War Plan Red - A Fallen Angels Campaign

We regret to inform our readers that at 06.00 today, 14^th February, 1937, the United States of America invaded Canada.

Without issuing a declaration of war, American troops crossed onto Canadian soil in four major locations. Supported by naval and air forces, the troops are advancing on Montreal, Winnipeg and Ontario. Despite the valiant efforts of its defenders, the city of Halifax has already fallen.

 

American Troops In Halifax

 

 



Not only is this cowardly, unprovoked action, an attack on the good people of Canada; it is an assault on every member of our great empire and our government promises that our retribution shall be swift and merciless!

 

 

 

US objectives in its war against the Great British Empire

War Plan Red, An Act Of Heinous Betrayal

In 1927, the United States of America, supposedly an ally of England, drew up plans for a joint military offensive against the Great British Empire. The aim was to smash the empire, with the end result being to conquer England, or leave her isolated and too weak to pose a threat to American expansion.

The origins of WPR can be traced back to the fact that the Americans still (even to this present time) resent the fact that they were once a colony of England. Of course, much of this bitterness is due to the fact that the War Of Independence was the biggest mistake America ever made. This deep seated rancour was behind America's reluctance to ally itself with England in her struggle for world freedom during the Great War.

 

 

American Propaganda

 

 

We have been provided with a captured copy of War Plan Red, which details the depth of American treachery. The plan was approved in May 1930 by the US Secretary of War and the Secretary of Navy and has been regularly updated, with the full knowledge of the American government, since that time.

The first part of War Plan Red lists Canada's geography, military resources and infrastructure, then goes on to evaluate a series of possible American offensives to simultaneously invade Canada in several key areas, so as to occupy ports and railways, before England would be able send reinforcements to her Canadian friends.

In preparation for this act of treachery, Congress gave the US War Department $57 million to build three air bases, for the sole purposes of pre-emptive, surprise attacks on Canada. These military airfields were disguised as civilian airports in an effort to hide the Yankee's cowardly intentions.

16^th February, 1937

Thanks to the quick thinking of Canadian lieutenant colonel James 'Buster' Brown, American land forces have been stalled and are, at this very moment, beginning to retreat. With the exception of the attack on Halifax, all of the American columns have fallen short of their objectives.

We are also jubilant to report that British S-class submarines engaged the Yankee Atlantic fleet in the early hours of this morning, as they attempted to navigate their way into the Great Lakes. The Americans suffered heavy losses, including their flagship, USS Utah, that was sunk by HMS Salmon. We strongly urge the Navy Chiefs to have Salmon's captain, Lieutenant Commander Bickford and his crew, mentioned in dispatches for their heroism.

The American fleet is still being harassed by British forces as it retreats back to US territorial waters.

These excerpts from The Free World Press are reproduced with the kind permission of its owner, Sir G. Ossip.

 

 

     The whole campaign is available from  www.1poundrules.website as part of the science fiction Fallen Angels rules.  And it only costs £1:)  





 



Ragnarok. A Wiking Story

What a great New Year's present, the opportunity to drive the Reds back and re-take Budapest to relieve our trapped comrades there. It should have been easy, we were only ninety kilometres away, with a full Russian army corps in our path after all.

It was January 1st, 1945, I had no idea if it was light or not, because it was snowing too hard to see anything except a blur of white through my vision slit. It was as if Fimbulvetr had finally come, heralding the start of Ragnarok and for Wiking, it had.

Our division was drawn up on the start line, with Totenkopf somewhere over to our left. We'd been in position for hours and I felt as if I was going to freeze to death if we didn't get moving soon.

I had only been with the division a week and Operation Konrad was to be my first experience of combat. At that moment of time, I was questioning why I had volunteered to join such madness, instead of staying in the safety of my parent's home in far away Denmark.

Finally, the signal came through and we moved off to the roar and Maybach engines, as our tanks and half-tracks went in search of the enemy. We didn't have long to wait, we ran right into the Red's 4^th Guards Army just outside of Tata and with help from our brother division, we virtually annihilated them in a few short hours of bitter fighting.

Our advance continued, despite the best efforts of the Gods and Stalin and by January 4^th we were only twenty eight kilometres from our goal. But we never managed to get any further than Bicske, as the Reds must have moved half of their army between us and Budapest.

We were eventually pulled back and ordered south to Esztergom, where we spearheaded Konrad 2 on the 7^th January.  Once again, the weather was horrendous and we could barely see our hands in front of our faces as we tried to fight our way to the besieged city.

One of our grenadier regiments reached Pilisszenthereszt on the 12^th and reported that they could see the spires of Budapest through the early morning mist. But once again, we were fated to be pulled back, this time because we didn't have enough supplies to maintain the momentum of our advance.

Our third push for Budapest began on the 20^th January and we smashed a twenty four kilometre wide hole in the Russian lines, utterly destroying the 135^th Rifle Corps in the process. But once again, Fate was against us and Konrad 3 ended on January 28^th. Between Wiking and Totenkopf we had pointlessly lost over eight thousand good men and Budapest surrendered on 13^th February, many of the men taken prisoner there destined to die a pain filled death in a Russian gulag.

From the failure of Konrad 3, we were ordered west to join the 6^th SS Panzer Army at Lake Balaton. But we had lost so many men and so much of our equipment, that we could only play a supporting role in the offensive. Even so, we became involved in heavy fighting on the left flank of the push, as the Bolsheviks tried to out manoeuver Sepp's panzers.

Once again, the advance stalled due to lack of supplies and the Reds counter attacked on 15^th March. They broke through our lines between us and the Totenkopf to our north and everything soon turned into total chaos. We had no idea where any of the other German forces were and were in serious danger of being cut off.

Fortunately for us, Hohenstaufen came to our rescue, managing to hold the Berhida Corridor open long enough for Gille to lead us to the relative safety of our own lines.

But our respite was short. On the 24^th March, the Russians smashed through our positions and the division was forced to make a fighting withdrawal deeper into Czechoslovakia.

Nearly all of our vehicles were gone, either destroyed or simply out of fuel. We were running low on ammunition and our supplies of food were critically low as well. There was a lot of debate among us enlisted men about what we should do. Nobody wanted to be taken by the Reds, we all knew what would happen if we fell into their hands, but our options were limited to say the least.

On 7^th May, commander Gille announced that he was going to seek terms of surrender from the Americans to our west. He told us that the American general Patton, wanted to carry the war to the Russians as soon as Germany surrendered and that maybe we would be able to join him in the final victory over Bolshevism.

But then survivors from the Totenkopf reached us with news that the remnants of their division had surrendered to the Americans, who had promptly executed 80 wounded men that were unable to walk and then begun marching the survivors towards the Russians to hand them over.

This caused a new wave of debate about the choices we faced, but in the end, we had no option, as our supplies were all gone and Gille led us into captivity at Fűrstenfeld in Austria on the 9^th May 1945.

It was nearly two years later, before the Americans released me. Two years of interrogations and beatings about the conduct of Wiking during its role in Russia. Political brainwashing to tell me how my dream of a world free from the threat of Bolshevism was wrong and to convince me that I had unwittingly been a member of an illegal organisation.

I eventually returned to a Denmark that I didn't know and that didn't want to know me. My parents and their home were gone, victims of an allied bombing raid. I was a demon that nobody wanted to talk to, let alone employ.

My whole street had turned out to see me off when I left to fight the Russians. I had been a hero, guaranteed a seat amongst the Old Gods if I fell. Yet on my return, I wasn't even given a pension for having fought as a soldier in the service of the free world.

I eventually emigrated to an America gripped by fear of communism. I found a job in a German owned security company in a small town in New Mexico. Within a year I was married and am now the proud father of two strong sons who have been raised to never trust a Red.

Sometimes I meet other veterans from the division and we talk about old times over a beer. Then I wake up in cold sweats, screaming, as I relive the deaths of my comrades in my nightmares.

As with my other short stories about the Wiking division, the events that take place are loosely based on fact. However, the main character in Ragnarok is fictitious, as are the events pertaining to him at the end of the story.

The reference to American troops murdering prisoners from the Totenkopf Division is taken from www.historyworldwar2-bodong.blogspot.gr/2011/01/nazi-germany-toughest-fighters-ss.html

The Totenkopf division didn't want to be captured by the Soviets, so they attacked the American 11th Armoured Division. The Americans, who suffered heavy losses, were angered by this. When the Totenkopf surrendered (to the Americans) they were turned over to the Soviets at Linz in 1945. Those who were wounded or simply too exhausted to make it to Pregarten were executed by the Americans along the way. Some 80 men in all suffered this fate.

The murders are also referred to in the history book Totenkopf by Charles Trang.

 

Much is made about the part Soviet Russia played in the downfall of Germany and there is no doubt that there were many Russian heroes.  But it must be remembered that Russia would have fallen if it had not been for an English team breaking the enigma code and England supplying Russia with valuable information about the intentions of the Germans.

Blood For The God Of Blood, a Wiking Story by Mark

We arrived in the lands of our ancestors in June 1941, fresh from the fjords of Norway; each of us determined to teach the Reds that their masters had returned; that Russia belonged to us; the sons of the Rus. A thousand years ago, everyone from the black forests of Prussia to the Dnieper, from the Baltic to the Black Sea, had paid gafol to the Vikings. Now we were back and we claimed our tribute in Bolshevik blood.

Proudly, we wore our Wiking armband, our mark of belonging to a brotherhood of heroes. And like the Vikings of old, we took whatever we wanted. Long gone were the days of swords and shields, we used machine guns and tanks, sending thousands upon thousands of souls up as our offering to Odin, as we scythed our way across the steppes. One Eye was happy, none could stand against us and we were soon cheering as we watched shells falling around the Kremlin's spires.

But Odin is a God of changeable mood; just when we thought our victory was certain, he decreed that our offering was not enough. For our sacrifice to please him, it had to be pure, free from any goal, other than the spilling of blood in His name, a seat in Valhalla, our sole reward for our devotion to Him.

And so we killed and killed again. Back through those ill fated names; Stalingrad; Kursk; Kharkov. Each a desperate rearguard action, where Wiking was left to stand alone against the growing darkness that poured out of the east. Until finally, we came to our nemesis, Korsun.

We spent every day and every night, from 24^th January to 16^th February 1944 dying, so that our Wehrmacht comrades might survive. Even so, despite our best efforts, by the second week of February, the German forces were penned into an area roughly three miles across and the situation was desperate.

In one last, desperate attempt to break out, my section was given the honour of holding the village of Shanderovka, until the last of the other units had withdrawn past Hill 239 and crossed the river beyond to the relative safety of Lisyanka. What the great High Command failed to take into consideration, was that one entire flank of the intended path of retreat, was still held by the Bolsheviks. This was to be Wiking's Ragnarok and the few of us that survived it, would never be the same again.

In pitch darkness on the night of the 16^th February, the German army began its retreat, leaving, nearly three hundred men of Wiking, to delay the Reds for as long as possible. Nearly two thousand years before, the men of Sparta had made this same sacrifice at Thermopylae, their names being sung throughout time because of their heroism. Why then is it, that the names of the men of Wiking have been lost in the mists of the distant past? If they are recalled at all, it is only as demons to scare spoilt Russian brats into behaving themselves.

Were our sacrifices not as great as those of the men from ancient Greece? Did we not freely give our blood that the light of freedom might shine a little longer? Did we not stand against the eastern hoard, that you might sleep safely in your bed today?

No sooner had the last of the retreating troops left the village, than there was the sound of gunfire behind us, an ill omen of things to come. But we had no time to think of that, as by 01.00 the first Bolsheviks came to see if there was still anyone at home in Shanderovka.

We waited until they were almost on top of us, so that we couldn't possibly miss, then cut them down in their hundreds. But as one died, two took his place. No matter how many lives we reaped, there were always more and we were soon locked in deadly hand to hand combat, where it was every man for themselves.

We killed with bullets and grenades until these ran out. Then we fought on with bayonets, entrenching tools, knives, boots, fists and teeth. We were plastered in so much blood, that we couldn't tell what was the enemies' and what was our own. We were like the berserkers of the past, gripped by a battle madness that made us virtually immune to wounds. The only time we stopped fighting, was when we died.

This is what Odin had demanded of us in tribute to His name. There was no thought as to why we were killing. No concern for our comrades, or even our own survival. We killed simply so that we could kill again. Like deadly automated robots from some crazy science fiction film, we waded through spilt blood and guts, stumbled over fallen bodies, with the single purpose of getting to our next victim.

Our screams were those of battle frenzy, our limbs moved of their own accord. The Valkyries sang the ancient sagas, as they chose the latest heroes to join Odin in His last battle. Until finally, we found ourselves alone, in a night lit by the ruddy flames of the burning village around us.

There was an eerie silence, that can only come when the cacophony of battle falls silent. There was nobody left to kill, none of the enemy at least. But mercy decreed that our offering of death was not yet complete. Although the enemy was gone for the moment, we had fulfilled our objective and it was now time for us to leave Shanderovka to its fate. Before we could do this however, we had to give our wounded brothers as painless a death as possible.

Everyone of us had seen what the Reds did to anyone stupid enough to be taken alive by them. Prisoners faced an agonising death, that could last for days. So, we went in search of guns that still had bullets, then tended to those we called our friends, who were not fit enough to take one more walk with us.

I found Bjorn, sprawled against what was left of a cottage wall. He was holding in his guts that were trying to spill out of his ripped open belly. He smiled when he saw me coming through his bleary eyes. We had grown up in Trondheim together, had skipped school to go fishing together. Had sailed to Germany in our quest for adventure together. And now, we would share his last moments on this world together.

I knelt beside him in the bloody snow and passed him the butt of my cigarette. He took a pull, his eyes locked on mine. I had no bullets to send him on his final journey but in a way, it was more fitting that a blade would end his life. He started to take another pull on the cigarette and I skilfully slid the bayonet between his ribs. His eyes widened for a brief moment, before the light went out of them forever.

It is one thing to kill a stranger at a distance with a gun, another to kill him up close with a knife. Yet it is something completely different to watch the life leaving the eyes of someone you love. I knelt beside Bjorn for a moment, lost in memories of the past we had shared. Then put my hand on his cheek, my tears running unchecked, as I said farewell to my friend.

The rest of the division had held the southern section of the line of retreat, so, our final act of kindness done, the remaining one hundred and eighty of us followed their trail, our plan being to reach the tiny bridge over the Gniloy Tikich river before the Russian army got there ahead of us.

Gunfire was still lighting up the sky in front of us, seeming much too intense to bode anything good and we hadn't been marching for more than half an hour, before we came across the first German bodies. The evidence of fighting increased as we pressed into the night and it wasn't much longer before we caught up with stragglers from the retreating column.

We had been picking up whatever weapons we could find as we marched and now had an assortment guns, even having found two MG42's. So we rounded up all the stragglers that we found who could still walk, forming a defensive ring around them as we continued towards our own lines. Deadly field grey ghosts, walking through a twilight world.

We reached the edge of a small grove of trees, just as day was breaking. Before us was a scene out of Dante's pictures of hell. Horse-drawn wagons, clearly marked with red crosses, were being used as playthings by Russian T-34's, like cats playing with blind mice. We watched helplessly as wagon after wagon of German wounded was crushed beneath the tracks of the Russian Goliaths, until their red stars were all but lost under countless layers of blood and gore.

I stood frozen as I watched a medical orderly pick up a fallen rifle to stand between a wounded horse and an oncoming tank. He emptied the magazine at the armoured monster, then threw himself at it in a futile attempt to make it turn away from the helpless animal. He slid beneath the tracks a moment before the tank ploughed over the horse, sending its life blood geysering into the morning sky to stain the surrounding snow. Gunfire and revving engines all but drowned out the screams of the wounded and dying, making the slaughter seem strangely surreal as we watched helplessly from our shelter amongst the trees.

There was nothing we could do against armour, so we turned back into the forest until we could safely resume our course west once more. But what would have been an easy stroll in other circumstances, took us all morning to achieve, with running gun battles and hiding from marauding Russian tanks. And the whole time, there was the constant sound of gunfire coming from our left. Testimony that something was going terribly wrong indeed.

We eventually reached the bridge at just after noon, to find the majority of the division had already crossed the river. It was about forty five feet wide here and extremely fast flowing, which made crossing it a daunting task to say the least. The original bridge had been destroyed by enemy gunfire but tanks and lorries had been driven into the icy waters, then trees had been felled to form a makeshift bridge, over which a steady stream of soldiers was struggling with their wounded comrades.

We rejoined our unit, that was forming the outer defensive ring of the river crossing and the killing began all over again for us. This time, we had some old mark four tanks with us and some of the new Panthers were giving us supporting fire from the far bank of the river. But still wave upon wave of Bolsheviks threw themselves against us, their sole purpose being to crush us into the frigid wasteland of the Russian steppes.

I lost all track of time, all sense of reality and nearly killed Tomas when he grabbed my arm to tell me it was finally our turn to fall back. I was the last one onto the rickety, makeshift bridge and was only halfway across, when a shell exploded slightly upriver from me. The resultant wave swept me off the slippery log I was on and I was carried off by the torrent.

I have no idea how I survived, or how long I was unconscious. My first memories after being washed away, were of being wrapped in warmth. I opened my eyes, to find myself in the arms of a woman. Her face was plastered in so much dirt and blood, that I couldn't tell if she was beautiful or not. But at that moment, she was the most gorgeous woman I had ever set eyes on.

She introduced herself as Alyona, explaining that she was one of the White Cossacks who worked as auxiliaries in the German army and had been separated from her friends in the chaos of the fighting. I only spoke a few words of Russian but luckily, Alyona spoke fluent German and I knew enough of that to get by.

She told me how she had eventually managed to cross the river much lower down than the bridge. But no sooner had she reached safety, than she had seen me being swept by. Fortunately, I had been in fairly shallow water and she had been able to haul me out of the water and drag me out of sight. Now, we were in a deserted cottage, somewhere in a wood, on the western bank of the Gniloy Tikich.

At least we were on the German side of the river, hopefully. But our situation still wasn't good. I was just taking stock of our surroundings, when it suddenly dawned on me that I was naked. So was Alyona. I could see our uniforms draped over a table in the centre of the room. We were wrapped in some blankets that had seen much better days but now I was aware of it, I was definitely pressed against female flesh.

I was covered in small wounds and scratches, my body ached all over, I had been fighting for... I had no idea how long. I had recently nearly drowned but I still managed to get excited as my body realised what was happening. I couldn't believe it. I was twenty three, one of Hitler's elite soldiers and yet I blushed! I had killed so many men that I had lost count long ago and didn't even see their faces in my dreams any more. But I had never been with a woman.

Alyona seemed to sense something had changed. “Are you OK?” She whispered. We were so close, that I felt the warmth of her breath on my cheek and it did nothing to ease my discomfort. Then she moved, so that she could see me clearer and my member brushed against her thigh.

“Oh.” That was all either of us said. Alyona smiled at me, then like that English nurse, Florence Nightingale, she carefully eased me back onto the floor, rolling on top of me, so as not to let any of the heat escape our blankets. She kissed me, my first ever kiss from anyone other than my mother. But my mother's kiss had never done this to me before.

Our lips parted and I opened my eyes to find her watching me. Had I died? Was this my reward? Was I really in Valhalla? Then I didn't care any more. Alyona raised herself slightly, wriggled, another wriggle and she gasped. I had thought Hnefatafl was good until now! The game had suddenly lost all of its appeal. I couldn't do anything, simply having to lie there and let Alyona set the pace. But that suited me fine. This was the best thing that had ever happened to me. We were both filthy, both of us stank, yet I wouldn't have changed a thing. And of all my memories of my youth, this is the one that I cherish the most nearly forty years later.

I could feel Alyona's pert nipples digging into my chest, standing out in contrast to the softness of her breasts. Her belly slid over mine as she moved her hips, the sweat of her labours matting our bodies together. And the longer we were locked together, the greater the heat became, until a raging inferno filled my belly. Yet with all of that passion locked in my loins, our kisses were the most gentle things I had ever experienced. Though my body was a seething maelstrom, our kisses were moments of total calm, that freed me of the nightmares of my past.

And just when I thought that I couldn't last a single second more, the look in Alyona's eyes changed, so that I had a glimpse of creation. She let out a soft moan and a tremor ran through her body, causing my release as it reached my manhood. As she was calm, I was tempest, until finally I was spent, cradling Alyona in my arms.

I have spent much of my all too long life in a Russian gulag, never again feeling the love and tenderness of a woman. I have no idea what became of Alyona but hope that she lived a happy life, perhaps even raising another Rus. And in my happiest dreams, telling him how she shared a moment of bliss with his father amongst the carnage of a long forgotten war.

This is the second of my Wiking stories and as with the others, the events are based on fact, however, my main characters are fictitious.

Hueys for Orks

     I love Mary Gentle's idea about Orks having access to all sorts of weapons and equipment (See Grunts, by Mary Gentle) it fits in with my love of being able to field anything that takes your fancy, as long as your opponent agrees.  So, here is Da 1st Choppaz!

The 1^st Choppaz

(Official History)

 

 

The 1^st Choppaz owes its existence to two brothers, Brain Storma and Sneak. Actually nobody knows Sneak's real name, you know how it is, there's always the famous one and the other one. However, as Sneak was a master of cunning and surprise, he would probably be pleased with this state of affairs.

The brothers were born into The Broken Fang clan, but right from the word go, the other members of the clan thought that there was something not right about them. The neighbour of their parents recalls: “They wuz never right, if you know wot I mean? They wuz always sneakin' about an' fiddlin' wiv stuff. It ain't rite fer an Ork u know.”

Things came to a head the night before Brain Storma and Sneak were to take their rightful places amongst The clan. They simply disappeared. They went to bed as normal and were gone in the morning. Nobody knows what happened, although rumour and speculation are rife, but they weren't seen again for over a year and their reappearance has become the stuff of legend.

Humans had launched a massive invasion of Aper, the home planet of The Broken Fang, taking the clan totally by surprise. A series of bloody defeats had seen the Orks driven back to The Slumz, an area of ravines and low mountains where the detritus of Ork society tried to eke out a living. The situation was growing increasingly difficult for the Orks, as the humans had established a FOP (forward observation post) on what they called, Signal Hill.

Hidden amongst broken rocks and gullies, the Orks watched as the humans gathered themselves for a final assault, when suddenly the sky split and a flying 'thing' appeared, shrouded in thick smoke. Rock music blared out, nearly deafening those on the ground below with The Mob Rulez and fiery trails preluded repeated explosions across the summit of Signal Hill.

There was a roar similar to that of a MG and suddenly the humans were in disarray. At first it was a wavering in their lines, then individuals began to break ranks. This quickly became a stream and the stream quickly grew into a raging river, as the human army tried to flee the airborne death that was hunting them.

Finally, the weapon fire ceased, the rock music fell silent and all that could be heard, was the noise of the strange craft's engines. The Orks rose to their feet and began cheering their saviour, as they shakily walked into the open. What we now call a helicopter, flew along their ragged lines, until it hovered in front of the clan chief, Gut Rippa. Their was a collective gasp of surprise, as everyone recognised Brain Storma and Sneak through the windscreen, then the helicopter slowly wheeled around and disappeared towards the setting sun.

From that moment on, there has been a trickle of Orks who leave the clan and head off into the dark, never to be seen again. But the story of Brain Storma and The 1^st Choppaz has become a legend among Ork clans far and wide. Although still nominally members of The Broken Fang, the members if the1^st are more like freelancers, who will fight for any Ork with enough money to make it worth their while. They never have to be summoned, always seeming to appear exactly when the moment is right.

The 1^st consists of 120 fighting Orks that are organised into 4 squadrons of 30 Orks in 3 Choppaz. The members of the outfit consider themselves to be special forces, although none of them have any idea as to what this really is.

Their first major operation as a unit was to take another hill, this one called The Boarz Teef in the Black Boar Mountains, prior to the clan launching operation Smash 'Em. Even though they had already spent a week behind enemy lines doing some reekon for the planned offensive, A section was given the honour of taking the hill.

They flew in low, virtually at ground zero, trying to avoid being spotted by the enemy, but as they started to climb the northern side of their target, they came under concentrated fire from ground troops. Brain Storma himself was in the second choppa and as Fate would have it, this was the one that was forced to land when its rear rotor was hit.

The pilot brought the craft down safely, but the Orks found themselves less than halfway to the summit. Brain Storma organised his team and they headed towards what they hoped would be friendly positions by the time they got there.

The terrain was arduous, even for Orks and sunset found them still short of their objective. They took shelter for the night in a cave that was deep enough for them to have a small fire, without its light being spotted by anyone outside and after posting two sentries, the rest of the squad turned in.

All hell broke loose at around 02.00 hours when a male tauranox that had been tracking them, tried to take one of the sentries for its midnight snack. Both sentries opened fire, totally forgetting their training and the fact that they were technically behind enemy lines. But a lucky shot quickly brought the huge predator down and left everyone with a hearty breakfast when the sun finally began to rise at 06.30.

After a great start to the day with barbequed tauranox, the section took off uphill and reached the rest of their squadron around noon. The others had used demo charges to make a rough clearing and the rest of the day was spent opening it up so that other choppaz could land with reinforcements.

During that night, the enemy infiltrated to within small weapons range and the Orks came under sporadic fire from snipers that they couldn't see due to the heavy undergrowth. But once there was enough light to the following morning, Brain Storma sent out a squad to consolidate their position. The following is an excerpt from the squad's report:

'After 'alf 'an 'our of workin' our way through 'evy bush, we came across one uv the 'umanz. 'E must av thought we wuz wun uv em, cuz 'e stood up an' da look on 'is face wuz a pikture. 'E stood der wiv 'is arms by 'is side, 'is eyes an' mouf wide open not nowin' wot to do. So we shot 'im.'

Once their perimeter was clear, the Orks could enjoy an unspoilt view of the main battle as it played out hundreds of feet below them. All they had to do was spot enemy movements and call in ranges and positions to the 'evy guns.

The Orks of The 1^st held their LZ high above a vast ocean of clouds and jungle for close to three weeks, providing vital fire support and Komms relay for the Orks taking part in the main offensive. Without their support, it is doubtful whether operation Smash 'Em would have succeeded.

 

 

Choppa – 200 points + crew, weapons and equipment 

Move – 12+2xD6” Armour – 8 Save - 4+

Crew – Pilot + at least 3

2 HMG's that are forward firing – 15 points

Range 36” Strength 5 may fire 3 times

1 HMG by either side door with a 180º arc of fire – 15 points

Range 36” Strength 5 may fire 3 times

(There is a selection of ammunition to choose from for HMG's at an extra cost. This is detailed in the specifications appendix that comes with the main rules sets.)

May carry 4 missiles, may choose which type (specifications depend on the type chosen)

OR

a forward firing mini-gun – 30 points

Range – 24 Strength – 4 may fire 4 times.

After the gun has fired, roll a D6 on 4+ you may fire 4 times again and keep doing so as long as you roll a 4+. If you are not successful you may not fire next turn as the gun has to be reloaded.

May use flare dischargers

Can fly, all be it erratically! The choppaz move 12” + 2xD6” to represent their erratic nature. Roll once per turn for all choppaz in a squadron.

All choppaz must maintain a maximum of 12” from the nearest choppa.

They can fly over all terrain.

They count as -1SS for enemy firing at them while flying

They may hover.

Must land to pick up troops but troops can rappel, which means the Choppa can hover and still deploy troops.

Choppaz are only lightly armoured, but the pilots are so bad that the craft is all over the place, making it a miracle if the enemy can hit them. Hence they get a 4+ save similar to as if they were dodging incoming fire.

Shock Attak – The squadron turns on huge speakers as they launch their attack and have Mob Rulez by Black Sabbath roaring out at full volume. The enemy must pass a reliability (R) test in their first turn, or suffer -1 FS and -1 SS for that turn.

Can carry 10 Orks as passengers

Brain Storma – 100 points + weapons, equipment and skills

M	FS	SS	S	T	W	A	R
6	3	3	4	4	3	3	9

 

Brain Storma is the leader of the Choppaz

May add 1 point to 2 stats. EG you could give him an extra attack and a R of 10

May have up to 2 skills

Brain Storma may take equipment from the character equipment at an extra cost.

Frenzy – he is so protective over his babies that he gets double attacks when he charges.

Sneak – 50 points + weapons, equipment and skills

M	FS	SS	S	T	W	A	R
6	3	3	4	4	2	2	8

 

May add 1 point to 2 stats. EG you could give him an extra attack and a R of 9

May have up to 2 skills

Sneak may take equipment from the character equipment at an extra cost.

Da Choppaz – 15 points + weapons, equipment and skills

M	FS	SS	S	T	W	A	R
6	3	4	3	3	1	1	8

You may add 1 to a single stat EG you could give them an extra attack.

May have a Save of 4+. This can be invulnerable. May have powered body armour

May have up to 1 skill

May have a single handed close combat weapon, grenades and demo charges

Each figure may also have portable weapons such as LMG's, flamethrowers

1 Ork from each unit of 10 may upgrade to sniper

Sniper – 30 points + any equipment and extra weapons.

M	FS	SS	S	T	W	A	R
6	4	3	3	3	1	1	8

Has a sniper rifle and a telescopic sight (included in points cost)

May have a close combat weapon and grenades

May have armour with a total save of no more than 6. EG a flak jacket. They may not have a shield.

Snipers ignore SS penalties for being at over ½ range

If a sniper can see any part of a target, they may fire at it without any cover saves applying.

Snipers always operate on their own.

Snipers may infiltrate. See infiltrate in the main rules.

 

 

 

The main rules for aeroplanes are covered in the Aces High appendix which is included in the Overkill rules set and is available from www.1poundrules.website   All rules sets on the site cost £1 each.

Revell produces an excellent 1:48 scale Huey that is suitable for use with 25-30mm figures.

Competition Time!

OK! It's the moment you've all been waiting for!:) The competition where you can win a copy of my Roadkill rules set. These rules are inspired by the 1975 cult film Death Race 2000 and all you have to do to be in with a chance is to answer two simple questions.

1 – Who played Frankenstein in the original 1975 version of Death Race 2000?

2 – Your answer from question one also starred in a TV series that ran from 1972 until 1975 and featured a lot of Chinese marshal arts. (At least, they should have done if you got No 1 right) What was the name of the TV series?

Now simply email your answers to me at 1poundrules@gmail.com and the first five, maybe a few more if I'm feeling generous, lucky people will get their rules as soon as I'm back from holiday. Sometime around the end of June.  Please put competition in the subject, thanks.

GOOD LUCK!

 

Don't forget that all of my rules are available from  www.1poundrules.website  and only cost £1 each!

Free paving download

 

As with the post on concrete walls, if you print this off on A4 the paving is (hopefully) suitable for use with 25-30mm figures.  Hope someone finds this useful.

     Don't forget, I have some sets of rules for sale at www.1poundrules.website  and each set only costs £1.



Snap Shot, a skills update for the Fallen Angels scifi rules

As the title says, this is an update to the skills information for my Fallen Angels skirmish rules.

Snap Shot – 5 points

A figure with this skill can use it in two ways:

1 – If an enemy moves from cover to cover, or into cover from the open, the shooter may fire at them with a -1 SS penalty even if the target is in cover at the end of their turn. The usual penalty for firing at a moving target does not apply.

EG an enemy fires their weapon while in the open, then moves into cover. The shooter may fire at them as if they are in the open. This costs 1 AP.

2 – If the shooter is in cover, they may use snap shot to raise their head above the cover, (if this is possible and gives them line of sight to their target) fire their weapon at -1 SS, then duck back into cover. This costs 2 AP's.

 

All of my rules are available at www.1poundrules.website and cost £1 each.