Green Devils – German Fallschrimjagers
My first encounter…
The day I encountered a Fallschirmjäger, the world shrunk to the size of a Monogram Merite box. My ten-year-old fingers, sticky with anticipation, uncovered the box bought after a delightful afternoon foray at the hobby store in Orchard Road, and there he was – the WW2 German paratrooper, a 54mm scale miniature warrior casted in white metal, his helmet a brimless dome, his smock a ridiculous long-sleeved tunic fused to a pair of bermuda shorts and worn over a pair of pants! He was unlike any soldier I’d ever seen.
He wasn’t like the khaki-clad or field grey heroes seen in Hollywood war movies. This guy was different. His dinky brimless bowl-like helmet, without its flared edge seemed alien, almost like a factory reject. I noted the colour palette of the uniform. The smock, painted grey-green or patterned with splotches of brown and green, looked more like a bad paint job than a military uniform. The tunic collars were either coloured blue or khaki, while the pants were tan. Brown gloves and laced boots complemented the dandy look. Colours I’d never seen on a soldier, colours that whispered of the season’s fashion trends, not parades and battlefields.
At first, I was confused. Alright, this wasn’t the kind of soldier I expected. But then, something sparked. A flicker of curiosity, a whisper of adventure. I wanted to know who he was, where he came from, what stories his helmet and smock held.
And so, I embarked on a quest through the pages of history books (no internet at that time) and the flickering screens of The World at War documentaries (The World at War was a 26-episode British documentary television series that chronicled the events of the Second World War – awesomeness in the images and stories it told).
I learned about the Fallschirmjäger, the elite German paratroopers who rained down from the sky, their boots thudding on cobblestones, their voices echoing through conquered cities. I read of their daring raids, their courage in the face of overwhelming odds, their sacrifices that echoed across continents.
The more I learned, the smaller that Monogram box seemed. It transformed into a portal, each detail a glimpse into a world far beyond my bedroom walls. The streamlined helmet, smaller, lighter and optimized for jumping from an airplane without injuring oneself on any protruding parts, became a symbol of audacious bravery. The smock, no longer a paint mistake, became a canvas of daring stealth, a testament to the paratrooper’s ability to melt into the shadows and strike like lightning.
The Fallschirmjäger in my Monogram box ceased to be just a figurine. He became a window into a world of courage and conflict, a reminder that even the smallest figure can hold the weight of history. And as I held him in my hand, his tiny metal form heavy with the echoes of battles past, I knew I wouldn’t just be building models anymore. I’d be building stories, piecing together the fragments of history, one tiny soldier at a time.
So, the next time you open a military miniature figurine box, remember, it’s not just resin, plastic, metal and paint. It’s a portal to a world of untold stories, waiting to be discovered. And who knows, you might just meet a Fallschirmjäger along the way, waiting to share his own piece of history.
Fantastic collection my friend! I remember some of them well.
Thanks for the huge compliment, my friend. Yes, some figures go back many years, itself good to see that refreshed. I’ve currently an Ardennes FJ project in the pipeline… let’s see how that turns out.