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Description

December 20, 1944
Forest Northwest of Saint-Mihiel

Darathee felt like she was chilled to her very bone, how cold this winter has been; for about a week now, the sky remained grey and overcast with no sign of any sort of cloudbreak. There was no sunlight to even give a small glimmer of brightness in this freezing, snowy winter; even with all of her protective clothing on, she still felt cold. The only relief available was inside an intact building with a fire going but the former was rare with all the fighting going on in the area and even when one was found, her Gruppe was forced to keep marching forward. Never enough space for everyone, what with how small these French farmhouses are and the higher-ups felt that it would take longer to wake soldiers slumbering in a warm, comfy house up than those sleeping in a tent out in the snow.

So it went, it had only been just yesterday when her Zug (and the Division as a whole) was positioned on the northern outskirts of Nancy, ready to ambush any enemy troops crossing the Mosel as other divisions steadily fought for the city’s control. Now the German 4th Army, along with the rest of Army Group C, was steadily advancing west toward Chalons and from there (at least rumor had it), they would either head north to Rheims and Saint-Quentin, to meet up with the British and allies coming down from Belgium, or turn southeast in order to flank Paris much as their predecessors had done in the final months of the Erster Weltkrieg.

The dragoness wrinkled her nose, remembering the stories she heard of that war; she had aunts and uncles who crossed the Mosel, Marne, and Seine, battling those damn stubborn French. Her father too had experiences in France but he rarely talked about it, his behavior towards his family throughout her life was her only clue as to how much the war had affected him. The kind of experience that would turn a bright-eyed, optimistic young lad into a violent, empty shell lashing out at the world and drowning his sorrows in alcohol seemed almost unthinkable to Darathee when she was younger, with the tales her aunts and uncles had of the Great War being her only clue. Now, it was clear what her father went through, seeing such death and destruction wrought on an enormous scale, watching saurians and fellow dragons getting ripped and blown to pieces, seeing people she grew accustomed to interacting with bleeding out and dying, whole towns and cities laid waste, the horrific stresses placed on individuals caught in the midst of it all. A little piece of her hated that she felt sympathy for her father, after all he had put her through but she knew, he would have been a radically-different person were it not for the war.

Her train of thoughts, amidst automaton-like steps through the snow, was interrupted by a simple command: “Halt!”

Immediately, she paused and knelt close to the ground, her focus now on the foggy treeline right in front of her; once in a while, turned her head right or left to her Zugmates but for the most part, she was looking directly ahead.

The sar at the front of their group was Vizefeldwebel von Hoger and he was silently gesturing toward the trees ahead of them. He had apparently caught sight of a silhouette that looked distinctly like a bunker, hidden amidst the snow banks although he wasn’t entirely sure if his assumption was correct. Through more gestures, he announced that the Gruppe would have two groups split off to try to sneak up to where he thought he spied the bunker. He would lead one that would get to the alleged bunker’s left flank and Gefrieter Schwegler would lead the other, heading right while Feldwebel Steinwand, as Gruppe leader, would stay behind. Von Hoger would take Bellion and Thum with him while Schwegler had von Kungtaimer and Klett accompany him and the others (Pfefferle and Amazou) would remain with Steinwand.

Darathee followed Schwegler as he crept deeper into the woods, always ensuring that the supposed bunker was to his left; after countless hours of walking, the dragoness was exhausted and the flamethrower she carried didn’t help matters. She had the thing positioned between her wings and when she used it, she had to keep them open so they wouldn’t touch the tanks that housed the liquids. It had been her new weapon of choice, abandoning her rifle after Barti was grievously-wounded, giving in to her despair and hatred as she set enemy soldiers aflame. It had been well over a year since that terrible February day and in recent months, her anger had been cooled somewhat by the commander of a different Zug whom she had first met in Strassburg, one Herodozmus Kragath.

The pain still lingered though and she still felt a righteous fury as she burned any Communard foolish enough to stand in her way; she would raze Paris to the ground if it meant finally accepting Bartellkt’s passing and move on. Although she hadn’t heard anything concrete on whether he was truly dead even after almost two years. Still, even if he was actually alive, he would no doubt be in terrible shape and a part of her still felt justified in setting the enemy on fire.

Schwegler paused as they neared the bottom of a knoll, scanning his surroundings; all Darathee could hear was distant gunfire and explosions, from the rest of the Kompanie assaulting Savonnieres-en-Woevre some distance to the west. After what seemed like an eternity, the NCO resumed his movement and both the dragoness and Klett followed suit. Schwegler was a veteran member of the Kompanie, having been there apparently since the start of the war; he was one of the few members left who had been in the pre-war army, having enlisted in late 1938. He had always been quiet, being a sar of action and not words and his combat record certainly showed it; having been one to lead the charge, automatic rifle firing away, he was promoted over a year ago now for his leadership and dedication towards accomplishing the mission.

At the top of the knoll, they caught sight of five French soldiers standing about two dozen yards away, chatting with each other. From the shapes of their snouts and their sheer size, Darathee could tell these were saurians from Algeria; colonial troops who were some of the more fearsome and diehard soldiers in the Communard army. Schwegler took position at the top of the knoll, raised his rifle, and opened fire with a controlled burst, dropping one of the Frenchsars. As the others were reacting, Klett followed suit with his Mauser, downing another and forcing the Algerians to drop to the ground. Darathee diligently started moving around the now-prone French as Schwegler fired another burst, flanking the enemy position in the hopes of either burning them or forcing them to surrender.

Sure enough, the Algerians spotted her and one of the remaining three sars cried out, “Don’t shoot! We’ve had enough, we give up!”

Darathee approached them as they slowly stood up with their hands in the air, two of them towering over her. Schwegler ordered the Algerians against several trees and then made them sit down before tying their wrists together with pieces of cloth he conveniently had. She assumed he had those on hand for situations like this, when he had prisoners to detain but didn’t have the sarpower to guard them and needed to move on to a nearby objective. Once he was done, he asked the prisoners about a possible bunker in the area; the one who declared the surrender responded: “Yes, we were ordered to set one up in this forest a few days ago, our regimental commander was worried about the German division approaching Saint-Mihiel.”

“Then where is it?” Schwelger asked.

The Algerian stated in response, “It is to the northwest of here, in that direction.”

With a single acknowledging nod, the Megalosaurus carried off in the direction the prisoner pointed to and both Klett and Darathee followed after him. They walked on for a bit more when they suddenly heard nearby gunfire, obviously it was the other groups.

Klett muttered, “Either von Hogel’s group has contact with the enemy or that bunker is firing on Frau Steinwand.”

“Come on,” was Schwegler’s response as he hurried through the snow, in the direction of the gunfire.

The three of them sprinted along before they came upon a large clearing in the forest where a bunker made out of logs and sandbags sat on top of a hill. There was a Hotchkiss machine gun inside firing down at the opposite end of the clearing while rifle fire emanated from the other side.

“We have to help them!” Darathee cried.

“Quick, while they’re distracted!” Schwegler began leading the others closer to the bunker, hoping to take the French within by surprise. Taking position, the two riflesars opened fire whilst Darathee approached the porthole and let loose with her flamethrower. The whole bunker was soon an inferno as screams were heard inside, several French running out back into the snow and Klett quickly put them out of their misery with his bolt-action.

When the fire was dying down, Darathee sat beside the bunker’s smoldering ruin as two surviving Frenchsars were taken prisoner, one of whom being an officer. She caught sight of von Hogel’s group emerging from the other side of the trees, heading towards their position. Schwegler met with him and they had a quick conversation explaining what each patrol saw and did; apparently, Steinwand’s group attracted the attention of the French machine gunner and von Hogel had moved his group to suppress the bunker. They were exchanging fire with soldiers within the bunker when Schwegler’s group arrived. Once everything was done, they left the bunker, with Schwegler leading von Hogel to where he had left the prisoners.

Once they were retrieved, von Hogel took point and returned to Steinwand, who reported to her what his group and Schwegler’s did and saw. She then told them that Savonnieres-en-Woevre had been captured while they were flanking the bunker and that Zug Leader Leutnant Pasch had ordered them to return to report to him and Zug Commander Oberleutnant von Aichhalden as soon as they could.

Everyone quickly started marching along, the prisoners of the center of the formation, kept under watchful guard, as they hurried downhill into the valley below. The patrol was almost textbook, no one had been wounded and they accounted for eight French dead and five captured. Everyone expected to take a rest while awaiting their next assignment; the war raged on as Saint-Mihiel was, as far they knew, still in enemy hands. Darathee hoped that, once they got there, she would be given somewhere warm in that little farming village; even if she had to sleep on the floor and forced to crowd in with her Zugmates, it would beat sleeping in a cold tent.

Inspired by a photograph of German Volksgrenadiers in the Ardennes, this graphite drawing depicts Thaddeus Schwegler, Hans Klett, and Darathee von Kungtaimer in the forests of Nancy in the winter of 1944; by this point, the German army had broken out of Metz and Strassburg and was now on the offensive. The Communards were on the run, the massive offensive up the Meuse River pulled troops from other fronts in the hopes of defeating the Entente forces in the Low Countries, enabling the Americans to push on "Fortress Brest" while the Allied troops in southern France and northern Iberia were gaining extensive ground. Their one reprieve was the massive storms that rolled across Western Europe, grounding Allied aircraft and enabling ComIntern forces free reign without the fear of bombing and interdiction. While the other Allies were having great trouble with the weather and complete absence of aerial support, the Germans rolled onward, stomping on any Red resistance in their path; the Imperial war machine was in full force and many Germans were relieved to be on French soil after spending years fighting a defensive war in the Fatherland.

Description

December 20, 1944
Forest Northwest of Saint-Mihiel

Darathee felt like she was chilled to her very bone, how cold this winter has been; for about a week now, the sky remained grey and overcast with no sign of any sort of cloudbreak. There was no sunlight to even give a small glimmer of brightness in this freezing, snowy winter; even with all of her protective clothing on, she still felt cold. The only relief available was inside an intact building with a fire going but the former was rare with all the fighting going on in the area and even when one was found, her Gruppe was forced to keep marching forward. Never enough space for everyone, what with how small these French farmhouses are and the higher-ups felt that it would take longer to wake soldiers slumbering in a warm, comfy house up than those sleeping in a tent out in the snow.

So it went, it had only been just yesterday when her Zug (and the Division as a whole) was positioned on the northern outskirts of Nancy, ready to ambush any enemy troops crossing the Mosel as other divisions steadily fought for the city’s control. Now the German 4th Army, along with the rest of Army Group C, was steadily advancing west toward Chalons and from there (at least rumor had it), they would either head north to Rheims and Saint-Quentin, to meet up with the British and allies coming down from Belgium, or turn southeast in order to flank Paris much as their predecessors had done in the final months of the Erster Weltkrieg.

The dragoness wrinkled her nose, remembering the stories she heard of that war; she had aunts and uncles who crossed the Mosel, Marne, and Seine, battling those damn stubborn French. Her father too had experiences in France but he rarely talked about it, his behavior towards his family throughout her life was her only clue as to how much the war had affected him. The kind of experience that would turn a bright-eyed, optimistic young lad into a violent, empty shell lashing out at the world and drowning his sorrows in alcohol seemed almost unthinkable to Darathee when she was younger, with the tales her aunts and uncles had of the Great War being her only clue. Now, it was clear what her father went through, seeing such death and destruction wrought on an enormous scale, watching saurians and fellow dragons getting ripped and blown to pieces, seeing people she grew accustomed to interacting with bleeding out and dying, whole towns and cities laid waste, the horrific stresses placed on individuals caught in the midst of it all. A little piece of her hated that she felt sympathy for her father, after all he had put her through but she knew, he would have been a radically-different person were it not for the war.

Her train of thoughts, amidst automaton-like steps through the snow, was interrupted by a simple command: “Halt!”

Immediately, she paused and knelt close to the ground, her focus now on the foggy treeline right in front of her; once in a while, turned her head right or left to her Zugmates but for the most part, she was looking directly ahead.

The sar at the front of their group was Vizefeldwebel von Hoger and he was silently gesturing toward the trees ahead of them. He had apparently caught sight of a silhouette that looked distinctly like a bunker, hidden amidst the snow banks although he wasn’t entirely sure if his assumption was correct. Through more gestures, he announced that the Gruppe would have two groups split off to try to sneak up to where he thought he spied the bunker. He would lead one that would get to the alleged bunker’s left flank and Gefrieter Schwegler would lead the other, heading right while Feldwebel Steinwand, as Gruppe leader, would stay behind. Von Hoger would take Bellion and Thum with him while Schwegler had von Kungtaimer and Klett accompany him and the others (Pfefferle and Amazou) would remain with Steinwand.

Darathee followed Schwegler as he crept deeper into the woods, always ensuring that the supposed bunker was to his left; after countless hours of walking, the dragoness was exhausted and the flamethrower she carried didn’t help matters. She had the thing positioned between her wings and when she used it, she had to keep them open so they wouldn’t touch the tanks that housed the liquids. It had been her new weapon of choice, abandoning her rifle after Barti was grievously-wounded, giving in to her despair and hatred as she set enemy soldiers aflame. It had been well over a year since that terrible February day and in recent months, her anger had been cooled somewhat by the commander of a different Zug whom she had first met in Strassburg, one Herodozmus Kragath.

The pain still lingered though and she still felt a righteous fury as she burned any Communard foolish enough to stand in her way; she would raze Paris to the ground if it meant finally accepting Bartellkt’s passing and move on. Although she hadn’t heard anything concrete on whether he was truly dead even after almost two years. Still, even if he was actually alive, he would no doubt be in terrible shape and a part of her still felt justified in setting the enemy on fire.

Schwegler paused as they neared the bottom of a knoll, scanning his surroundings; all Darathee could hear was distant gunfire and explosions, from the rest of the Kompanie assaulting Savonnieres-en-Woevre some distance to the west. After what seemed like an eternity, the NCO resumed his movement and both the dragoness and Klett followed suit. Schwegler was a veteran member of the Kompanie, having been there apparently since the start of the war; he was one of the few members left who had been in the pre-war army, having enlisted in late 1938. He had always been quiet, being a sar of action and not words and his combat record certainly showed it; having been one to lead the charge, automatic rifle firing away, he was promoted over a year ago now for his leadership and dedication towards accomplishing the mission.

At the top of the knoll, they caught sight of five French soldiers standing about two dozen yards away, chatting with each other. From the shapes of their snouts and their sheer size, Darathee could tell these were saurians from Algeria; colonial troops who were some of the more fearsome and diehard soldiers in the Communard army. Schwegler took position at the top of the knoll, raised his rifle, and opened fire with a controlled burst, dropping one of the Frenchsars. As the others were reacting, Klett followed suit with his Mauser, downing another and forcing the Algerians to drop to the ground. Darathee diligently started moving around the now-prone French as Schwegler fired another burst, flanking the enemy position in the hopes of either burning them or forcing them to surrender.

Sure enough, the Algerians spotted her and one of the remaining three sars cried out, “Don’t shoot! We’ve had enough, we give up!”

Darathee approached them as they slowly stood up with their hands in the air, two of them towering over her. Schwegler ordered the Algerians against several trees and then made them sit down before tying their wrists together with pieces of cloth he conveniently had. She assumed he had those on hand for situations like this, when he had prisoners to detain but didn’t have the sarpower to guard them and needed to move on to a nearby objective. Once he was done, he asked the prisoners about a possible bunker in the area; the one who declared the surrender responded: “Yes, we were ordered to set one up in this forest a few days ago, our regimental commander was worried about the German division approaching Saint-Mihiel.”

“Then where is it?” Schwelger asked.

The Algerian stated in response, “It is to the northwest of here, in that direction.”

With a single acknowledging nod, the Megalosaurus carried off in the direction the prisoner pointed to and both Klett and Darathee followed after him. They walked on for a bit more when they suddenly heard nearby gunfire, obviously it was the other groups.

Klett muttered, “Either von Hogel’s group has contact with the enemy or that bunker is firing on Frau Steinwand.”

“Come on,” was Schwegler’s response as he hurried through the snow, in the direction of the gunfire.

The three of them sprinted along before they came upon a large clearing in the forest where a bunker made out of logs and sandbags sat on top of a hill. There was a Hotchkiss machine gun inside firing down at the opposite end of the clearing while rifle fire emanated from the other side.

“We have to help them!” Darathee cried.

“Quick, while they’re distracted!” Schwegler began leading the others closer to the bunker, hoping to take the French within by surprise. Taking position, the two riflesars opened fire whilst Darathee approached the porthole and let loose with her flamethrower. The whole bunker was soon an inferno as screams were heard inside, several French running out back into the snow and Klett quickly put them out of their misery with his bolt-action.

When the fire was dying down, Darathee sat beside the bunker’s smoldering ruin as two surviving Frenchsars were taken prisoner, one of whom being an officer. She caught sight of von Hogel’s group emerging from the other side of the trees, heading towards their position. Schwegler met with him and they had a quick conversation explaining what each patrol saw and did; apparently, Steinwand’s group attracted the attention of the French machine gunner and von Hogel had moved his group to suppress the bunker. They were exchanging fire with soldiers within the bunker when Schwegler’s group arrived. Once everything was done, they left the bunker, with Schwegler leading von Hogel to where he had left the prisoners.

Once they were retrieved, von Hogel took point and returned to Steinwand, who reported to her what his group and Schwegler’s did and saw. She then told them that Savonnieres-en-Woevre had been captured while they were flanking the bunker and that Zug Leader Leutnant Pasch had ordered them to return to report to him and Zug Commander Oberleutnant von Aichhalden as soon as they could.

Everyone quickly started marching along, the prisoners of the center of the formation, kept under watchful guard, as they hurried downhill into the valley below. The patrol was almost textbook, no one had been wounded and they accounted for eight French dead and five captured. Everyone expected to take a rest while awaiting their next assignment; the war raged on as Saint-Mihiel was, as far they knew, still in enemy hands. Darathee hoped that, once they got there, she would be given somewhere warm in that little farming village; even if she had to sleep on the floor and forced to crowd in with her Zugmates, it would beat sleeping in a cold tent.

Inspired by a photograph of German Volksgrenadiers in the Ardennes, this graphite drawing depicts Thaddeus Schwegler, Hans Klett, and Darathee von Kungtaimer in the forests of Nancy in the winter of 1944; by this point, the German army had broken out of Metz and Strassburg and was now on the offensive. The Communards were on the run, the massive offensive up the Meuse River pulled troops from other fronts in the hopes of defeating the Entente forces in the Low Countries, enabling the Americans to push on "Fortress Brest" while the Allied troops in southern France and northern Iberia were gaining extensive ground. Their one reprieve was the massive storms that rolled across Western Europe, grounding Allied aircraft and enabling ComIntern forces free reign without the fear of bombing and interdiction. While the other Allies were having great trouble with the weather and complete absence of aerial support, the Germans rolled onward, stomping on any Red resistance in their path; the Imperial war machine was in full force and many Germans were relieved to be on French soil after spending years fighting a defensive war in the Fatherland.