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Cold War Ahoyworld Gamenight Tuesday 06/June/2023 18:00 UTC


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November 24th 1983

The night air coiled around the open door as the heaters inside warmed the now deserted vehicle bay. Heating elements cast long shadows against the ammunition crates and spare parts.  A solitary figure walked past the shadows of the big cats laying dormant outside, their purring noises reserved only for when they hunted.


99 luftballons whistled into the still night air, the Oberleutnant in the doorway finishing the bars.  Taking one last drag of the cigarette he dropped the butt to the floor and crushed it underfoot.  The new figure walked over, dulled Oberfeldwebel ranks barely catching the distant orange glow.  The two nodded in acknowledgement and walked into the hangar to join the group of figures huddled over a hastily arranged table, the officer pausing only to squat and pick up the discarded butt and casually toss it into the make shift garbage bin seemingly out of reflex and absent mindedly.


Once settled around the group he looked around at the assembled staff.


“Gentlemen, welcome to world war three, except this time we didn’t start it.”  The opening garnering a few smiles from the assembled NCOs.


“Command is currently in a leadership contest with the Americans over who has operational authority in the region.  They want Bundeswehr authority as well it’s our territory and mostly our troops.  The Americans want overall command because… well…” he paused a second time to pull a new cigarette from the scratched metal case emerging from the inner breast pocket of his parka “they’re Americans.”


Where the first quip failed to garner a response the second drew smirks of approval.  The remains of 606 Panzergrenadier Battalion had had enough of the American logistics officers frantically trying to load all of their gear onto planes whilst telling Bundeswehr personnel how to do their jobs efficiently.


“Command issued a general order, leaving battalion commanders on the ground to treat the Americans with respect and courtesy but to act at their discretion in defence of the national territory until local command structures were finalised.”  He paused checking for any fuel cannisters, out of more habit than any caution. Flicking open the zippo lighter he’d traded a collection of Soviet patches for, he held the flame to the cigarette and took a long drag.


“That means we can’t take advantage of the situation,” he pointed to the map with a broken dipstick.  The hastily drawn line reflecting current NATO lines around the airfield.  The metal rod touching the town of Masendorf.


“The mechanised Regiment that was guarding our flank has taken a pounding and is understrength, the Russian armoured force that we defeated earlier this week is moving to reinforce their position but is being hampered by Luftwaffe sorties,” he nodded to the Luftwaffe pilots around the table, “thank you.”


“There is a supply depot in that town, protected by what remains of that mechanised regiment.  As the battalion still technically exists on paper, and as the remaining ranking officer, I believe it to be in my discretion to act in defence of national territory.  I plan to raid this and cause as much confusion as possible in the Soviet lines.  Just like we did when this all started.


We move fast hit them hard and withdraw back to the airfield under air and artillery cover.  We get in and out before they ever know it was just a raid and if we see any targets of opportunity, we deal with them too, that’s artillery pieces, communication towers, AA positions.”


The Oberleutnant paused.  Taking another drag on the cigarette he smiled and looked over the staff eyeing the map.  Little plastic soldiers and vehicles dotted the map representing Soviet positions.


“Things are a bit different now, we don’t have surprise, and that strike is well within the response of panzer forces stationed here,” the senior Feldwebel motioned to the small grey tanks on the map.  He was due to retire after the Able Archer exercise, now his haggard face was less due to age and the monotony of peacetime service, and more due to the constant contact they’d endured for the past month.  Right now, like many of the others, he was running on a mixture of black coffee, nicotine and hatred.


“Well,” the Oberleutnant looked past the group of assembled soldiers and into the cold dark outside.  Taking another drag on his cigarette the embers lit the wry smile on his face “we do have a reputation for armoured and combined arms warfare to maintain.  I believe the phrase is putting the leopards in amongst the pigeons…”


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Also sorry to The admins.. I done goofed last week by not putting forum post up.


and as always ladies and gents police that moostahce 

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