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I gave him a disheveled rabble. In a very short time, he had organised a division of 11,000 men.
Adolf Hitler, on Göring's organization of the SA

The Sturmabteilung or SA has its origins in 1920, when Adolf Hitler was giving a speech at a brewery, and several protesters who didn't want the rally to take place, where sent "flying down the stairs with gashes on their heads" by Hitler's army friends, who were armed with mainly truncheons. That was the birth of the SA Organization. Originally made up of Ex-soldiers and beer hall brawlers, their main job was to stop Social Democrats and Communists from interrupting party meetings. Two units were originally born from the SA: the Hitler Youth, originally called the Jugendbund; and the Schutzstaffel (SS), were originally branches of the SA. They earned the name Brownshirts from their brown uniforms, which were leftover from WWI German African Troops.

Hitler feared the growing power of the SA, which was aiming to replace the normal German Army. On 30 June, 1934, Ernst Rohm (head of the SA) and 200 other senior SA officers were arrested, and between 100-150 of them were killed, including Ernst Rohm. Even though mainly existing on paper after the murder of many of their leaders, attacks on Jews in the '30s escalated, many of those terrorism acts perpetrated by the SA. They beat many Jews to death and arrested 30,000 more over the course of all actions.

When WWII began, most of the remaining SA members joined the Wehrmacht. Just like there were SS Combat Units, a plan went through to create a SA combat unit, which was formed as the Panzer Corps Feldherrnhalle in 1944. They saw action on the Eastern Front.

Battle vs.Blackshirts (by LB&SCR)[]

Six Brownshirts are slowly walking their way through a town. Their great leader was out giving another grandoise speech, one they would be listening to under normal circumstances. Then, an informant had come around, and reported that six armed men wearing black had been seen coming in the general direction of the meeting. Thinking that they were an opposing party coming to disrupt a meeting, the six of them had been sent out to go and put a stop to them before they could reach the meeting.

The group had yet to enter town, and so the head Brownshirt, armed with an MP35 and a Walther in it's holster strapped to his form, had ordered his five men to set up positions to open fire upon the enemy upon seing them. Himself and two others armed with MP's were still in the open road, hiding behind boxes, crates, whatever they could find. Two men with Kar98k's were taking cover in an empty building, aiming there rifles out two of the windows. The sixth man, who had stumbled upon an MG34, had also set it up in the building, the reason being three others could provide cover fire if need be. They then awaited the arrival of the other party.

- - - - - - - - 

Six Blackshirts were walking through a grassy area, laughing, talking, and joking with each other. They were relatively lost, but after a bit of questioning, they had recieved directions as of how to get back upon the right path. The town ahead had been given in the verbal directions they had recieved, so they were in high spirits. Once there, they'd ask around somemore and see if they were still correct in the way to go.

As they got closer to the town, the head Blackshirt, armed with a Beretta SMG and a Beretta sidearm, motioned for his men to stop. Everything had gotten strangely quiet, and he was becoming quite suspicious as of why the noise had suddenly disappeared as if instantly. After some quick thinking, he ordered his men forward again, only this time they were on their toes. Something was definately going on, and he didn't like it one bit.

His suspicions would prove correct, as soon as they'd entered the town, a man in a brown uniform and armed with an SMG lept out from behind a crate and started yelling at them in some language that neither he nor his men understood. The tone of voice was aggressive though, and the guy appeared fully prepared to start spraying rounds in their direction. 

- - - - - - - - -

Brownshirts: Brown Brown Brown Brown Brown Brown

Blackshirts: Grey Grey Grey Grey Grey Grey

One of the Blackshirts, another man armed with a Beretta SMG, raised a hand in question/greeting. He then tried to reason with the man who was busy screaming at them. Of course, nothing really got across, as the language was completely different. He was hoping for the tone of voice to imply what he was trying to say. Apparently someone took that as aggressive, as a rifle shot rang out from a building, striking the man center mass and tossing him to the ground Grey, making the other Blackshirts scatter in surprise, as they hadn't seen were the bullet had come from, diving behind any semi-decent cover they could find when the MG34 opened up.

Blackshirts: Grey Grey Grey Grey Grey

With the MG opening up, plus the rounds flying from the other weapons, the Blackshirts couldn't fire off a round with out exposing themselves and getting shot full of holes. Hiding behind a crate, the head Blackshirt and the remaining man with an SMG poked the barrel out from there cover and started spraying blindly fired rounds in the direction of the three Brownshirts in the streets. The Blackshirts with the Breda had hastily set his MG while trying not to make himself seen. He shoved a stripper clip of 20 rounds into the thing and rolled so he could fully use the MG, and sprayed a few rounds in the direction of a Brownshirt who had exposed himself a little too much from behind his crate Brown, quickly expending the twenty rounds in the magazine, before having to roll again and hide himself from the bullets that came clawing through the air at him.

Brownshirts: Brown Brown Brown Brown Brown

Again with an even numbered firefight, a man armed with a Carcano popped up from his hiding position and nailed a Brownshirt wielding a rifle, making the man disappear from the window Brown. Several red puffs of mist soon appeared on the man's chest, as the MG34 spat several rounds in anger at the death of a comerade Grey.

Brownshirts: Brown Brown Brown Brown

Blackshirts: Grey Grey Grey Grey

Under the brief, sporadic cover fire from the Breda, the head Blackshirts, a single submachine gunner, and a rifleman would make quick moves forward. The man manning the MG34 paused to reload his MG, making it were the man with the Beretta appeared from behind his cover and fired a few rounds into a man weilding an MP35, who had also paused and was fumbling to reload his gun Brown. Upon seeing the sudden advantage of the opposing party, the head Brownshirt turned tail and tore off towards the building, the two remaining men of his covering the retreat of their leader. The head Blackshirt and the two men not weilding a MG got up and charged towards the building after the man, while their own MG opened up. The covering fire held up well as the Brownshirts in the building only got off one shot, of course, the one shot hit it's mark: the submachine gunner toppled forward and hit the pavement Grey.

Brownshirts: Brown Brown Brown

Blackshirts: Grey Grey Grey

The Breda paused for a brief moment as the Machine Gunner shoved a new clip into the weapon. He then went and squeezed the trigger. The weapon sputtered for about half of a second before it went and jammed on him. He started fumbling around trying to unjam the Breda, and the last Brownshirt with a rifle took advantage of that moment. There a crack of a rifle, and the Blackshirts cried out, slumping over the machine gun Grey. The last two Blackshirts had made it to the building, out of the arc of fire for the moment.

Blackshirts: Grey Grey

With the cry of the machine gunner, that left just the head Blackshirt and the rifleman across from him. He motioned with his hands, and the rifleman nodded, getting the message. He then went and aimed his Carcano through the door, down a hall, a bayonet having appeared on the end of his weapon. The head Blackshirt then slowly proceeded under the cover of his last remaining man. At reaching a staircase, it was his turn to aim the Beretta up it as the rifleman hurried to catch up with him. They then both went clomping up the stairs. The stumbled across the room that held the machine gun, the young Brownshirt who had been manning it tense as he waited for the two to burst through the door. He was armed with a Walther himself, and had it aimed at the door, sweat streaking down his face. The head Blackshirt burst through the door, and the young Brownshirt fired off a few wild rounds at the man, before being shot by the rifleman Brown. A round had grazed the side of the head Blackshirt, and he removed his hand from his side, it being covered in blood. The rifleman started towards him, but he waved him off and straightened as best as he could. He then ordered the rifleman to check his ammunition, and he did the same. There was the sound of the rifleman pressing his last en bloc clip into his Carcano, and the head Blackshirt reached to his side for a fresh magazine for his Beretta 38. He came up empty. He sighed and tossed the thing aside, drawing his Beretta M1935. He looked at the rifleman, who nodded, and then they headed up another flight of stairs.

Brownshirts: Brown Brown

The two Brownshirts listened as the two pairs of boots clomped up the stairs. The one with the rifle was in the room that led to the one now holding the head Brownshirt, the door shut, and the one standing in front of it. The Blackshirt with the Carcano came in first, and the Brownshirt bellowed and charged forward, striking the man with the but of his Kar98k, making him drop the Carcano. The Brownshirt's back was to a window, and the unarmed Blackshirt tackled the man, both of them flying out the window. When they hit the ground, the Blackshirt landed ontop of the Brownshirt, the latter cushioning the fall of the former. The fall killed the Brownshirt, but since he cushioned the fall of the Blackshirt, he wasn't killed, but he broke a multitude of bones, effectively taking him out of the fight anyway Brown Grey.

Brownshirts: Brown

Blackshirts: Grey

As those two flew out the window, the head Blackshirt, now effectively the last remaining one, raised his Beretta M1935 at the door and slowly advanced upon  the door. The head Brownshirt, on the door's other side, had his MP35 leveled at the door. He heard the footsteps approaching it, and squeezed the MP's trigger. Click. 

He looked down at the MP in disbelief just as the head Blackshirt opened the door, on the spur of the moment thought, the man sped forward and swung the MP35 like a club, hitting the Blackshirt with it. The head Blackshirt dropped his pistol, and went and clutched his side that had now been shot and hit with a weapon. The Brownshirt dropped his MP and closed his fists together before hitting the Blackshirt in the side of the head. The Blackshirt slammed into the wall, now clutching his head as he slumped against it. The Brownshirt then grabbed the front of the Blackshirt's uniform and threw him towards the window. The man hit the floor beforehand, and was trying to get up when the Brownshirt came flying forward again, grabbed him again and pressed him against the window, bending the Blackshirt's back at a semi-unnatural angle. With the upper half of his body leaning out the window, the Blackshirt's side cap fell off of his head and fluttered down to the ground below. He was repeatedly being punched in the face and head, while he coudln't get enough leverage to land a blow of his own. All he managed to do was knock off the brown field cap of the man, which also went and semi-fluttered to the ground below.

-2 hats

The Brownshirt then grabbed the man's throat with one hand and kept repeatedly punching him with the other. With his vision starting to dim, the Blackshirt did the first thing that came to him mind since trying to punch the Brownshirt not working. He made his right hand into a thumbs up kinda position, and then jabbed it into the eye of the Brownshirt. That made the Brownshirt let go of the man and stumble back, his hands going instinctively to his eye. The Blackshirt came fully into the building again, slumping against the window cill, gasping for breath as his vision came back. He then stumbled to his feet, and went scrambling for his M1935, which was on the ground a short bit away. Before he could get there, his head was grazed in a swipe from the boot of the Brownshirt. He fell to the ground a bit short, and reached out to the M1935. He got his hand around it, before a boot came down, and stayed down, upon his hand. He looked up at the Brownshirt, now standing on his hand. He smiled wearily, what a way to go. They'd put up a good fight....

The Brownshirt drew his Walther and had it aimed to where it was only about an inch or so away from the face of the Blackshirt. The Blackshirt just smiled up at him. His free hand then swiped up at the Walther, knocking it's aim wonky as a bullet went and streaked past his ear. He then went and yanked his hand out from underneath the man's boot. He then got to his feet, a boot from the Brownshirt barely missing his head. He then stumbled back and fell onto his back as the second kick connected with his chest. The Brownshirt then charged forward, of course now the Blackshirt could freely use his Beretta. He raised it and shut his eyes, squeezing the trigger multiple times, even after he'd fired all eight rounds in the thing and only recieved Click Click  coming from the gun. He then heard a slight thump of the Brownshirt hitting the ground Brown.


Blackshirts: Grey

- - - - - - - 

The head Blackshirt opened both eyes and sat up, breath heavily, his face beaten and bloodied, his side still leaking blood from the wound. He then slowly got to his feet, and stumbled down the stairs, holstering the Beretta as he went. As he reached the ground floor, he stumbled out into the light of the day. People were starting to peek their eyes and heads out of doors and from behind curtains now. He then heard a slight groan of pain come from near him, and looked over at where the one Blackshirt had fallen from the window. The Brownshirt was definetly dead, but apparently this soldier of his was not.. at least not yet. He stumbled over the man's side. The Blackshirt's legs were in semi-decent working order... well, at least one was. He then slowly helped him up, wrapped the man's arm around his neck, and started to limp away, half-carrying the semi-conscious soldier that served under him.

Expert's Opinion[]

The experts believed that the Blackshirts would of won due to the fact that they carried the better (or at least equal) rifle and the superior submachine gun. They may have lost in the MG and Pistol categories, but the majority of the men fighting wouldn't of weilded these firearms. They were also believed to have been the winner because unlike the Brownshirts, the Blackshirts were actually professional soldiers, having fought in two wars. The Brownshirts were paramilitary too, and definitely more brutal, but they'd only fought other opposing paramilitary groups in unorganized street fights. The combat experience of the Blackshirts fighting actual professional militaries, and the superior training and slightly superior weapons is what gave them the edge to be the victor in this fight.