The Adventures of Leiter von Flammen and Mannfred von Mann, Soldiers of the Third Reich
The Adventures of Leiter von Flammen and Mannfred von Mann, Soldiers of the Third Reich details the exploits of a pair of heroic Wehrmacht soldiers as they do battle with the Allies on the Western Front. The titular characters, von Flammen and von Mann, are armed with a flamethrower and an MG42 machinegun respectively, and prefer to ride into battle mounted on a high-performance motorcycle with a sidecar.
Von Flammen and von Mann were created from a stat me thread where the OP's image depicted a goggle-wearing Nazi soldier who may or may not have had flamethrower tanks strapped to his back (in all likelihood, they were actually components of a field radio). The thread is archived here, and contains the first part of the story.
"Scheiße! Ze Americana outnumber us! Ve are doomed!" screamed Hauptmann Stumm, hiding behind the remains of his once proud Panzer IV. A direct hit at close range from a camouflaged Sherman sporting one of the Americans' new 75mm guns had penetrated the steel armour he had once thought impervious to all enemy fire, and he had barely time to scramble from the turret hatch and hunker behind the vehicle before the Americans had opened up with their small arms and turned half his unit into Swiss cheese.
"Scheiße!" he shouted again. The sound of the .30 cal machine guns rendered him inaudible to the few remaining German soldiers, making any coherent defense impossible. Taking a deep breath, Stumm gripped his Luger and prepared to peer round the corner of the immobilised tank, but before he could do so, he was surprised by the sight of an American trooper who had used the cover of the machine gun's roar to sneak up on him.
"Fuckin' freeze, Fritz!" the trooper screamed in Stumm's face, and the Hauptmann was surprised enough to drop his pistol.
"Hey, nice alliteration there, Williams," said another of the American soldiers, coming round the other side of the tank. With a start, Stumm realised the machine guns had stopped firing; all resistance had been crushed. He and the few surviving soldiers were now entirely at the mercy of the Allied troops.
"Alright, Sarge, you think this guy speaks English?" the first trooper asked.
"JA!" Stumm shouted. "Uh, I mean, yes, I speak Eenglisch! We surrender!"
"Thought you might, you Nazi scum. Strip him of his weapons and - wait, do you hear that?" the American officer paused and turned to stare at one of the hedges that dominated the Normandy countryside. "Sounds like a-"
Suddenly, the hedge erupted into bright flame, blinding the hapless Americans momentarily with its light. The rumbling sound of a two-stroke engine could just be heard over the crackle and pop of burning wood.
"WHAT THE FU-" the trooper called Williams began, when through the burning hedge burst a motorcycle moving at a truly impressive velocity. Atop the bike sat a grinning, begoggled spectre in a flame-retardant leather jacket, and in the sidecar there was a hulking monster sporting rock-hard stubble and a fully loaded MG42.
"ZE CAVALRY HAVE ARRIVED!" shouted the goggled German, and his muscular comrade announced their arrival with a hail of 7.92mm rounds. The two American troopers were riddled with bullets before they could even begin to return fire, and fell lifeless to the ground in front of the stranded Hauptmann.
Before he could even begin to properly take stock of the situation, the motorcycle came squealing to a halt in front of him, and the goggled man - who Stumm now noticed was carrying a pressurized tank of fuel on his back - reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a set of papers.
"Zhese are mein transfer papers, Hauptmann," announced the man. "I was sent here from ze Eastern Front. It appears zat I have arrived just in time."
"From - from ze Eastern Front!? But zhese papers are dated only two days ago!" Stumm stammered.
"Indeed," said the man. "Ve have ridden very hard. My name is Leiter von Flammen. Now, if you vill excuse me, zhere are Americana who are still alive."
With that, von Flammen unslung the flammenwerfer's nozzle and revved the throttle of the motorcycle with his other hand, then changed gear and sped round the side of the tank with his flamethrower blazing. Hauptmann Stumm was left to stare dumbfounded at the papers he had been handed. His unit was now the proud owner of soldiers Leiter von Flammen and Mannfred von Mann, two of the deadliest soldiers ever to see battle on the Eastern Front.
"Thank ze Fuhrer!" Stumm shouted, as American screams and the scent of roasting flesh began to permeate the air. "Ve are saved!"
By the close of the day, Stumm's remaining soldiers were carrying the bodies of dead Americans to a nearby ditch as von Flammen refuelled his flamethrower from a tank stored in the back of his motorcycle's sidecar, preparing to torch those of the corpses that had not already been charred beyond all recognition. Mannfred sat on a log behind him, changing the barrel of his MG42 in preparation for whatever combat the next day might bring.
"You know, Leiter, zhere are not nearly as many of ze Americana as zhere are ze Russians," he said morosely.
"Indeed, mein friend," replied von Flammen. "It vas quite disappointing. And zhey lost ze vill to fight so soon. Having to chase zhem down is simply a chore. At least ze Russians never retreated, even in ze face of my flames."
"I do not understand how our soldiers here on ze Vestern Front are having so much trouble with ze Americana, Leiter."
"Ah, vell. Having trouble zhey are, so here are ve. Ze Fuhrer himself has ordered our transfer, mein friend, and we must obey."
"You are right, Leiter. I am sure ze Fuhrer's judgment is correct. He is, after all, a brilliant tactical genius."
"Truer vords have never been spoken, mein friend," replied von Flammen. "Ah, Hauptmann Stumm. Vhat can ve be doing for you?" he continued, as the Hauptmann approached.
"On behalf of my men, I offer you our sincere zhanks for coming to ze rescue of my unit," began Stumm. "But I have to ask vhy you have set zhose plates along the wall zhere."
Stumm gestured at a half demolished section of a nearby low wall, upon which von Flammen had carefully placed several plates.
"Ah!" von Flammen said, chuckling. "I am glad you have asked. Mannfred!"
At this, Mannfred reached into the depths of jacket and pulled forth several small objects, sending them flying through the air. Simultaneously, von Flammen let loose a burst from his now refuelled flamethrower, scorching the items as they travelled through the air, before each landed perfectly atop a plate.
Now motionless, Hauptmann could identify them as fine beef burgers, grilled to perfection by their passage through the flames. The remaining soldiers had turned to witness the spectacle, and now the delicious smell of the beef wafted through the air to their nostrils, overpowering the stench of the burnt human corpses.
"Ve heard zhings vere going a little badly for you boys over here," said von Flammen, "so ve picked zhese up on zer vay to raise morale."
The ravenous and battleworn soldiers immediately charged for the defenceless burgers and consumed them. Von Flammen could see their disheartened expressions transform into grins of happiness as they chewed.
"By ze Fuhrer, von Flammen, I have never zeen zhese men so cheerful! Truly, your skill at cooking burgers is incredible!" Stumm said.
"Ah, but of course, Hauptmann Stumm," laughed von Flammen. "Before ze var started, I used to be a cook."
Thus concludes part one of The Adventures of Leiter von Flammen and Mannfred von Mann, Soldiers of the Third Reich.
After a night of well-earned rest, day broke to find Hauptmann Stumm's unit discussing plans for an impending battle. Before stumbling into the disastrous allied ambush, the men had been tasked with a destroying an American forward supply dump - for any other unit reduced to less than half strength and with their tank support rendered useless, surely an impossible feat! But Stumm's soldiers were bolstered by delicious burgers and the knowledge that the two finest soldiers from the Easter Front - and possibly of the entire Reich - were with them, and they knew they could not fail.
"Ze American encampment is here," said Hauptmann Stumm, scratching out designs in the dust of the road with a stick. "Ve vill use a 'Hammer and Anvil' strategy to defeat zhem utterly."
"Hammer and anvil, Hauptmann? But our tank is destroyed! Vhat exactly are you suggestink?" demanded one of the soldiers.
"The tank is destroyed? Pah!" scoffed Stumm. "Ve have ze finest soldiers of ze Reich and a motorcycle at our disposal. Ze loss of ze Panzer is a mere inconvenience."
Von Flammen raised an eyebrow (a somewhat fruitless action, since his ever-present goggles obscured the other soldiers' view of his face) and said "If I am correct, Hauptmann, you vish me and Mannfred to circle around ze encampment using ze motorcycle while you distract ze American sentries from a safe location, allowing us to take zhem by surprise from behind?"
"Zhat is exactly correct!" exclaimed Stumm, pleased that the new additions to his unit had grasped his plan so quickly. "Zhey vill never know vhat has hit zhem."
"It is an excellent plann, Hauptmann Stumm," von Flammen said. "We must endeavour to implement it vith all possible speed. Mannfred! To ze motorcycle!"
With that, Mannfred leapt into the sidecar of the motorcycle and loaded a fresh belt of 7.92mm ammunition into his MG42, while von Flammen sat atop the motorbike and adjusted his leather gloves.
"Ve shall strike zhem in exactly one hour," announced von Flammen. "I hope you vill be in position by zhat time." Before any of the other soldiers could interrupt, he noisily revved the motorcycle into life and sped off down the road at a tangent to the encampment.
"... vell, men, ve had better get moving! Quickly now, march, march!" shouted Hauptmann Stumm, and his retinue immediately gathered up their possessions and set to marching off towards the encampment.
Meanwhile, the roundabout route von Flammen was taking had led the Reich's finest into a quaint French hamlet that appeared deserted. Both Mannfred and von Flammen kept their well-trained eyes checking for any signs of ambushers waiting amongst the quiet houses, when all of a sudden, a great explosion sounded, and von Flammen found himself involuntarily detached from his motorcycle.
"A land mine!" he shouted as he sailed through the air. "Curse ze Americana!" He landed and rolled gracefully, coming back up to his feet as pieces of the bike scattered themselves across the road behind him.
"Leiter!" he heard Mannfred's voice shout. "Are you alright, mein friend?"
"Ja," replied von Flammen, "I am unhurt. Are you vell?"
"Fine, fine," said Mannfred, appearing round the corner of one of the buildings, "but zhat explosion threw me a bit far. And I fear ve have lost your reserve fuel tank for ze flammenwerfer."
"Indeed! Ve shall simply have to be economical with our limited supplies. Ah! If ve are to be in position in time for ze attack, ve must make haste! Are you up for a jog, Mannfred?" asked von Flammen.
"Indeed, Leite- LOOK OUT!" exclaimed Mannfred, for he had just seen rising from behind a wall at the side of the road a monstrously muscular American soldier, holding a tubular M9 Bazooka in each of his hands.
"Chew on this, you Nazi scum!" yelled the American, firing both his rockets are the pair. The first sailed harmlessly clear of the soldiers and succeeded in harming nothing but an innocent cottage, but the course of the second was true, and Mannfred could tell that if it was allowed to strike, Leiter might be seriously injured.
"NEIN!" he yelled, leaping forward heroically to defense of his flamethrowering friend. The gloating expression on the American's face turned to horror as Mannfred's jump placed his stubbled chin squarely in the path of the oncoming explosive.
With a loud bang and a cloud of smoke, the rocket made contact with Mannfred's chin, leaving the brave soldier sprawled upon the ground in a daze.
"One down!" grunted the monstrous Ranger, making to reload his Bazookas.
"I am afraid not!" replied von Flammen, in perfect English. "The chin of my compatriot has been used to crack open a T34. It will take more than one of your mere bazookas to bring him down."
Right on cue, Mannfred struggled back up to his feet, shook his head to clear himself of the daze, and brought his MG42 to bear on the American.
"Wh- what- you guys ain't human!" the American stammered.
"But of course! We are more than human, my dear enemy," replied von Flammen. "We are the finest of the Aryan race. Mannfred! Open fire!"
Mannfred eagerly complied with the command, unleashing a hail of lead that prevented the hapless American from ever finishing his attempt to reload the bazookas.
"Very vell," said von Flammen, switching seamlessly back to German. "Zhat takes care of zhat. Let us be off!"
Mannfred and von Flammen set off at a speedy jog that quickly covered the remaining ground between them and their required position; though hindered slightly by the loss of their motorcycle, on foot they were able to take shortcuts through the trees and ditches of the countryside and arrived behind the American encampment just in time for the attack to begin.
"You cover me vith ze MG42," said von Flammen, as they spied upon the oblivious Americans from a nearby copse of trees, "and I shall advance forward and set their supplies alight. I fear zhat may be all I can accomplish vith ze fuel I have remaining."
"Do not worry, Leiter," Mannfred reassured him. "I have more zhan enough ammunition to kill every last Americana in ze camp. And ve have our allies on ze other side, too."
"Ah yes," agreed von Flammen. "I had almost forgot." He brought the nozzle of the flammenwerfer to bear and waited for the sounds of combat to begin from the other side of the encampment.
He had waited no more than perhaps a minute when the familiar sound of K98Ks and MP40s firing provided the distraction he needed to close with the encampment. "Right on time!" von Flammen cheered happily, and broken into a sprint towards the surprised allies, 7.92mm rounds flying over his head and decimating what little resistance the sentries could have offered.
With a maniacal grin and a jet of flame, von Flammen quickly set the stacks of munitions and supplies stockpiled by the American forces alight, while the pitiful American soldiers themselves were obliterated in the crossfire between the remnants of Hauptmann Stumm's unit and Mannfred's deadly MG42.
"Zhis is just like vhen zhey let us take our vacation at Auschwitz!" yelled von Flammen, covering all in his path with scorching flames. The sudden bangs and small explosions coming from the stockpiled supplies alerted him that the munitions contained therein were reaching flashpoint temperature.
"I had best be leaving," he muttered, and set off back towards Mannfred, trusting his longtime companion to ensure that no cowardly American would get a chance to shoot him in the back as he withdrew. He had just made it clear of the encampment when something truly massive exploded within the stockpiled weaponry - 105mm Howitzer shells, he guessed - turning what used to be a well fortified American position into a smoking crater. Blood and body parts fell from the sky like mist and rain, bouncing off von Flammen's helmet, and he had to wipe his goggles clear of the red spray many times.
"Ah, Leiter! Truly we have dealt a great blow to the Americana today!" cheered Mannfred, as von Flammen jogged back to his position. "I don't zhink I have seen a display of destruction so impressive since you set alight zhat entire veapons factory back in Stalingrad!"
"Ah, yes, zhat I remember!" chortled von Flammen. "Did you know zhat zhey found pieces of ze Russians as far away as Poland on zhat day? Now ZHAT vas an explosion!"
Von Flammen turned to survey the destruction he had wrought, and sighted Hauptmann Stumm waving energetically at them from the other side of the crater.
"Ah, Hauptmann Stumm appears to have survived unscathed! I am most glad! Let us go and regroup, Mannfred, and share our joy with our fellow soldiers."
Mannfred grunted his agreement and slung the MG42 onto his back. With their mission accomplished, it was time to celebrate; soon, Hauptmann Stumm would reveal to them the details of their next objective, but no leader would deny them the right to cheer over their victory for now.
The unit reunited and celebrations over, Hauptmann Stumm was quick to give his soldiers their new orders. Though, indeed, they had managed to successfully complete the mission objective they had originally been assigned - to destroy the Allied supply point - they had taken heavy losses getting there, including the loss of a fine Panzer IV. Even though the tank was now immobplised, the Hauptmann believed it could be successfully salvaged, and had radioed in for the report of a repair squad.
"Zhe pioneers should be arriving vizhin a day or zwei," Stumm said to his assembled men. "Ve shall return to ze Panzer and prevent any vandering Americana from getting to it first."
"A very wise decision," approved von Flammen. Too many times, in the dangerous chaos of the Eastern front, had he and Mannfred been called upon to face German tanks in combat, abandoned and looted by the opportunistic Russians. Although Mannfred did not experience any physical pain when employing his impressive jaw against them, tears nevertheless fell from his perfectly blue eyes every time he had been forced to destroy such a tank.
The rest of Stumm's unit was likewise grateful for the orders. It seemed certain that every American soldier in the region had been soundly defeated in their devastating attack, and a couple of day's rest and relaxation on guard duty would be a welcome change.
"Vell zhen, ve go!" commanded the Hauptmann, and obediently the soldiers began the march back to their stranded Panzer.
"But, but, von Flammen, sir," began one of Stumm's men, who von Flammen recognised as Blick, "Vhat happened to your motorcycle?"
"Ah yes, zhat," said von Flammen, continuing to march along. "Unfortunately, mein friend, ve vere surprised by a land mine and attacked by an Americana ranger."
"A Ranger!" said the other soldier in surprise. "I have heard zhey are ze Allies' most dangerous soldiers!"
"Ja," agreed Mannfred, who was marching alongside von Flammen. "He vas a bit tough."
It was not long before the battleworn men relocated the Panzer and began to settle down for a long wait. Von Flammen began to assemble a small firepit over which he intended to cook a refreshing dinner for the soldiers, and Mannfred set off into the countryside to find some appropriate animals for the meal.
No sooner had von Flammen finished the construction of his firepit than Mannfred returned, carrying a slightly bloodied cow on each shoulder. The men turned and gasped at this impressive spectacle as Mannfred jogged back into camp.
Von Flammen looked at the dead bovines with a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Mein friend," he began, "I zhink I am going to need a bigger pit." Mannfred let out a hearty guffaw at his old compatriot's joke, but was rudely interrupted by the sudden sound of a scream.
"By ze Fuhrer!" shouted von Flammen in surprise, as they turned to look at the source of the scream. The unfortunate Blick had been propelled through the air by a mighty blow from a fist they both recognised.
"ZE RANGER!" Mannfred and von Flammen shouted in unison. Indeed, the foe they had previously thought vanquished by Mannfred's MG42 had returned, perforated and bleeding but apparently unhindered. The monstrous American had disregarded his bazookas and instead seemed intent on engaging Stumm's unit with nothing but his meaty fists.
"Let us see how vell he stands up to ZHIS!" grinned von Flammen, and brought his flammenwerfer to bear on the target as the rest of the squad scrambled to pick up their weapons. A gout of flame shot forth and engulfed the Ranger, setting him alight.
However, far from defeating the adversary, if anything the flames only appeared to make him even angrier than he was before. Cries of incoherent rage sounded from the burning American as he charged for von Flammen.
Once more, however, Mannfred would not stand to see his friend harmed. Letting the cows tumble from his shoulders to the ground, the brave soldier leapt forward, chin thrust ahead, to meet the American's blows. The world seemed to move in slow motion to von Flammen as the Ranger's fist collided with Mannfred's mighty jaw, and he was not sure which would prove the strongest.
A resounding crack filled the area as the onlookers stared on in shock. Mannfred stood proud, his chin absorbing the strength of the blow, while the American ranger prepared to make a swing with his other burning fist.
"Mannfred!" yelled von Flammen. "Keep him busy!"
Mannfred grinned and once more brought his stubbled chin to bear, ready to take another blow. He knew that von Flammen had a plan that would allow them to defeat this bastard American once and for all.
Time and time again, the flaming Ranger delivered mighty blows with his fists, and every time Mannfred stopped the attacks with his even mightier chin. The soldiers watching the spectacle cheered in support for Mannfred and laughed as the Ranger began to tire of his attack, his strikes becoming more infrequent and less powerful. Even poor Blick, who had taken a full on strike from the Ranger, had given up on trying to figure out how many ribs he had broken and offered support to Mannfred from his position lying on the ground next to the road.
Von Flammen's voice once again sounded out clearly. "Mannfred!" he yelled, "Duck!"
The rest of the soldiers turned to look at the source of the voice while Mannfred threw himself to the ground, trusting completely in von Flammen's judgment. The American Ranger was surprised as his last blow met nothing but empty air, and even more surprised when he realised that a Panzer IV tank was directly ahead of him and aiming its main gun directly at him.
Unbeknownst to the American and the cheering soldiers, von Flammen and Hauptmann Stumm had set to work aiming the barrel of the Panzer using nothing but their own muscles while Mannfred distracted and tired the Ranger.
"FIRE!" yelled Stumm happily, and pulled a lever inside the tank's hatch. The resounding boom of the cannon deafened the occupants of the area, and the unfortunate American was too tired by his fight with Mannfred to even attempt to dodge. He barely had a chance to scream as the tank shell penetrated his muscular chest and exploded, showering the Wehrmacht unit with gore.
"By ze Fuhrer," said Mannfred, looking up from the ground at the smoking pair of legs standing before him, "zhat vas unexpected."
"I believe zhat zhey teach ze Americana Rangers to 'expect ze unexpected', or somezhing along zhose lines," said von Flammen with a chuckle. "Evidently he did not pay very much attention in zhese classes. Someone should probably see to Herr Blick over zhere, by ze vay."
The rest of the soldiers ran over to help Blick struggle to his feet, as Mannfred slowly climbed to his own feet and went to join von Flammen and the Hauptmann.
"Zhat vas a very good idea, using ze Panzer like zhat," said Mannfred. "Vell done, Leiter."
"Actually, it vas not my idea, mein friend," corrected von Flammen. "Hauptmann Stumm thought of it. I must confess, using ze Panzer in such a fashion vas a zhought zhat never crossed mein mind."
Stumm seemed to practically glow with pride at receiving this praise from a hero of the Reich. "Vell, ja, a commanding officer is trained to use every resource available," he explained, as if it were nothing. "I simply chose ze best course of action."
- http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/1917480/ - suptg archive of the first thread, containing origins and Part 1/2
- http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/1927127/ - suptg archive of the second thread, containing Part 3 and promises to write more that were never delivered on.