The Last War: Chapter 377.

[Bernard Woolley]

With thanks to Jotun and Matt W.

*

D+30

*

1135 hours GMT. Field H.Q Western TVD, west of Zossen, DDR.
General Andrei Kamov drummed the fingers of his right hand on his desk as he thought. His Chief of Staff and the few other member of his staff in the command trailer looked at each other, waiting for the uncomfortable silence to end. Finally, Kamov got up from his chair and walked over to a situation map pinned to a board. CINCWEST stared at it, his arms crossed as he considered his options.

“I would say that my counterpart is employing a strategy similar to Marshal Foch’s in late 1918.” He mused out loud.
“Comrade General?” His Chief of Staff wondered.

Kamov rolled his eyes and wondered what they had been teaching at the Frunze Military Academy since he had graduated. He turned away from the map.

“You’ll notice that NATO launched a major offensive in the Northern sector of Germany, forcing us to deploy reserves to counter it. By the time those reserves had reached the front NATO had shut down that offensive and taken up new defensive positions. They then launched a new major offensive in the Southern sector, catching us with our reserves in the wrong place. Again, by the time we had reacted, they had shut down their offensive. Moreover, while those two offensives were underway, NATO maintained a constant pressure all along the front, tying down local reserves.
“In the meantime, a whole new American corps has arrived in the theatre. That’s four large mechanised, or armoured divisions, a cavalry brigade and significant artillery and helicopter support. It’s very much the equivalent of our Byelorussian Group of Tank Armies. We don’t have confirmation, but it is believed that CINCCENT has released his reserves to operational commanders now that this corps has arrived.
“Our job now is to predict where the next major NATO offensive will take place and attack first. Now, Comrades, what are your thoughts?”

His staff looked at each other before responding.

“Comrade General, my assessment, based on the available intelligence is that the next major NATO offensive will be in the Central sector.” His intelligence chief said, breaking the silence. “Indications are that the new American corps will be placed behind the forces in that sector. Which means that three out of the four American corps will be in the same sector. The Americans will then be able to create a breakthrough formation of army group size. It would have a formidable number of armoured vehicles, artillery and attack helicopters.”
“It would certainly fit with the dictum of concentration of forces, Comrade Colonel.” Kamov replied. “If the three corps were combined into a single force it would have something like ten of their divisions, which are roughly equivalent to twenty of ours. If a juggernaut like that was allowed to get moving, it would be a great challenge to stop it. Do the Americans have the logistics to support such a large force?”

Kamov’s own logistics chief chuckled. CINCWEST gave him a quizzical look.

“Comrade General, the Americans have the logistical capability to ship large quantities of both of their popular cola drinks and their most popular chocolates across the Atlantic to supply their troops. We know that American troops are sending requests home for luxury items, which are reaching the front within 48 hours. So, to answer your question, yes, the Americans have the logistics available to support a force three corps strong.”

CINCWEST nodded thoughtfully.

“Very well, Comrades, unless there are any other thoughts, and unless any other intelligence comes in, we will proceed on the basis that the likelihood that the next major NATO offensive will come in the Central sector. My intention will be to absorb the attack before using our reserves to cut-off their spearhead and destroy it. For that we will need the Byelorussian Group of Tank Armies. When will it be ready for operations?”

His question was followed by pointed clearing of throats and shuffling of feet. Finally, the Chief of Staff answered.

“5th Guards Tank Army will be operational in forty-eight hours with three of its divisions. 7th Guards Tank Army will be able to put three divisions in the field at the same time. The 28th Combined Arms Army is, of course, already committed to operations.”
“Five divisions? Five divisions!” Kamov exploded. “That’s half of what those two armies should be able to put in the field. What the hell has happened?”
“NATO air attacks and sabotage, Comrade General.” His Chief of Staff responded. “The Polish railway system is only now beginning to recover; equipment and troops are spread all over the place. Not to mention that it is estimated that at least forty percent of both armies’ equipment was destroyed be enemy attack. We estimate that only six out of ten of the divisions can be made operational.”

Kamov resisted to grab the man’s head and twist it off his neck. For whatever reason his staff, probably at the prompting of the Chief of Staff, had concealed the true scale of the disaster. Perhaps hoping that they could sort it out before it became critical. He took a deep breath.

“Well, we have to work with what we have. Find me at least two additional divisions from our other reserves and attach them to the 7th Guards Tank Army. Also, I want to know why partisans are still operating in our rear areas. The Poles and Czechs should have eliminated them by now. If we need to take additional action to eliminate them, we will do it. Get it done.”

1241 hours GMT. Regierungsbunker, Ahr Valley, FRG.
In the Cabinet room of the Regierungsbunker, the main members of the Joint Committee sat, hashing out financial and economic post-war plans. They had been at it for several hours and pinpointed several strategies for post-war reconstruction and the financing thereof.

“So, that is that I guess.” The Finance Minister, Wolfgang Schäuble of the CDU, spoke to the other members. “If we play our cards right, we might actually manage to rebuild our country without having it bought from under our arses. It is not just the Chinese who are going to try and get leverage, and at least they are largely out of the picture, but also the USA, Britain, India and half of South America plus the Gulf States and East Asia.”

Gerhard Schröder merely nodded. He had studied law by way of so-called Second Chance Education and had a generally good grasp of the legal side of things. He felt the spark of a new idea…he looked up and said calmly but firmly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be silent for a minute or two…I think I have an idea….”

The others fell silent and looked at him, expectantly. Schröder visibly was thinking hard, his eyes displaying a thousand-yard stare and his face set into hard angles.

“Eureka!” He suddenly shouted and sat up straight, startling the other members of the Joint Committee. “All the talk of mitigating financial leverage against the Federal Republic made me think about the post-war order in Europe. Finance.”

He looked at Wolfgang Schäuble.

“I want your department to draw up a special fund law regulating the provision of funds to Eastern European countries for after the war. If things are going as we hope they’ll do, the USSR is going to lose their chokehold on its vassal states and may even break up sooner rather than later.
“When I was in the USA, I was going down the rabbit hole of alternate history for quite some time, and a particularly good one dealt with how a different 1989 might have led to the end of the Warsaw Pact AND the USSR and even to a reunification of the two Germanies. It was thoroughly well researched and made some good points.
“Anyway. The special fund law is going to offer interest-free loans to whatever country in Eastern Europe free of the Bear might need a helping hand financially and economically. Add a provision for hiring labour to assist reconstruction in our country, offering good pay and acceptable lodging. We might also offer reconstruction work to Warsaw Pact POWs, reimbursing them for their efforts.”

He looked into a gaggle of mostly astonished faces.

“What?” He asked rhetorically. “This is certainly better than demanding reparations, especially since there are still claims concerning what we did in World War Two. We extend a hand and effectively generate goodwill and the foundation of rapprochement.
“Okay. Opinions, anybody?”

The room practically exploded into discussion. Schröder smiled. He still had it…

1355 hours GMT. Tyysteri, southern Finland.
The Finnish Army engineers had blown the bridge as soon as the first Soviet T-72s had appeared. The structure exploding the face of a Soviet reconnaissance group who had dismounted from their BRM and BDRM to examine it. The T-72s, followed by BMP-2s cautiously approached the Mustijoki River, indenting to see if they could ford it. The commander of their vanguard checked the map of the village and surrounding area and saw that the Mustijoki was marked as being fordable here without any special preparations.

“Forwards!” He ordered.

*

“Target command tank! Load hard core!” Luutnantti Ilari ‘Timo’ Mäkinen as he spotted the T-72B1K.
“Identified!” His gunner replied.

As usual it felt like an age before the autoloader loaded the ‘fin’ round into the breach of his T-72FM2’s gun. It was not the first time he wished for a human loader with strong arms.

“Loaded.” The gunner reported.
“Fire!”

The ‘fin’ round the Finnish tank was not the same as those used by its Soviet sisters. It had been developed by Finland and was superior to the round used by Soviet tanks armed with the same 125mm gun. When combined with superior Fire Control systems, the Finnish T-72 was a better tank than the Soviet T-80 and T-90, never mind the T-72. The round struck the Soviet tank on the left side of the face of its turret, the Tungsten tipped penetrator burrowing its way through the armour. The T-72B1K exploded a second later, its turret shooting off into the air. The other two tanks in Mäkinen’s platoon had also opened fire, with similar results.

The other Soviet armoured vehicles from the reconnaissance group and vanguard attempted to manoeuvre out of the killing zone. A few throwing shots back at the Finnish defenders. However, they found themselves running into obstacles and minefields. Which trapped them under the Finnish guns and exposed to ATGW fire. The surviving vehicles retreated. They had located the Finnish defenders. At a price.

Mäkinen popped his hatch and climbed up onto his seat. He leaned against the NSV machine-gun mount for a moment. Appreciating the cool air. Spotting a few Soviet troops on foot attempting to retreat unseen. He cocked the NSV and started to fire short bursts towards them. Other tanks, CV90s and dismounted infantry quickly joined in. None of these Soviet soldiers would make it to safety.

1312 hours GMT. Outside Bredenbeck, Schleswig-Holstein.
The American 9th Infantry Division (Mechanised) had something to prove. During its last attempt to cross the Kiel Canal, its 1st Brigade had been roughly handled. Being lucky to find a way back across the canal before it was cut off. The division had crossed the canal further to the west, using bridges constructed for the advance on Hamburg. Concentrating in the area around Bredenbeck and Bovernau.

As part of the continued efforts to convince the Soviets that NATO planned to mount a major attack to liberate Kiel, the 9th Infantry Division would mount an operation towards the city. West German and Danish troops on the northern bank of the canal would mount an attack towards the Kiel district of Holtenau. [1] The strongest brigade of the division, the 2nd Pennsylvanian Infantry Brigade (Mechanized) would lead the attack, pushing along an axis roughly defined by Bundesautobahn 210. The division’s orders were to push as far east as it could, but not to attempt to enter the city itself.

*

Sergeant First Class Hawke dropped down into the turret of his M3A3 Bradley CFV. Slamming the hatch shut behind him. His platoon commander had returned, having obtained a new Bradley, had returned. Meaning that Hawke no longer had to command the platoon. Something he was secretly relieved about.

“Right, Niall, let’s get moving.” He ordered his driver.
“Got it, Sergeant.”

The cavalry troop moved forward cautiously in bounds, stationary vehicles covering those moving. A Troop ran into the first Soviet troops, a reconnaissance group from 1st Guards Motor-Rifle Division. The Soviet troop, a mix of BDRM and BRM was understrength and caught by surprise. The American cavalrymen reduced it to a collection of burning scrap in a few minutes of one-sided combat, before resuming their advance.

*

The National Guardsmen from Pennsylvania cut a swath through the 1st Guards Motor-Rifle Division. The regulars from 1st Brigade following up, getting their revenge on the Soviet division, by completing its defeat, pushing it back into Kiel. The commander of the 9th Guards Army ordered the 3rd Guards Motor-Rifle Division and 40th Guards Tank Division to mount a counterattack. Unfortunately for these divisions, the Americans had halted and taken up defensive positions. Instead of the encounter battle the Soviets had been hoping for, they found themselves attacking well dug in American armoured vehicles. While being assailed from their flanks by the 9th Infantry Division’s 3rd Brigade. The remainder of the 9th Guards Army was smashed to pieces in a few hours of fierce fighting. Its commander ordered the survivors to retreat into Kiel and prepare for an assault.

Unexpectedly, the American division advanced no further east than Melsdorf, before halting again and digging in. The divisional commander made sure that his right flank was well protected. Knowing that the two motor-rifle divisions of the 14th Army were to his south. However, rather than mount an attack against the 9th Infantry Division, both of its divisions, the 26th Guards Motor Rifle and 88th Motor Rifle Divisions took up position to the south of Kiel. The commander of the 14th Army having been ordered to prevent NATO from mounting a drive to the Baltic, which would cut off Soviet forces in Kiel. COMLANDJUT was more than happy with developments, happy to leave both the remains of the 9th Guards Army and the 14th Army where they were.

*

The West-German – Danish task force had found its advance relatively easy. Very few Soviet troops had actually crossed the canal into Holtenau, and it did not take very much pressure to induce those who had to pull back into the rest of the city. Rather unexpectedly, the operation ended up liberating a small portion of Kiel.

1600 Hours GMT. Defense Intelligence Agency, the Pentagon.
In a nondescript corridor in the C Ring at the Pentagon, a small branch of the Defense Intelligence Agency maintained its offices. They were close to the Defense Prisoner of War-Missing in Action Office, and one might assume they were completely different. That assumption would be wrong, for the people-both military and civilian-directly supported DPMO's activities, and not only relayed intelligence to DPMO to use in tracking America's POWs and locating MIAs, but they were also a conduit of information to the families, and those who worked in the office felt they were giving the greatest service one could offer: information to the families of POWs and MIAs about their loved ones.

For Commander Dan Burroughs, it was personal in a way. Though he didn't know anyone in either status, he had served a tour as an Air Intelligence Officer in VF-103 back in 1991 and knew full well that capture could happen to anyone. One of the squadron's F-14s had gone down in Iraq in DESERT STORM, with the pilot rescued and the RIO a POW for 43 days. Now, working with DPMO, he was taking on a job like another intelligence officer, in another war.

Though they were not related, he knew the story of Commander Bob Burroughs, who had done a similar service for the Navy's POW-MIA families in Southeast Asia. He had arranged for briefings with wives and parents, providing as much information as possible to them, while at the same time working to establish covert communications with POWs (Jim Stockdale being a notable success story, managing to send covert messages with his letters from Hanoi, and there were others as well). They had also managed, once the North Vietnamese allowed the prisoners to send and receive mail regularly, to send covert messages mixed in with their packages. And now, Dan Burroughs was prepared to do the same thing in this war.

Now, Burroughs was sifting through several intelligence reports on POW camp locations. The Soviets had apparently set aside several locations for POW camps, with one outside Moscow for senior officers of Colonel and above, while another one, more likely a holding/interrogation facility, was south of Murmansk for prisoners taken in Norway and adjacent waters. That one was close to the north-south rail line from Murmansk, it was noted. Then there was one in Byelorussia for the female POWs, and two more in Ukraine for the male prisoners. As for North Korea, there were several possible camps for POWs, most likely added on to the existing labor camps for the North's own dissidents. While Iraq's POWs were likely in Al-Rashid Military Prison, though he did have a report from CENTCOM, suggesting that some of them had been moved to Al-Taji, north of Baghdad. One thing all three countries had in common was that there was no shortage of prisons to hold POWs, he noted.

A Petty Officer who worked for him alongside his civilian secretary came in. “Sir?”

“Yes, Cole?” Burroughs asked.
“Sir, a father of a POW in Iraq is waiting at the Visitor Entrance. He says he has a letter from his daughter and wants to show it to you personally. Should I-”?
“Go to the entrance and get him through Security, visitor pass, and you'll be his escort.” Burroughs said. “And expedite.”

The Petty Officer nodded.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

About twenty minutes later, the PO returned, with a fellow wearing a uniform that signaled ‘airline captain.’ But he had a military bearing as well.

“Good morning, Mr...”
“Byron Porter.” the man replied. “I'm a Captain for FedEx. Deadheaded here from Newark Liberty, and I have to be getting back in a few hours.”
“CRAF?” Burroughs asked, and Porter nodded. “Coffee?”
“No thanks.” Porter said. “I'm Susie Porter-Flinn's father.”

He handed over an envelope with a Baghdad postmark and several stamps with Saddam's picture on them.

“Before you ask, I've read it, and so has my wife.”

Burroughs took the envelope and removed the letter. A small card came with it, and that card had instructions for families to send return mail. He examined that first.

“Okay, it's what you'd expect: “Letters are restricted to one page monthly. All correspondence is subject to review before delivery. All mail must be self-addressed and stamped.”

Then he turned his attention to the letter itself.

“Anything jump out at you when you read it?” He asked Porter.

Porter nodded.

“Susie said that she has 'a lot of time to myself'.” He looked at the Intel Officer. “That sounds like she's in solitary.”
“Sounds like it to me.” Burroughs agreed. “You've got that military look on you.”
“Twelve years in the Air Force,” Porter said. “Flew C-141s in DESERT SHIELD/STORM.”

Burroughs nodded approval.

“And you've been through SERE.” He said, seeing Porter nod.

The intel read more of the letter.

“Says here she's 'lost some weight due to the new diet, but I hope to get it back.'”
“Underfed and undernourished.” Porter nodded. “If that's happening to her, it's the same for the others.”
“Yeah.” Burroughs said. “She goes on to say she's had a couple of 'exercise sessions' and 'I managed to get back on my feet, but it was tough.”

Porter winced, but he knew full well what his daughter had said.

“She's been tortured at least twice. First after she was shot down, then probably again after that strike on Baghdad.”

Burroughs nodded again, this time grimly.

“Fancy way to say that, but one the censors won't notice,” he said. “What's this? 'Say hi to Dave.' That's her husband, right?”
“Yeah,” Porter nodded. “He's on one of the ships in the carrier group. My guess is that she doesn't want the Iraqis to know he's a Naval Officer. It's probably why she wrote to us instead of him.”

Good girl, Burroughs thought. Changing the subject, he asked:

“When do you have to be flying back?”
“I need to be at Dulles in three hours. Deadheading back to Newark Liberty, then it's back on a CRAF run.”

Nodding, Burroughs stood up.

“I'll scan this right now, and that card, too. Some extra eyes besides mine are going to take a long look at this. See if there's anything the both of us missed. And for sure, we'll find a way to get a message to her and the others. That you can take to the bank.”

After scanning the material, he gave the letter and card back to Porter, along with his own card.

“Call or email me if you have any questions, and for sure, we'll do whatever we can to help Susie and the others. Let me know when you're writing a reply, then we'll send her that message. One the Iraqis won't detect.”

Porter nodded.

“Thanks, Commander.” Both shook hands. “And you'll let me know what you find?”
“That's another thing you can count on. Some people might squawk about that, but you families have a right to know. Not just the good, but the bad and the ugly.”
“Thanks again.”

After Porter left, Burroughs checked his e-mail and found several from ONI offices in Washington and in California. Several families of POWs in Iraq had also received letters from their loved ones. They relayed via e-mail the letters for Burroughs and his team to examine. Then he had a meeting with his Army, Air Force, and Marine counterparts and found out others held in Baghdad had done the same. Now the problem was to find a way to get messages through to the POWs, though the group agreed on one message they would send: “Hang tough. You're going to be there for a while. Be strong and keep the faith.”

1803 hours GMT. Kostomuksha, Karelian ASSR.
The Sergeant of Militsiya yawned, put his feet up on his desk and promptly dozed off. Despite being close to the Finnish border, the town of Kostomuksha was a quiet place. A detachment of KGB Border Guards stationed near the border had kept it safe. So, the local Militsiya felt that they did not have to worry about much, other than the usual local crimes. Which had reduced noticeably with the call-up of so many of the town’s young men.

“Wake up you lazy b*stard!” A voice yelled, accompanied by someone violently sweeping the Sergeant’s feel off his desk.

Surprised, he did not notice the unusual accent and tried to stand up, spluttering an apology. A hand shoved him hard, knocking the Sergeant of Militsiya to the floor. He tried to rise, but a boot on his chest kept him down.

“Stay down there where you belong!” The voice said contemptuously.

To his horror the Sergeant of Militsiya realised that the voice addressing him belonged to a soldier of the Finnish Army. Three other grinning Finns were standing in the office.

“Where’s your gun?” The first soldier asked.
“In the armoury…we don’t carry them unless we’re out on patrol.”
“Come on, show us.” The soldier said, dragging the Sergeant to his feet.

With the occasional prod from a rifle barrel, the Sergeant of Militsiya led them to the armoury. He could not help but wonder where the rest of his men were.

“Your men are in the cells.” The Finnish soldier said, as if he had had read the Sergeant’s mind. “Keys.”

The Sergeant looked blankly at him.

“The keys to the armoury, you idiot. You’re the senior officer on duty.” He turned to one of the other soldiers and spoke in Finnish.

The other soldier nodded, handed his rifle to the man next to him. He roughly searched the Sergeant, finding a set of keys. He handed them to the first Finn.

“Thank you. You can go get some more sleep now.” He said, before indicating that the Sergeant of Militsiya should be taken away.

The senior Finn unlocked the armoury and stepped inside. The armoury contained a number of PM pistols, four AKM rifles, some helmets, riot shields, CS gas grenades and two KS-23 shotguns.

“Always wanted one of these.” The senior Finn remarked, picking up a KS-23.

He took some ammunition from it before closing the armoury door. He locked the door and deliberately snapped the key off in the lock.

*

The head of the Kostomuksha district and the local party chief were also having a bad evening. Both men had been eating their evening meals when unexpected knocks at the doors of their houses had announced the arrival of the Finnish Army. It had been politely, but firmly suggested that they accompany the soldiers to the party chief’s office. Where they found a Finnish Majuri sitting behind the desk.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” He said. “I am sorry that my men interrupted you at your meals, but we can’t have you running around free while we are here.”
“What…what is the meaning of this?” The party chief spluttered.
“You seem to have laboured under the delusion that you could invade our country with no consequences.” The Majuri replied. “Well, we are here to demonstrate your error.”
“The Border Guards and the army will be here soon!” The district head said defiantly.

The Majuri chuckled.

“Your Border Guards are well on their way to new accommodation in Finland. Your army is not coming. Now, I’m afraid I have to order that you be locked up in the cells of your Militsiya station. My apologies, we Finns do not like to detain people without charge.”

As the two men were led away, their escort stopped just long enough to allow them to watch the Hammer and Sickle being lowered from the flagpole outside the building. The Finnish Siniristilippu was run up the flagpole as a replacement. Finnish soldiers saluted the flag and took photographs.

*

With all potential resistance neutralised, the Finnish soldiers, who were drawn from the Kajanaland Jäger Brigade went about their business. While civilian infrastructure was largely left alone, anything related to the government, or Communist Party was destroyed. Files from the local KGB office were removed before the building was set on fire.
Before departing, the Finns lowered their flag. There was no way they would leave it for the Soviets to desecrate. Though they did take the Hammer and Sickle with them, storing both flags safely aboard one of the Sisu Nasu that had brought them to Kostomuksha.

The Finnish Jäger left the town as quietly as they had arrived. They might have been a picked company, but they were still ordinary soldiers and not special forces. Yet, they had achieved something that any special forces unit would be envious of.

***

[1] The northern force was formed of the following:

Heimatschutzbrigade 61 (Home Defence Brigade 61)
- Jägerbataillon 611: Fuchs
- Jägerbataillon 612: Fuchs
- Panzerbataillon 613: Leopard 2A4
- Panzerartilleriebataillon 615: FH-70
- Pionierkompanie 610
71st Home Defence Regiment (+)
- Staff Company (Reserve), 71st Home Defence Regiment:
- 711th Infantry Battalion (Reserve)
- 712th Infantry Battalion (Reserve)
- 713th Infantry Battalion (Reserve)
- 710th Mortar Company (Reserve) (18x 120mm mortars)
- 710th Supply Company (Reserve)
- 3rd Battalion, Slesvigske Fodregiment: M113, M113A2 Mk I DK, Centurion Mk.5/2DK

[Bernard Woolley]

Accompanying Pictures

[James1978]

Good chapter!
Enjoyed the variety.

[Bernard Woolley]

Thanks very much!

[Lordroel]

Good chapter, now lets have Finland recapture its territory they lost in 1944, ore is that a bit to much.

[Bernard Woolley]

That would be a bit much. Especially since the USSR made sure that the Finnish population from those territories were removed and replaced with enthic Russians.

[jemhouston]

I'm hoping NATO will pull another fast one on the Warsaw Pact.

Rather like the German post war plans, sort of a local Marshall Plan.

None of the POW camps are good targets for a rescue operation, if I understand the locations correctly.

[Bernard Woolley]

CINCWEST and his staff do seem to be looking in the wrong direction. As an aside, Marshal Foch’s strategy was very successful. It wore the Germans down until it was time for tout le monde a la bataille!

[Eaglenine2]

Bite and Hold

[Bernard Woolley]

Was certainly the first part of that strategy.

[Matt Wiser]

Good chapter, and well worth the wait. BZ, my friend, and always glad to be of service. And so to business:

CINC-WEST might want to take a look at the 1st Western Front sector (he's focused now it seems on 2nd Western Front) also.

Someone's thinking ahead about the postwar world, and we're barely a month into the Marathon.

Finns giving the Soviets another lesson in that they should've stayed home, and that borders can be crossed in both directions...

NOW we can probably assume that 9th GA's commanding general is not long for this world...If he's not KIA, he will be liquidated.

One thing that all three countries in question have in common is that they will consider American and Western POWs to be bargaining chips. Anyone held at that one south of Murmansk is likely on a long train trip to Beylorussia or the Ukraine once the initial processing and interrogation is finished and a train organized to ship them south.

Good work again, and get started on 378!

[Fusilier]

Nice shout out to "The Battle of The Bulge" with the remark about the Americans shipping Coke and Pepsi - it was chocolate cake in the film!
Well done, as ever to all involved in - wow! - Chapter 377

[Jotun]

Bit late to the party...

I had Gazprom-Gerd have his inspiration based on the @ Special Defence Fund the Human Paperclip (aka The Scholzomaton) presented after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Since governmants apparently can create money from little more than hot air and wishful thinking, I applied this to the world of TLW. And yes, Gerd is already thinking about the post-war world. Better to start early than to be caught wrong-footed and scrambling to catch up.

Anyway.

General Kamov is playing with fire. If he really wants to piss off the Poles and Czechs/Slovaks even more than they already are, he might be facing even more guerrilla activity which might spread to the Baltics, Hungary, and other satellites of the USSR.
There are decades off resentment and enmity to be worked off....

The Finns are being Finns and pulling off professional military actions that are going to make everybody sit up and take notice. The original Jäger troops were trained not ten kilometers from where I am sitting right now, by the way (I am at work in Itzehoe).

The US troops in Melsdorf should be seeing an ugly high rise commonly called "Weißer Riese" in Mettenhof. You can bet that there are going to be Red Army observers sittung on that ugly thing. Mettenhof is a 1970s vintage housing project that is as bad as it sounds. Ugly-ass cheap apartment blocks, and socially disadvantaged tenants.

Thanks, Matt and Jan, for the new chapter, and as always it was an honor to be contributing.

[jemhouston]

Jotun,

Let me guess, the local police call Weißer Riese area Noah's Ark, they only go there in multiple pairs.

[Jotun]

Jotun,

Let me guess, the local police call Weißer Riese area Noah's Ark, they only go there in multiple pairs.

It is not quite that bad, but rats (the four legged kind) have made it to the top floor, the stairwells are filthy and there are druggies and drunks about. Mettenhof in its entirety has an extremely bad reputation in Kiel. Not as bad as Gaarden (Little Istanbul) but close.

[jemhouston]

Jotun,

Let me guess, the local police call Weißer Riese area Noah's Ark, they only go there in multiple pairs.

It is not quite that bad, but rats (the four legged kind) have made it to the top floor, the stairwells are filthy and there are druggies and drunks about. Mettenhof in its entirety has an extremely bad reputation in Kiel. Not as bad as Gaarden (Little Istanbul) but close.

That seems to be a common issue with high rise public housing. I'm not quite interested enough to research it.

[Bernard Woolley]

Some were built cheap, others were simply neglected, or indeed both. Also, lots of them seem to have been used as dumping grounds for ‘undesirables’, or people local authorities didn’t care about. Grenfell showed what happened when a building of that sort was not properly looked after got fitted with flammable cladding and was largely ignored by the local council.