Uniforms and Flags of the Friekorps, a Pictorial Guide

       Though the Freikorps is seen by outsiders as a single, unified entity, in truth there are several layers to its organization, as discussed in a previous article. Based on ancient traditions, the Freikorps fields a wide variety of colorful uniforms that varies from regiment to regiment. Colored facings denote platoons and further esoteric insignia denotes squads, while companies in traditional Astra Militarum fashion have unit standards, symbols, etc... Tall bearskin caps denote the Schutzen regiments, while shakos adorn the heads of the Landwehr soldiery. The Leibgrenadiers have bearskin caps as well, and wear richly adorned heavy carapace armor when fighting.

Landwehr:

      The tradition of green uniforms was born out of necessity, living on a dense forest world, Alfheimers are natural born hunters and the forest green of their PDF uniforms reflects this straightforward mindset. Through the millennia, the uniform has changed little, being largely a reflection of the first inhabitants proud martial heritage that they brought with them from ancient Terra.

Landwehr of the 201st Regiment help their fallen commander after he was struck by heretic lasbolt, a fallen soldier of the Aughmoor Auxilia, another storied regiment of the world of Aughmoor lays close by.

Baron Hohenlohe of the 201st Landwehr with color bearers of the I and II Platoons of the I Kompanie. Alongside him are Lord Commissar Linovsky, and Techpriest Holtz.

 

Schutzen:

 

Usually drawn from the Albrechtspire hive, the Schutzen regiments are more sumptuously attired compared to the Landwehr, with a variety of colored uniforms between regiments. White is mostly predominant, especially with regiments raised from the junker class of the upper hive. Red, blue, grey, and even green have all been noted by Munitorum scribes tasked with supplying the various regiments with proper attire. Whereas in combat the Landwehr sport steel flak armor, the Schutzen wear bronzed flak which once denoted their frontline status. Though only slightly less experienced in forest fighting, the Schutzen tend to be very good at urban combat, having defended their hive city from invaders on numerous occasions throughout Svartalfheim's long history.

Schutzen officer with young cadets of the military academy in the upper hive. The junkers enroll their children at an early age to learn the art of war and many go on to become fine officers of the Freikorps.

The 31st Schutzen "Alt Blauen" (Old Blues) at the battle of Hollenloch, where surrounded by Orks, they held their ground in an open clearing of the mighty forest and fought to the last man before being overwhelmed by Ork Choppas.

Soldier of the 55th Schutzen, the "Scarlet Scum" of the lower Elbestrasse in the lower reaches of Albrechtspire. Made up mostly of Guildwerkers and lower ranking members of society, they have made a name for themselves on more than one occasion, and are tenacious fighters in urban battlezones, highly sought after by offworld commanders for their superior discipline and cunning.

Soldiers of the 55th urged forwards to fight a genestealer cult on Hive Tarsus.

The 69th Schutzen on the ice world of Roskva Prime

Schutzen heavy bolter team, from the 45th Regiment, attached temporarily to the 201st Landwehr while fresh recruits are shipped off from the homeworld.

 

Leibgrenadiers:

 

The Leibgrenadier Regimente is a single regiment, on paper, comprised of the finest warriors of the junker class, and an elite group tasked with protecting the Grand Elector himself with their lives. The Leibgrenadiers are divided by company and assigned to each of the Friekorps regiments on an as needed basis to provided a much needed punch in hotly contested warzones. Their discipline and tactical skill is unparalleled amongst the Alfheimer soldiery. Their uniform is a cream white, and the various companies follow the standard Alfheimer designations using facing colors and other esoteric symbology. Typically the carapace armor that the grenadiers wear vary in color from company to company, with some wearing polished bronze, such as the I Kompanie, and others wearing blue with bronze trim, white, and even red and green carapace.

Leibgrenadier of the I Kompanie with heavy flamer.

 

Regimental Colors:

 

Regimental colors, company colors, and platoon standards vary wildly from unit to unit, but the overall unifying heraldry is that either of the Imperial Aquila, usually effaced in stark black against a field of gold (the Regimental colors of the Leibgrenadiers being the most famous example.) or the Lion of Albrecht, the founder of the hive that bears his name. A red and white striped lion on a field of blue, the Lion of Albrecht is the main heraldic symbol of the Friekorps, for like lions they fight with ferocity and courage like no others. Usually this lion is superimposed over the Cross of St. Otto, that comes in a variety of colors depending on the regiment that bears them.

31st Schutzen "Alt Blauen"

201st Landwehr Freikorps

Regimental Standard of the Leibgrenadiers

112th Landwehr Freikorps

67th Schutzen Freikorps Artillerie

 

55th Schutzen Freikorps "The Scarlet Scum"

 

Private Freiderich

      Freiderich strolled past the mess hall, the place alive with music and many soldiers swilling beer as they belted out the lines of an ancient tune, “Der Kupferschmied”, a popular drinking song back on his homeworld. How he missed it. Despite its fearsome reputation among rogue traders and other merchant travelers of the Imperium, Svartalfheim had a unique charm that only a native Alfheimer could truly love. Oak and pine forests as old as mankind itself covered the world in dense foilage, and the winters were 6 months long, and only at their fiercest during the first month of the year. Alfheimers had long since learned never to be on the roads at night, as raiders from God Emperor knew where swooped down when the Blutmond was at its most crimson, their wild hunters taking you off in those dreary hours to serve as slaves to their dark perversions forevermore in their twisted fairie realm.

   This world, Gamma-Beta 16.3, known to the natives as Ghibli, is a desert world full of sand and hot, sun scorched hours where a man wished to shed his uniform, as the heat could get so maddening. Ghibli was to Private Freiderich a hell. It had to be, as hot as it was. Nights were different of course, being a desert world, temperatures dropped to something most Alfheimers found downright comfortable, and one of the few things that reminded them of home. The 201st Landwehr Regiment of the Svartalfheim PDF was never meant to fight away from its homeworld. But times had changed, and Lord Guilliman needed men to staunch the bloodstained holes in the Imperial frontlines, with the great gash of the Maledictum stretching across the Imperium’s center like a ghastly wound. Ghibli was in the center of that line. It was by sheer accident that the 201st, and indeed the 345th Freikorps ended up here. An Administratum mistake, as they were originally meant to go to reinforce a Valhallan regiment on a forested snow planet further up the Imperial battle line. Kyzyl would have been similar to their homeworld. But a mis-worded order turned the two Navy ships carrying the regiments to this benighted world, where their wool uniforms merely made the heat even deadlier. To add further to this hell, an Ork Waaagh crash landed on the far side of the planet and was colliding with elements of the Chaos warband already on Ghibli, while nightly raids from both enemies whittled down the numbers of Nova Cadians and Tallarn already stationed here.

       Freiderich trudged along past the mess hall to his post at the edge of the camp. His Landwehr uniform patched from long months of campaigning. Supply lines to this sector were thinly stretched and the ship with fresh uniforms was two months late. Probably lost in the warp for all he knew. Johann was ready to be relieved, the thin trooper looked as if he’d lost even more weight than was healthy fighting Orks in the desert. His glasses were fogged from the sandy grit that blew in the night wind. For all their lack of “training” and “discipline” according to the haughtier elements of the Friekorps, these men had learned a lot soldiering on alongside the “regulars” as they called them. Even Lord Commissar Linovsky was impressed by their resolve, having fought alongside them frequently since planetfall was made.
 
          “You should get a drink at the cantina, they sound like they’re having a good time in there.” Freiderich encouraged his squadmate. Johann didn’t move. He sat there atop the sandbags staring at the horizon. His lasgun held in his lap. Freiderich paused, this wasn’t like his old comrade. A stiff crosswind blew up from the east and Johann tumbled over into the sand. A gaping bullet wound in his forehead. Instinctively, Freiderich crouched behind the sandbags, “ALARM!!” He shouted, immediately men clambered from their tents and poured out of the mess hall. Commissars and Officers belted orders and squads took up their posts along the barricade at the camp’s edge. Bugle calls rang out and drums beat to quarters. Long months in the desert had molded the relatively poorly trained Landwehr into as iron willed a force as the regular Friekorps was. Shopkeeper and huntsman alike forged into soldiers of the “Gott Kaiser”.
     
      The acrid scent of discharged laser and burning flesh filled the air around Freiderich as all erupted into a furious firefight with an unseen foe. Somehow they had gotten close enough to the camp to pick off the sentries and were now within charge distance of the line. Freiderich put his deceased friend out of mind and focused on the horizon where bulky, armored shapes moved silently not more than a 1,000 yards distant. A ghastly warcry arose from the marines who sprinted towards the camp with astonishing speed. Freiderich opened fire with his squad close beside him, Sergeant Hecker calmly firing his laspistol at the Night Lords warriors hurtling towards him. “FUR DEN GOTTKAISER!” The cry rang down the line as men readied bayonets and continued to pour volleys into the night. Freiderich had a particular hatred for these traitor marines, for the Night Lords were still talked of in stories handed down through the generations on Svartalfhiem as the monsters who butchered the innocents of the Albrechtspire. The young private took careful aim at the their helmets trying desperately to knock them down like ninepins. Corporal Jungst stepped in beside him supercharging his plasma gun and unleashed a glowing green ball into the Night Lords, turning one of them into a glowing mass of slag. He smiled at Freiderich, his shako jauntily slouched to the side as usual. “Emperor’s balls man! You could’ve warned me you were gonna fire that thing!” Shouted Freiderich, his hair and ear felt scorched from the sudden heat displacement of the weapon. Jungst fell back to let his weapon cool while another trooper took his place in the firing line. The Night Lords still seemed as numerous as ever as the distance closed to 100 yards. Then, utter chaos. The armored tide of marines swarmed over the barricade as the Landwehr fought desperately to hold the line. Freiderich found himself bowled over by a behemoth in night blue armor, his helm a tabeleau of stretched faces with eyeholes staring eternally in abject horror of their last moments. Great crimson bat wings rose from the sides like a ferocious dragon and Freiderich instinctively looked away in terror, before steeling his resolve and turning back looking skyward as he lay in the blood soaked sand, but the warrior was gone, moved on further into the melee. Reeling from the blow, he began to pick himself up, a black clad figure strode into his view, calmly exploding a marine’s head in a ball of plasma. Commissar Linovsky looked down sternly at Friederich and shouted at him in his native Huzzarian, “Wstawaj chłopcze!  Po prostu tam usiądziesz?  Czy walczyć?”  After months of serving alongside Alfheimers, they still had no idea what he said, but by the God Emperor they knew what he meant. Friederich jumped up and with a shout shot point blank into the nearest marine, putting his eye out through his helmet. The marine calmly stood there, as another trooper ran up from behind, quickly swatted away like an insect. The marine tore off his helmet and revealed a hideous leather face with rows of razor blades for teeth. He smiled, an unearthly, inhuman, terrifyingly wide smile. His eyes mere pools of eternal darkness. Friederich was unable to move, and he didn’t know why.

       The marine reached out in a lightning move and grabbed this whelp of a soldier by the neck, hoisting him into the air. His rage at having lost the eye he sold his soul to get, an eye that saw hidden things, things of value to the warrior, already he could hear Tzeencth laughing in his skull, the Changer of Ways had not blessed him with an eye of foresight like he had hoped when he made the bargain. In rage he looked with his one good eye at the scrawny youth gasping for air in his mighty grip. “Did you really think you could kill me, little one?” He said in a quiet tone. Despite the noise of battle raging around them, Freiderich heard him clear as crystal. And he momentarily stopped struggling against the monster’s grip. If he was to die tonight, then by the Gottkaiser he was taking this filth with him. He fixed the monster with a steely death glare, that made even this ancient warrior of untold horrors pause, for a moment. A moment was all the private needed. With one quick thrust the marine found himself suddenly short of air as a bayonet stuck out through the back of his skull. His neck opened up and blood pouring down his gorget. In shock he looked back at Freiderich and then knew what was to come next. Freiderich smiled as his vision began to fade, the marine closing his grip tighter on the youth, and pulled the trigger. A lance of red energy shot forth through the marine’s skull and flames tore from his eye sockets as his grip suddenly loosened on Friederich and both fell to the ground. Then all went black.

      Friederich awoke in the medicae tent. His throat burned with pain and his vision slowly cleared. Sergeant Hecker stood over him along with Baron Hohenlohe, the colonel of the 201st. He tried to speak but those present bid him rest. Hohenlohe looked kindly down on the young private. He was a rather large man, with a round belly from years of swilling lager and a great mustache to match his jolly appearance, and his presence always seemed to fill whatever room he was standing in at the time. “Well done child, by your actions you saved the entire regiment from destruction last night. You slew their Captain in single combat! Well done my boy! For your valiant action, I shall award you this medal of commendation and promote you to the rank of Sergeant First Squad!” Hecker smiled at him, smoking his long pipe and clapped him gently on the shoulder, “As your new lieutenant, I expect you to be fully recovered and back in command of your squad within the week!” Friederich smiled as the two men left, his medal shining in the morning light, like the Emperor’s light chasing away the nightmares of mankind and holding at bay the long night beyond the pale.

The Albrechtspire Freikorps, a History

     In the dark days of the Horus Heresy, one of the last remaining worlds brought under Imperial compliance just prior to Horus’ treacherous betrayal was the forest shrouded deathworld of Sigma-Gamma-599, known ever after in Imperial records, and to the natives of that world, as Svartalfheim. A glistening paradise of green forests, mountain vistas, and woodland lakes and rivers, it is also rife with numerous wild beasts of a voracious variety. Giant “dire wolves”roam in packs among the mountains, able to tear apart entire squads of Guardsmen if they catch them unawares. Lone ghoulish creatures known as “Vitigos” prowl the forests at night seeking lone travelers to devour whole, whilst Eldar Exodite clans live in hidden communities, shielded from prying eyes by their unknown xenotech, whilst on cold moonlit nights, when the Blutmond is red and full, strange craft slip silently through the sky and descend upon isolated villages taking entire communities off into the darkness to be slaves forevermore. Such a world bred the stubborn and defiant Alfheimer. For they do not fear what the forest hides nor what the night brings. When the Heresy came to Svartalfheim, her children stood in ordered ranks, brave soldiers standing against the tide of darkness as traitor marines of the Night Lords rained down from the skies and smote the Albrechtspire with fire and bolter. Many died that terrible night but when dawn came, the hive city still stood, her sons and daughters defiantly holding out in the Elector’s Palace led by the Elector himself, even as the Night Lords raised up grisly trophies of their slaughter the night before, women and children crucified in a great and terrible forest of the slain throughout the hive atop every rooftop visible to the defenders.

      But with the dawn came death for the traitors, as beams of light lanced down from the heavens and sent the Night Lords running for their dropships. The Imperial Navy had arrived. Though unrecorded in Imperial records, the Eldar where whispered to have come out of their hidden cities and aided the stricken hive defenders. When the dust settled, the Grand Elector, Otto the Strong, pledged his entire world to aid in lifting the Siege of Holy Terra, and so raised as many regiments as the hive could spare and set off for the stars. Warp storms caused him to be late to the siege by a century, and arrive off course by several thousand lightyears. Seeing a world beleaguered by an Ork Waaagh, he set about freeing it and after crushing the Ork invasion was proclaimed a blessed liberator by the world of Signus 9. When he  returned home he issued a decree creating the “Friekorps” or “Free Corps” of the Albrechtspire. Ever since, the men of the hive have seen themselves as liberators and bearers of swift justice to the enemies of the Emperor.

     The finest drilled of all the soldaten of the Freikorps, the Leibgrenadiers are the elite bodyguards of the Grand Elector of the Albrechtspire, Planetary Governor for Svartalfheim. Normally kept close to the Elector’s palace in the upper hive, it is not unusual for them to be deployed on battlefields far from home.

Freikorps Leibgrenadier carrying a flamer. Alongside him is a Heavy Weapons team of the Schützen branch of the Freikorps, whilst behind them are soldaten of the Landwehr.

      They are on a par with grenadiers of most other worlds, with an espirit d’corps that some would say is quite strong. They fight for the God Emperor and the Elector. Drawn primarily from the nobility of the upper hive of the Albrechtspire, the Leibgrenadiers are the bane of Xenos and other enemies of Man across the galaxy. Like all “Alfheimers” they have a particular hatred of Eldar, since so many of their legends and early history of Svartalfheim are rife with conflict from both Dark Eldar and Exodites. The recent pact with the Ynnari not withstanding, most Alfheimers would rather die fist fighting an Ork than work with the Eldar. Recently several Leibgrenadier squads have been recruited by agents of the Emperor’s Most Holy Inquisition to hunt down a growing Genestealer cult in the underhive. The Leibgrenadiers Regiment won acclaim most recently in the face of an Ork Waaagh that nearly devasted the southern side of Svartalfheim and were on the walls defending the Albrechtspire from the fiercest of the Ork attacks, with the Grand Elector, August Fritz II, leading the defense. The subsequent liberation of the spaceport and devastated settlements in the Höllenloch Province is the stuff of legends amongst the humble huntsmen and guildwerkers of the planet. Though it exists on paper as a regiment, the Leibgrenadiers are split into individual companies that are paired with Schutzen and Landwehr regiments to provide a much needed edge on the battlefield. They also provide the "Life Guard" to the Elector when he is present in the field.

       The quality of the Freikorps can roughly be divided into three ranks: the Leibgrenadiers who are the elite troops, the Schutzen who comprise the bulk of the Freikorps, and finally the poorly trained and equipped Landwehr, who are more akin to bog standard PDF troops than a true Guardsman. Nevertheless, the Landwehr can still be deployed at the Elector’s whim and the will of the Adeptus Administratum to far off battlezones from which they rarely often return.

       The Schutzen are uniformed similar to the Leibgrenadiers but with less armor and poorer quality equipment. The standard lasgun and flak armor giving them a common bond with their fellow Guardsmen from worlds across the Imperium. What separates these men from their fellow Guard counterparts is their sheer ferocity and disciplined drill tactics. Each man is expected to hold the line for the honor of the the Freikorps and his regiment. To panic and flee the enemy (provided one survived a summary execution by the Commisariat) is a disgrace to the entire family of the coward who shirks his duty to the “Gott Kaiser” (as the Emperor is known on Svartalfheim). Though they are not stupid in this regard and are also well enough accustomed to fighting Eldar in the heavily forested deathworld they call home. They will fight a moving battle when need be and the armored companies of the Freikorps are second to none in the art of the “Blitzkrieg”. Even Knight Commander Pask once said that of all the armored units he’d ever choose to be at the side of his Cadians in a desperate battle, he’d be sure to have the Freikorps at the spear tip. Artillery is another strong suit of the Freikorps, with many folk songs and tall tales of the life of an artilleryman. The Elector has such a good rapport with the Mechanicus that the Freikorps has no shortage of Basilisks for its operations. “When it rains it shells.” is a common expression amongst Alfheimers on the battlefront.

      Finally we come to the least well equipped of the Freikorps, the Landwehr. Originally this was Svartalfheim’s Planetary Defense Force, but the recent developments in the Indomitus Crusade have forced the Elector to deploy them as frontline garrison troops, and sometimes even alongside the Linieninfanterie as reinforcements. Though the men and women of the Landwehr are humble hunters and villagers from the numerous small settlements scattered amongst the dark and brooding Himmelwald, they fight with conviction and faith in the Gott Kaiser. In these dark times they have become very adept at guerrilla warfare, most having honed their fighting skills fighting off Drukari raiders and the ever present Exodites who to them are the “fairy folk” that live in enchanted castles behind invisible barriers. Many superstitions abound amongst the Landwehr about these malign Xenos and they will often shoot one on sight. Though once they couldn't always be counted on to hold the line, they do make excellent scouts and sharpshooters despite their often complete lack of traditional battlefield discipline. That all changed when the Grand Elector formally "adopted" them into the Freikorps as frontline troops. Now with years of battlefield experience behind them, the Landwehr form a valuable auxiliary force to the Schutzen line regiments and often exceed them in iron discipline.