M
Matt_Mulder
Guest
Hello guys.
First of all sorry about my spelling and grammar mistakes.
I like creating maps, and sometimes when I'm really patient, I set up forces and AI plans.
Well, since I lost my big custom maps folder when my previous OS crashed, I have to start all over again, hopefully I will get your feedback, whether you're experienced with scenario creation or not.
The scenario will be : a German defense scenario, with plans for the US A.I. but possibly played in H2H ( testers welcome by the way )
I thought I'd type some kind of introduction for this, since I hate scenarios with little, simplistic objectives. Screenshots of the finished map will follow in the next couple of days.
Hauptmann Maier finished his meal. Not that he was very hungry in the first place, but his experience in the Eastern Front taught him that no meal should be postponed. The C-ration was good, much better than the shitty average German food. The Americans had an extensive range of food supplies, and most of their drops fell in German hands since the battlefield dynamics were constantly changing for the last couple of weeks, allowing
German soldiers to change their routine a little.
They were a few kilometers away from Caen, according to the map, when the convoy was strafed and then bombed by the feared Jabos, around 7p.m. The whole company spread out in all directions as machine gun fire and the whistling of bombs turned their formation into a mess. This was soon followed by an armored recon spearhead from the West, which was quickly fought off by a couple of Panzers hidden in the woods. The others were not serviceable, too damaged or burning along the road, surrounded by dead comrades lying in ditches or on the road itself where they were slain by the enemy strafing.
The last few hours had been hectic. Communications with HQ were not possible because the kubelwagen carrying the material was shot up with its crew. A young private offered to use one of the surviving motorcycles to ride to the HQ 10 miles away and ask for orders. Maier had given him a piece of paper with the words ‘ 5 . Kompanie attacked by bombers on the road to Caen. Heavy casualties. Radio destroyed. Requesting orders. Hauptmann Hermann Maier. ‘
The young boy came back at around 10p.m with terrible news. The Amis had advanced virtually unopposed up to 3 miles from their positions, and were probably dug in for the night. Major Grendel was dead and had been replaced by Major Braumann, unknown to Maier. Oberst Kramer had probably a bloody mess on his hands, and the orders from OKW were probably urging him to counterattack with all available forces, as usual. The orders were simple and direct ‘ Major Braumann to Hauptmann Maier, 5.Kompanie : advance along the Caen road and take up positions near St Lambert . Defend at all costs and wait for reinforcements from 4.Kompanie and 2.PanzerKompanie.’
Rommel was right, the leadership of Germany has lost touch with reality. St Lambert was 5 miles away, literally behind enemy lines. The Americans were killing them from the air while the Luftwaffe was nowhere to be seen, forcing German troops to move at night or when bad weather grounded the enemy planes. Their logistical abilities were almost infinite, constantly sending in reinforcements from England whenever casualties occurred. Unless the 15th Army was authorized to come quickly at their rescue, the whole of Normandy and Brittany were lost. All their officers were doing was putting nice faces for the OKW and hiding the grim truth. The whole western front was doomed.
Maier lit one of the Lucky Strikes his men gave him, taken from a dead enemy paratrooper. Their tobacco was alright, much better than the ersatz he had earlier in the campaign, when he was supposed to send the Americans back to the sea. The night was pretty cold and cloudy, and the 100-meter parallel hedgerow his troops were occupying next to the road was quiet. The Kompanie was reduced to around sixty men, supported by two panzers and 2 halftracks. The men were probably too tired or too frightened to take on the enemy forces as requested, but Maier couldn’t send them to their death. He was capable of fighting, yes, but sending his own demoralized platoons to die was not possible. He knew that should he survive the war, he would live with their screams of agony, their distorted faces, their bloodied uniforms and torn limbs. When the fighter-bombers left earlier, what he saw reminded him of the horrors he witnessed in Kharkov. A field full of dead or dying soldiers, some shell-shocked men wandering around helplessly, the smell of burnt flesh and metal , the irritating smoke…All he had left was a fifth of his original Kompanie, and what was remaining of the panzer platoon, those which fought off the American advance earlier. Their ammo was blown up when the first Jabo dropped his load, disintegrating the whole of first platoon. Earlier he saw a couple of body parts hanging in the half-burnt trees, when he was gathering the survivors and reforming his command. Morale was pretty low, even though offizier Pfiltz and Dittrich survived and were promoted de facto platoon leaders. Having been through officer school with them, Maier felt a little better knowing his two friends survived the slaughter. But for how long ?
It was 11 p.m. Most of the soldiers were dug-in in a few holes along the bocage, not visible for the unaware enemy recon squads which should probably be there in the morning. The panzers crew were resting and eating with the men after having spent a while camouflaging the tanks in the wooden area. They were not supposed to wander that far from their positions, but it was unlikely they would see any action before morning. They had seen their comrades melted in their tanks today, they could use some time-off.
In the distance, everyone could hear some explosions, probably in or around Caen, which was said to be defended fanatically by the kids from 12.SS Hitlerjugend. Poor kids, Maier thought. Brainwashed into killing for a man they never met, for ideals they were too young to comprehend. Incredibly enough, those teenagers were slaughtering the Allies in the devastated city. His own son was 12, how long before he was sent to the Sunday drills to receive military instruction? This thought scared him. He had finished his cigarette. Hubner, his second in command, approached him with one of his, gesturing to get a lighter. As he was a couple of meters away, a shot coming from the treeline whistled in Maier’s ears and hit him. He fell like a puppet, face down in the damp field.
Immediately, the Kompanie's positions were shot at from multiple directions. A hell of a firefight had erupted in the night. The Amis were already here !
Lying beside his dead comrade and grabbing his pistol, Hermann Maier thought to himself that he probably just had the last cigarette of his life.
First of all sorry about my spelling and grammar mistakes.
I like creating maps, and sometimes when I'm really patient, I set up forces and AI plans.
Well, since I lost my big custom maps folder when my previous OS crashed, I have to start all over again, hopefully I will get your feedback, whether you're experienced with scenario creation or not.
The scenario will be : a German defense scenario, with plans for the US A.I. but possibly played in H2H ( testers welcome by the way )
I thought I'd type some kind of introduction for this, since I hate scenarios with little, simplistic objectives. Screenshots of the finished map will follow in the next couple of days.
Hauptmann Maier finished his meal. Not that he was very hungry in the first place, but his experience in the Eastern Front taught him that no meal should be postponed. The C-ration was good, much better than the shitty average German food. The Americans had an extensive range of food supplies, and most of their drops fell in German hands since the battlefield dynamics were constantly changing for the last couple of weeks, allowing
German soldiers to change their routine a little.
They were a few kilometers away from Caen, according to the map, when the convoy was strafed and then bombed by the feared Jabos, around 7p.m. The whole company spread out in all directions as machine gun fire and the whistling of bombs turned their formation into a mess. This was soon followed by an armored recon spearhead from the West, which was quickly fought off by a couple of Panzers hidden in the woods. The others were not serviceable, too damaged or burning along the road, surrounded by dead comrades lying in ditches or on the road itself where they were slain by the enemy strafing.
The last few hours had been hectic. Communications with HQ were not possible because the kubelwagen carrying the material was shot up with its crew. A young private offered to use one of the surviving motorcycles to ride to the HQ 10 miles away and ask for orders. Maier had given him a piece of paper with the words ‘ 5 . Kompanie attacked by bombers on the road to Caen. Heavy casualties. Radio destroyed. Requesting orders. Hauptmann Hermann Maier. ‘
The young boy came back at around 10p.m with terrible news. The Amis had advanced virtually unopposed up to 3 miles from their positions, and were probably dug in for the night. Major Grendel was dead and had been replaced by Major Braumann, unknown to Maier. Oberst Kramer had probably a bloody mess on his hands, and the orders from OKW were probably urging him to counterattack with all available forces, as usual. The orders were simple and direct ‘ Major Braumann to Hauptmann Maier, 5.Kompanie : advance along the Caen road and take up positions near St Lambert . Defend at all costs and wait for reinforcements from 4.Kompanie and 2.PanzerKompanie.’
Rommel was right, the leadership of Germany has lost touch with reality. St Lambert was 5 miles away, literally behind enemy lines. The Americans were killing them from the air while the Luftwaffe was nowhere to be seen, forcing German troops to move at night or when bad weather grounded the enemy planes. Their logistical abilities were almost infinite, constantly sending in reinforcements from England whenever casualties occurred. Unless the 15th Army was authorized to come quickly at their rescue, the whole of Normandy and Brittany were lost. All their officers were doing was putting nice faces for the OKW and hiding the grim truth. The whole western front was doomed.
Maier lit one of the Lucky Strikes his men gave him, taken from a dead enemy paratrooper. Their tobacco was alright, much better than the ersatz he had earlier in the campaign, when he was supposed to send the Americans back to the sea. The night was pretty cold and cloudy, and the 100-meter parallel hedgerow his troops were occupying next to the road was quiet. The Kompanie was reduced to around sixty men, supported by two panzers and 2 halftracks. The men were probably too tired or too frightened to take on the enemy forces as requested, but Maier couldn’t send them to their death. He was capable of fighting, yes, but sending his own demoralized platoons to die was not possible. He knew that should he survive the war, he would live with their screams of agony, their distorted faces, their bloodied uniforms and torn limbs. When the fighter-bombers left earlier, what he saw reminded him of the horrors he witnessed in Kharkov. A field full of dead or dying soldiers, some shell-shocked men wandering around helplessly, the smell of burnt flesh and metal , the irritating smoke…All he had left was a fifth of his original Kompanie, and what was remaining of the panzer platoon, those which fought off the American advance earlier. Their ammo was blown up when the first Jabo dropped his load, disintegrating the whole of first platoon. Earlier he saw a couple of body parts hanging in the half-burnt trees, when he was gathering the survivors and reforming his command. Morale was pretty low, even though offizier Pfiltz and Dittrich survived and were promoted de facto platoon leaders. Having been through officer school with them, Maier felt a little better knowing his two friends survived the slaughter. But for how long ?
It was 11 p.m. Most of the soldiers were dug-in in a few holes along the bocage, not visible for the unaware enemy recon squads which should probably be there in the morning. The panzers crew were resting and eating with the men after having spent a while camouflaging the tanks in the wooden area. They were not supposed to wander that far from their positions, but it was unlikely they would see any action before morning. They had seen their comrades melted in their tanks today, they could use some time-off.
In the distance, everyone could hear some explosions, probably in or around Caen, which was said to be defended fanatically by the kids from 12.SS Hitlerjugend. Poor kids, Maier thought. Brainwashed into killing for a man they never met, for ideals they were too young to comprehend. Incredibly enough, those teenagers were slaughtering the Allies in the devastated city. His own son was 12, how long before he was sent to the Sunday drills to receive military instruction? This thought scared him. He had finished his cigarette. Hubner, his second in command, approached him with one of his, gesturing to get a lighter. As he was a couple of meters away, a shot coming from the treeline whistled in Maier’s ears and hit him. He fell like a puppet, face down in the damp field.
Immediately, the Kompanie's positions were shot at from multiple directions. A hell of a firefight had erupted in the night. The Amis were already here !
Lying beside his dead comrade and grabbing his pistol, Hermann Maier thought to himself that he probably just had the last cigarette of his life.
