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In the Pacific theatre Chinese forces are fighting each other whilst fighting Japan at the same time.

Japanese forces are fighting Indian and other Commonwealth forces in Burma, whilst Australia is fighting Japan  in Papua New Guinea and Indonesia.  USA is fighting Japan in the Phillipenes. The Soviet/Japan border is quiet...for now.

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It is currently March 1946.  US troops are pushing hard to break the deadlock in western Europe.  The giant B-36 was making 10,000 mile trips to bomb German cities, but was under heavy attack by the latest German fighters.


B-36s making their way to Europe.


He 1078s scrambling to attack American bombers.


Me 1115 climbing to intercept high level B-36s

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Very well then,

The formation of Iberian Pact was no easy accomplishment, A Spain that had been torn by war and a Portugal that had a tough time dealing with its colonies weren't exactly up to it at first. But that changed during the beginnings of WWII.

The Fascist Regime in Spain under the Guidance of both Emilio Mola (whose Plane barely survived the bad weather in 1937) and Francisco Franco emerged Victorious in the Civil war. However following their victory they were left by a much devastated Spain and a Guerrilla Opposition led by the surviving Communists.

A government was officially formed as Franco assumed the rank of Generalissimo with Mola as his Protege, Franco quickly moved to suppress the Guerrilla and other enemies of the state, while Mola pursued economic and military strength, along with exploiting a golden opportunity which had developed in Portugal.

The Portugese Colony of Mozambique had risen into revolt due to the foolishness of the Portugese Governer there, this in turn had caused turmoil in the Fascist government of Salazar as his opposition rose up against him in an attempt to overthrow him, somehow the attempt was nearly successful and Salazar himself was nearly captured. After Fleeing Lisbon he was approached by Franco's Representative and within a few months the Dictator Salazar was restored as The Generalissimo of Portugal, although this came at a price of a substantial Spanish Influence in The Portugese Government.

With Portugal secure, Franco announced the Iberian Pact between himself and Salazar, however due to the costs of setting this up an attempt, Angola had yet to be reclaimed.

During the initial years of War in Europe, the Iberian Pact remained isolated focusing on recovery and mounting an expedition to Angola to restore it back to Portugese Control. There was some support for joining the Axis cause, headed by Mola, but despite Mola's best efforts Franco insisted on a very high price for Spanish entry causing no developments to occur.

Franco seemed to have proved that his way was better when the Americans Liberated France and North Africa through Overlord and Torch, Mola had also proven himself loyal in Franco's Eyes through saving him from a recent Assassination attempts and pacifying remaining resistance in Portugal.

Another Golden oppertuinity presented itself to Mola, the Expidition to Angola was finally ready however a devious idea had presented itself; a sneak attack on the Allies which would endanger their rear andcause their troops to falter, Franco again refused however after much negotiation it was agreed that if if in the unlikely event that Germany can halt both offensives from the East and West then Action will be taken against the allies.

This however came to pass and Franco kept to his word, he was even more enthusiastic because of Turkey's entry into the war. The cause of war was officially announced as due to the French resistances actions to support the Communist Guirellas -where in fact it was the other way around- and that the Spanish government shall move into Southern France to pacify these Terrorists.

Although the Main target is Gibralter, a victory there could be crucial to British Efforts and Now General Mola sits in command of Joint Iberian Forces to Enter Gibralter while Franco led Forces in Conjunction with the New Italian Government.

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The siege of Gibraltar was going poorly for the British. The shear numbers of Iberian troops were constantly bombarding the small garrison, yet the big guns of the British battleships were providing a brief respite.  Upon the Iberian entry in to the war, British troops immediatly occupied Ceuta and Melilla, which had only token forces guarding them.

Sir Ralph Eastwood, Governor of Gibraltar, knew that something had to be done now.  He had already asked the Royal Navy to send over as many ships as possible to evacuate the civilians, and now he faced the possibility of a total evacuation.  However, this would only be a last resort.

The latest intelligence reports had also indicated the possibility that Germany would try and use Iberia as a staging post to hit USA, using its latest long range bombers.  However, that would be a remote possibility while southern France remained under allied control.

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"Come one, compagni, lets go!" Ennio shouted, motioning with his free arm for his fellow soldiers to advance. "Our leaders wish us to take Nice before the week is up, and we shall not dissapoint!"

He was the leader of his squad, which had been ordered to take the Boulevard of General De Gaulle on Cape Ferrat.  Resistance was not heavy, since most of the troops had retreated to the center of the city, but reports were filtering back of a group of French pigs trapped on the Cape and fighting back fiercely. As soon as ihs squad was done here, they would head over to the docks to join up with the rest of the platoon and help them take the docks.

As they advanced, keeping off of the street, Ennio spotted a road block up ahead. Barrels, burned out trucks, mattresses and barbed wire. More likely than not, there were a few French soldiers behind it, waiting for him and his men to get in range so that they could start blasting away. Or surrendering. Whatever it would be, they would have to press on regardless.

"Halt!" Ennio called. His men  stopped and looked at him, waiting for orders. "That roadblock, there," Ennio said, pointing down the road.

"Si, signore?" one of his men asked.

"There is a high possibility French maiali are hiding behind it. Advance cautiously. Arsenio, as soon as we are in range, I want you to get a frag grenade and a smoke grenade out there. Provide suppressing fire and Giordano and I shall flank them and put them down. Understood? Go!"

The squad advanced quickly, weapons up and pointed at the roadblock. And, sure enough, quite soon a head popped up from behind the roadblock. Ennio brought up his Beretta pistol and popped off several shots. The head disappeared.

"Off of the sidewalk, compagni! Don't let them hit you!" The soldiers veered off of the sidewalk and onto the as of yet unspoiled lawns. Trees and hedgerows provided ample cover. Soon they were close to the roadblock.

"Arsenio!" Ennio yelled.

"Si!" A grenade was lobbed through the air, it landed behind the roadblock but a bit too far behind it to cause any real damage. It was followed a moment later by a smoke grenade.

Oh well, Ennio though.It might disorientate the French for a moment.

Soon smoke started pouring out of the smoke grenade.

"Suppressing fire! Giordano, you flank them from the left, I'll take them from the right!"

"Understood, sir!" Came the reply from the other side of the street. Ennio ran forward at a crouch, a thick hedge shielding him from view. Unfortunately, it prevented him from seeing the French soldiers. When he was certain he had gone enough, he popped up and started firing his MP44. He had gone a bit too far, but it didn't matter much. There were 10 of them, either hunkered down behind whatever cover they could find or firing back. The soldiers started dropping and screaming in pain as the bullets struck the from behind. Giordano was also shooting wildly from the other side of the street. No good; he shouldn't be wasting his ammunition like that. At that precise moment his clip emptied and Ennio dropped to his knees to reload. Bullets were being fired in his direction, but a guardian angel must have been watching over him that moment, because none hit him. He jammed another clip in, loaded it, and got up and continued firing.  More French dropped, but then Ennio, out of the corner of his eye, saw Giordano drop, a bullet in his shoulder. Ennio's second clip ended just as the last French soldier dropped, his chest strafed with holes. The rest of the men advanced, guns pointed at the roadblock. Ennio meanwhile, hurried across to Giordano. The man was unconcious, but breathing steadily, although the blood was flowing freely too.

"Medic!" Ennio yelled. A kindly 50 year old man, Giovanni, who served as the medic, hurried over to him. Ennio pointed to Giordano. Stop the bleeding, bring him to, and give him a shot of morphine. We can't take him with us, so tell him he is allowed to surrender, if he wishes, if any French come along. If they don't, then he should hunker down and wait for the reinforcements to come along. His wound are serious?"

Giovanni bit his lip, and said in a grandfatherly tone,

"He will not perish, but the bullet must be removed quickly. Alas, I have no tweezers."

Ennio grimaced. If the wound got infected, it would be very bad.

"Well, then attend yto him until he comes to. Then catch up with us."

"Si, signore."

Ennio nodded and joggde to his men, who were searching the bodies of the French.

"Lets go!"

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The Fall of Spanish Morocco had been a bad blow, but if Gibralter is taken...

Guns continue to pound the British defences, it would be either sooner or later. General Mola issued the Following dispatch:

"To the esteemed Governer and Foe, Sir Ralph Eastwood,

Our guns continue to strike at your defences and our Forces continue their offensive, You must realize that the end is near, if you choose to yield within the next 8 hours we shall gurantee safe passage to you and your men back home, if you do not then I am afraid that we shall have to deal with you as swiftly and as harshly as possible. This offer includes both Military and non-military British Personnel.

With Regards,

General Emilio Mola"

Meanwhile in Southern France, Generalissomo Franco is forced to return to Madrid to attened to urgent matters of the state, leaving General Augusto Guerner in command. Who would proceed to assault French positions across the Pyranes, however until more troops can be made availabl to the Campaign, the General focused much of his resources to harassing the French along with providing temporary air support to the Italian attmept on Nice till more troops arrive.

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Woops, wrong thread. ;) Since we lack a French player, and Dante hasn't been on for a few days and thus hasn't seen the ressurection of this thread, I'll only do small-scale advances, mmkay?

  The 7th Battalion was the last body of troops out of Albania. The rest of the troops had been ferried back to Italy, to flank the Americans and Brits, who had advanced up to the province of Salerno. All 60,000 of them had been sent back. Albania was counted as a strategically unimportant region - it would be dealt with later. The last task of the 7th Battalion was to sabotage a series of coastal artillery guns capable of sinking any Italian ships that would return eventually to retake Albania. They were donated by the USA or captured from Germans and shipped to Albania. There were not many of them, but better none than a few, so the 7th Battalion was ordered to destroy them using any means possible. There were 20 of them, spread out around 20 km or so of coastline.

  Leopoldo Nevio's squad was given the task of destroying the 2 coastal guns deemed most dangerous to ships. At the moment, the squad was readying itself to attack the first of the two.

"Alright, compagni, I want a machine-gun set up on that knoll over there and two grenades as soon as we start shooting. Those Albanians are poorly armed and poorly trained, but do not let down your guard," Leopoldo said in a whisper as his men crouched around him. The coastal gun and the soldiers guarding it were less than 40 feet away. It was raining and a thick fog had settled over the area.

"Make sure to aim your shots well, it'll be hard to see in this weather. Toni, Dario, you man the machine-gun. Vitale and Nicomedo, you throw the grenades, then follow me. They are 20 or more, we are 15, 13 if you do not count the machine-gunners. On my command, open fire with the machine-gun. As soon as Toni and Dario start firing, Vitale and Nicomedo, throw a grenade each. We shall be charging them at that time. Make sure to throw the grenades far enough to affect them and not endanger us. If it works as planned, it should be over in 5 minutes. On my command, gentlemen. All right, take up positions."

The squad fanned out in pairs and in threes. Leopoldo took up position behind a dead oak, with a clear view over to the machine-gunners. Toni and Dario stared back at him, waiting for the order. The Albanian soldiers were lounging and chatting idly, or cleaning their weapons out in the open. To or three patrolled the area around the coastal gun, and several sat in foxholes. Leopoldo counted to three, then made the "Go!" motion to Toni and Dario. Almost immediately the peace and tranquility was broken by the rat-tat-tat of the machine-gun, a Breda modello 37. The 7th Battalion had been lucky enough to have been issued with these, and while the German and American machine-guns were much more desireable, most forces who were issued with it counted themselves lucky for not receiving the horrendous Breda modello 30 or 35. The Albanian troops looked disorientated for a moment as their comrades were mowed down, but sprang into action as they realised where the shots were coming from. By now Leopoldo was running forward, shooting his Beretta model 1938, his men following. As they ran, they saw 2 round objects land rihgt beside the coastal gun; a moment later they exploded, throwing back several meters the three soldiers manning the gun.

"Blast them away, compagni! Leopoldo roared over the chatter of bullets and shouting. A head popped up out of a nearby foxhole, a flimsy cap the only protection. Leopoldo let off several rounds and heard the death rattle  of the man as a bullet struck his head. His hopped in the foxhole and changed his clip, which was almost empty. Fresh clip in hand, he poked his head out from the foxhole and peered out onto the battlefield. Most of the Albanian soldiers were dead; a few were wounded and writhing in pain or slowly dying. He let off a burst onto a man who seemed only slightly wounded and who was reaching for his weapon. The man spasmed, then lay still. For several minutes there was the occasional burst of submachine-gun fire, but other than that, it was quiet. It seemed one side had been defeated, either his troops or the Albanians. He got up to his feet, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his men regrouping. He waved with his hands, beckoning them to get closer.

"Regroup at the coastal gun!" Leopoldo shouted, and started walking towards the gun. When all his men had convened, he asked, "Did we lose anyone?"

"Dario got hit by a stray bullet, sir, he's dead and Nicomedo is wounded," one of them men said. Leopoldo frowned.

"Will he make it?" The soldier shrugged.

"The medic who's attending to him says he will, but not unless he gets proper medical attention."

"Where is he?"

"Over there, sir," the soldier said, pointing to a trench where Leopoldo could see the squad's medic squatting down.

"Many thanks. Alright, men, rest up and check the bodies for anything useful. We'll move out in half an hour," Leopoldo said, hurrying over to the trench. As he got there, he could see Nicomedo lying down, a white bloodstained bandage wrapped around his shoulder. The medic looked up at Leopoldo and said,

"We have to get him to a hospital, anywhere where he can be treated properly. He has internal bleeding which is easy to mend, but if left unattended it might warrant amputation of the arm or even death." Leopoldo looked at Nicomedo, whose face was pale but concious.

"Nic, amico, can you hear me?" The wounded man nodded his head slowly.

"Good. Can you get back to base camp by yourself?"

"Si, signore," Nicomede said, a sour look on his face.

"Good, because we can't take you back and if you're left unnatended to, you'll die. Give us your pack and weapon, take my Beretta pistol. Now, get up!" Leopoldo said with a grunt as he hoisted Nicomedo to his feet. The man swayed a little, but steadied himself.

"You know the way back, yes?"

"Yes, sir," Nicomedo said.

"Good. It is only a few kilometers, you will make it back in an hour. Now go!" Nicomedo saluted, and walked off slowly into the distance. Leopoldo watched him until he entered the woods nearby, and then turned his attention back to the gun.

"Get some dynamite into the barell!" Their demolitons expert, a small man named Giraldo, withdrew a stick of dynamite from his backpack, but said apologetically, "I'm sorry, sir, but I have no blasting caps."

Leopoldo took the stick, stuck it into the barrel of the gun, and asked in a loud voice, "Did anyone find any grenades on the bodies?"

Toni, the mchine-gunner, came up to leopoldo and said,

"Yes, sir. Here, sir," and gave Leopoldo a Soviet grenade. No surprise there. He pulled out the pin and stuffed it down the barrel of the coastal gun.

"Get clear of the gun!" He shouted, jogging away to a safer distance. His soldiers followed his cue and step back several meters. A moment later, there was a metallic bang and after the smoke cleared, the barrel was mangled and unusable.

"One gun down," Leopoldo said proudly. "And one to go. Lets move out!"

The whole squad was killed in the battle for the second coastal gun, but not before destroying it, too. Their bodies were never recovered.

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All across Ulster, explosions could be heard.  Explosions that shattered eardrums and glass alike.  The IRA had launched a massive campaign against the minimal British forces there. As Pvt Smith was blown back by the blast, he looked to his left and right, and saw the dead bodies of soldiers, his friends.  Grabbing a Colt .45 from his pocket, he fired off three rounds at a nearby IRA terrorist, who dropped down dead.  Running over the body, he picked up the dead man's weapon. An MP44.  The Private was shocked, as this could only mean one thing.  German involvement.  He ran over to a Machine Gun emplacement, where he was met by Major Clancy.  As they met, a grenade rolled in between them, but in that split second, Pvt Smith threw it straight back, and lauched himself on to the gun.  As the Major fed in the belt, the two of them helped repel the initial IRA onslaught.  Snipers in nearby buildings were rapidly adding to the British dead, but when the British Armoured Cars arrived, they brought the area back under British Control.  Fairey Battles from the RAF Reserve had been called in to launch airstrikes against known IRA strongholds.

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Synopsis post; Stalin one on different PC.

What no one doubted was that preceding the closure of the Second World War, the losses of the Soviet Union would be vastly superior to both their Allies and nemesis.

Operation Barbarossa caught Russia off-guard and ill-equipped. The NAP formation with Nazi Germany had been a act of time, nothing more. Reality had set in, however, once the occupying armies had begun their march to Moscow.

The facilities which had begun to produce arms for the once-tsarist regime failed to reach their capacity, rather falling back on failures of quotas and questionable moral. Further and further the Russians were pushed back, until finally the chariot of war halted outside the Kremlin's doorsteps.

Meanwhile, German brigades elsewhere began an intense battle for Stalingrad. Surrounding the city, the tactic of siege was utilized, much the same way of the Romans centuries previous. For months an intense battle bloodied the desolate landscape, claiming both lives and material from a stretched Nazi militia.

Increasingly desperate, Stalin had called upon the Siberian reserves. It was thought, particularly to him, that the immediate threat following the NAP declaration lied within the Japanese movements in China, and the possibility of an amphibious landing. But yet, as time dwindled on, the possibility of German occupation seemed increasingly imminent and the boats from the East a fallacy greater than the warm-ports of the Crimean War.

Once reinforced, the battle had turned. T-34s en mass crippled Tiger divisions, and the soldiers held a degree of insanity not anticipated even by the commanding officers. Soon the Nazi divisions were in fast retreat, stopping only to retrieve their comrades fallen amongst the white.

The bodies in Stalingrad, a destination not far off from the soldiers falling back from the capital, piled past the level standing of the charred and blackened structures. Bullet holes rippled the architecture

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