conscript, however exceptional I might be. I had just begun the third quarter of my two year conscription, and Pavel, well, he was in his third year in the military if you counted his acadamy time. He and I were close, but in many ways also different, differences that would put a damper on how close we could become.

If things weren't bad enough for our friendship, when we got to our new assignment, a surprise came for Pavel. He was promoted for his valor in Persia, but luckily, he stayed with the unit. It was a great time for him, and would only get better.

sovofficersand0s5xv.jpg

Pavel Recieving the Promotion
 
Could you use Political Mapmode? It is kinda hard to tell who's who. :confused:
 
Hehe. Double entendres.

Looks like Finland will be swept away.
 
Earth's Savior said:
Could you use Political Mapmode? It is kinda hard to tell who's who. :confused:

These are old screens. I'm really playing catch-up with the game.

Glad you're reading though. I appreciate the responce.
 
i wouldnt be going for finland just yet. I would wipe out the Baltic states first.