The Game of War (P/MT|Semi-Open|ATTN Brimstone Pact, CCON)

[The Master M]

Blinking embers, tell me true
Where are those armies marching to,
And what the burning city is
That crumbles in your furnaces!

A dozen figures, clad in sweeping black cloaks, arranged themselves around a large circular map display. It sat in the middle of a large, brightly lit white room – the light seemed to be almost blindingly white, and appeared to shine through the walls. Represented on the interactive display was a large scale map of Hellena, the current front line changing slowly to match the contours of a river. The display suddenly zoomed out, far away from Hellena, to a point about two and a half thousand kilometres from the regional waters of the Confederacy of Communist Nations. Stretching for dozens of kilometres in every direction was a vast fleet of Mian ships, steaming forwards in widely spaced combat formations.

One of the figures rose, smiling broadly. “The end of the beginning is nigh. Inform the King that Helllfire has begun.”


Hellena Forward Operations (Command)
0750 MST

What was once a large field behind the crest of a low hill had been turned into a charnel house of broken, twisted bodies and abandoned military equipment that the retreating communists had left in their escape across the river. Within an hour of the duty quartermaster finding the site, more than sixty nissen huts had, as if by magic, sprung up from the ground to replace the carnage of war. The easy part done, the man then had the arduous task of finding space for all of the required equipment and billeting the numerous military commanders that would indeed demand 'adequate' space within the base. Luckily for the quartermaster, he had a dark sense of humour; important generals were offered spaces barely fit for a mere private, bulky armaments crates filled many of the huts and Artillery officers were billeted in the same huts as the Cavalry officers – a fierce rivalry that could trace it's roots back three hundred years to the last Mian civil war.

By the time Commander Maybury and his escort arrived, the command centre was a hive of activity. Waving away the other commanders and saluting the formed up escort company, Maybury walked casually into the Command Hut, half a dozen aides in hot pursuit. Inside, a gruff looking airborne General - blood soaked bandages covering half of his face – leaned over a large, equally blood soaked map. “Good of you to join us Angus,” the paratrooper smiled, the scars on his face making his smile seem more like a sardonic grin.

“You've had a hell of a time Freddy, sorry we couldn't get up here sooner. We didn't expect them to cut and run so fast.” The Commander looked towards the table, and began leafing through a wad of papers. “Your butchers bill?”

Freddy grimaced. “We jumped with just over six thousand, and as of zero-six hundred the estimate stands at a little under two thousand dead, another two thousand wounded and three hundred missing. We got hit hard when their armour came. It was mad, Angus, bloody well mad.”

“In the landward push, we only lost a few hundred. Still, at least you've got yet another set of scars to enhance that visage of beauty you call your face.”

“Hilarious, as always. A witty remark does not a comedian make. But back to the subject at hand, what are the orders from Command?”

Maybury smiled, offering Freddy one of the curiously long cigarettes that Mian nobility smoked. Gazing at the large map of Hellena on the table, he motioned to the river which now marked the front line. “My orders are to jump on a fast jet and meet up with the fleet nearing Strathy. You, however, are to remain here and assume command of the islands military forces.”

Looking like a peasant that had just inherited a princedom, Freddy's face was a map of bewilderment and something close to delight. “Me? I'm an Airborne officer, I have next to no experience in commanding large armoured formations.” His faced settled into a look of grim satisfaction, the formerly long cigarette now a mere stub in a black marble ashtray. “There must be someone more qualified for the job?”

An aide, clearly out of breath, entered the room only long enough to inform Maybury that his helicopter was ready to depart. “Like it or not old boy, your the most experienced officer on the island with my staff and I gone. Usually Command wouldn't allow an Airborne officer to preside over such an operation, but luckily I have some say with the island's current commander.” With a sly grin, the Commander buttoned his cloak. “I'm off General, but I wish you luck. You'll find your orders in this.”

After shaking hands with his departing friend and superior, the now Command of Hellenic operations opened the small manilla file left on the desk. It's creamy, white paper was blank, save for a few words: “Victory, at all costs.” Prepared, he gave the order; two fresh divisions would attack across the river, attempting to ford it at it's shallowest points. Even with heavy air and artillery support, the thirty four thousand Mian soldiers were under no illusions that it would be anything short of suicidal. Unfortunately, only three points were found where the river was shallow enough to allow the heaviest tanks, and these positions would surely be heavily defended.

Scheduled to begin a mere twenty-four hours after the last attack, it was a logistical nightmare getting the two Mian divisions to their staging areas; of the hundred or so transport helicopters on the island, only a few dozen were free for the transport of troops, and the great majority of the men were forced to walk the fifteen kilometres wearing full gear. Beseechingly the marched past row after row of five-ton trucks, vehicles that were unable as yet to traverse the badly damaged roads which snaked towards the front. They noted with disgust the long train of tanks threading up the one decent road, carrying the lucky few who managed to beg or barter with the tank crews. To make it worse, they had not received their morning rations amongst the logistical nightmare – apparently the ship carrying their Corps fresh food had been mixed up with a munitions ship bound elsewhere – and thus were looking at the unappealing task of eating cold D-Rations. Lastly, and perhaps most troubling to the men was the news filtering through the ranks that the outnumbered Mian carrier group, a third of it's ships sunk or abandoned, was retreating north. Although the more pragmatic knew that it would be but two days before a larger, stronger naval force would arrive to make safe the island, a significant proportion of untested troops saw this as a sign of their coming destruction. And then the rain started.

***

2,400 nm North-West of Strathian Territorial Waters
2140 MST

The bridge deck was a hive of activity; dozens of men and women rushing to their stations because of the general alert alarm that echoed through the ship. All across the colossal Hammer, one of the Most Serene Republic's four Longsword-class Super-capital ships, just over forty thousand crewmen rushed to their battle stations, filling the multitude of corridors with swift feet. “Duty crew to battle-stations, this is not a drill. All stations, tactical alert.” As this message cycled continually in the monotone voice of the ships automated messaging system, the duty Intelligence Officer swept past two large marines guarding a pair of large, oak-panelled doors. Within, a dozen or so Naval Officers sat around an expansive oval table, all staring expectantly at the doorway. The man at the head of table rose, and the Intelligence officer saluted.

“Admiral,” he nodded, taking his seat. The other men suddenly stopped talking, their eyes drifting as one to the Admiral's. Supreme Admiral Sir William Hall, or 'Wild Bill' to his men, nodded acknowledgement to all of those seated. His pristine white uniform was heavily weighed down by lengths of gold chord and countless medals, with the left arm bearing a double-looped length of black material – one for each ship that he had lost in battle. The last, the super-carrier Flagstaff, had taken an anti-ship missile to the bridge; Hall was lucky to escape with only a shattered left arm and few more facial scars, but twelve hundred of his men were not. Now those fading scars ached slightly, as they always did on the eve of battle. “Where are we gentlemen?”

The man to his left, wearing the same uniform – albeit with a lot less gold – responded almost instantly. “The vanguard entered the designated-battle zone several minutes ago. Forward pickets report no enemy activity.”

A second man, wearing even less braid, picked up almost immediately. “Fleet has full coverage from the air arm, the eyes in the sky haven't picked up anything bar a few destroyers.”

Clearing his voice, the Intelligence Officer stood, his midnight-black uniform contrasting greatly with almost everyone else in the room. “We received a packet of heavily encrypted data eleven minutes ago, from Paraiso. It contains something I think you might like to see.” Drawing a large tablet PC from his jacket, he began scrolling through it's various functions. “If you gentlemen would care to look at the screen,” he said, pressing a button which turned the entire back wall of the room into a large screen, “you'll see what appears to be a large formation of naval vessels docked in what we believe to be the largest Strathian naval port. This picture was taken five days ago.”

The picture changed, showing a close up of the port. “Although it's a little blurry, those are clearly aircraft carriers. And if you look here,” he said, the picture changing again, “they're gone. This picture is two days old. Since then, our RORSATs have found nothing. Unfortunately, our intelligence file on the Strathians is relatively thin – we can't even reliably say how large or of what composition their navy is.”

“So what do we know?” the Admiral began, casually striking up a cigar, much to the dismay of his asthmatic aide. “Surely you overpaid spooks actually do something with the trillions of Steryls you receive every year?” he continued, with only the barest hint of a smile showing under his brilliantly white moustache.

Feeling the sting of the man's words, the intelligence officer reposted with somewhat lack of wit. “We- hundreds of countries- the MMIS does not answer to the navy. In any case,” he continued, recovered somewhat, “it is my recommendation that we have enough to continue as planned.”

As the meeting continued, the fleet assumed standard combat procedures; hundreds of fighter aircraft patrolled the area ahead and around the large fleet, providing essentially complete radar coverage in a wide band around the Mian fleet; dozens of helicopters patrolled with sonar buoys, searching for any submarine presence in combination with the sixty-two attack submarines fanning out around the fleet in the same role; high above, escorted by single wings of fighters, AWACS aircraft plugged gaps in the radar net, and co-ordinated the movements of the rest of the units below; finally, four dozen maritime strike aircraft patrolled high above the waves, searching earnestly for the Strathian fleet. The Mians were ready; now all they needed was an enemy to fight.

***

Hellena
0424 - Six Minutes to H-Hour
Day 4

The first sliver of dawn forced it's way into the sky, edging slowly wider from the horizon. The few echelons of wildlife that hadn't been killed or forced from their destroyed habitats awoke noisily, in the eerily quiet death throes of night. The continual barrage had ceased five hours previously; the ammunition simply did not exist, and the captured Strathian supplies proved to be of a wrong calibre, and what remained was barely enough to support the opening stages of the coming assault. Thus, other means had to be found to soften up the enemy positions; MLRS vehicles would fire a heavy barrage of VX filled missiles into the areas of attack, killing many unless the Strathian NBC drills were well rehearsed, in which case the gas would cause more panic than actual harm.

As covertly as possible, dozens of portable bridging barge – long, flat and wide wheeled platforms that would drive into the river, floating across with the troops on top or combining to form a temporary bridge. Three thousand would also land across the river in a combined assault by fast boats and helicopters, and supported by specialised amphibious armoured vehicles. The Air Force was continuing it's campaign of dominance, and those ground attack aircraft that weren't attacking the lines struck continually at the unloading Strathian ships.

Without much fanfare, the artillerist opened up as one, and the VX was launched. Within a minute, Twenty thousand troops, fully equipped in NBC gear, were advancing towards the enemy.

[Strathy]

Hellena.
0420.

Himms was in his command tent, sipping his last few drops of Whisky when the intelligence officer ran in. The young corporal pulled off his balaclava and stood to attention. "Sir, wish to report, Mian forces massing at points Bravo, Foxtrot and Papa along the river!" Himms stood up and looked at his map, then at the muddy boy standing before him.
Himms then looked to his map, the Mians were going to cross at the shallowist points on the river. "Corporal, go to the comms tent, tell Colonel Francios to put the entire line on alert. And begin a concentrated artillery barrage on these points. Dismissed."

As the Corporal left, Himms readied himself for the up coming battle. The defences were strong, and he had been reinforced considerably. His men had a new found sense of confidence, and so did he. He left the tent to go to his forward bunker. Sprinting through the trees he leaped into the bunker where all the Commanders were already waiting. Himms began loading his revolver, and breifing the commanders. "Gentlemen, the Mians are starting their attack, they shall break against our defences like the sea on rocks. Once the attack has died down, we begin Operation Express Delivery. A fast, counter attack along the entire front. This is it, our chance to turn the tides in this war, and to destroy the Mian menace once and for all." Himms began taking a map out, but no soon than the map had hit the table, did the first shots start.

The Strathan batteries opened up on the river and the far bank, and at 0430, the sound of rifles and machine guns could be heard. Himms rushed to the observation slit on the bunker and saw the first waves on Mian troops rushing across the river on hastily consructed bridges. Himms turned to the artillery commander: "Concertate fire on the bridges and the engineers. I don't want a single Mian soldier setting foot on this side of the river!"

As the Mian troops rushed into the river, Strathan machine guns and men in the trenches began firing away at them. The artillery pounded the far bank and the field guns threw their 54mm rounds into the river and at the Mian soldiers already making the crossing. It became clear to Himms, that this was not the work of the same commander he had faced a few days ago. The large formations of Mian armour were a shambels crossing the river and the Mian artillery was nowhere to be seen. Himms called in three Spetsnaz attack helicopters to sweep up and down the river: Their 7.62mm SK autos spat out over 6000 rounds per minute, reducing the shore lines to scenes of slaughter and massed chaos. Thei missiles tore through the air and enveloped entire sqauds of men in flames. The Mians, wasted no time in firing back. Amongst the panic, a well placed SAM tore the rotor-blades off of one of the gunships. The remaining two, out of ammo and have caused sufficient damage made their escape. The whole mission had taken the chppers less than three minutes, and no later had they left, than did the Mian fighters appear. The two remaining gunships were mere target practice for the Mian fighter jets. This new land commander may not have had the experience, but there air power was as daunting as ever.

As Mian troops poured across the river, the Strathan guns hammered on, the defenders keen not to lose more ground. Himms watched on in delight, it was the first speight of good luck in days. The smile promptly vanished as a mist made its way across the river. The bastards! They were beign gassed. The order for gas masks was passed down the line, too late to save some, but soon enough to save the rest. Himms fitted his and cursed the Mian troops advancing in the deadly fog.

Down on the line, men fitted their masks, those who didn't fell to the ground, coughing and choaking for air. It was a dastardly move. But it would only anger the defenders more. The fired at the men corssing the river, their aim hampered by the masks. Fighters began to circle above where the helicopters had once been. Every Communist soldier along the line cursed the Mians, cursed the Most Serene Republic and cursed which ever sadistic bastard that had given the order to use gas.

Now, the fight was really on. It was no longer an honerably fight for their beliefs, it was all our slaguhter!

---

The nerve gas attack on The Island of Buchannan in Strathy's North had prven something, The Most Serene Republic was more capable than orginally anticpated. Home Fleet 1 was away in the far north and Home Fleet 2 was far to the south east. Home Fleet 3 had been spead out across the north western coasts in an attampt to guard the islands against another such attack. Little did the Naval Commanders know of the Mian fleet, massing off the North West Coast. Home Fleet 3 was prepared to take out small groups or lone ships, nothing bigger.

Venturing out into the farthest reaches of the partol zone, was the scout submarine, SPS Granger. She was a small Echo class, designed to look for enemy ships and direct the opening stages of any engagements. She was not prepared for what awaited her. As she crawled ever further out to sea, her crew grew tense. Captain John Barrow had seen many such actions, but somehow he did not have a good feeling about this one. There was nothing different with this mission than with any other, but he felt something, right in the pit of his stomach that told him, this was not the same.

As they crept even further out, the submarines senstive sensors looked out for the slightest hint of enemy activity. Captain Barrow stood in the centre of the Command Centre, looking over various crew member's shoulders. Then Captian Barrow had a thought, a deep dreading thought, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach for not having thought of it before. There was no way he would get so far out of Strathan waters un-molested. He was atleast 1900nm out, and nothing. He had made a grave error. He turned to his helmsman, sweating and shaking, and whispered into the man's ear; "Clear the baffles."
The Helmsman, sensing the panic in those words made a few quick movements from side to side. Barrow watched the sonar display, nothing, nothing. He began to feel relief, and then, a blip. He knew he had made a huge error, a rookie mistake. He started to issue orders for a combat, but it was too late, the first Mian torpedo struck the SPS Granger on the stern, redering her immobile. Barrow, sensing the his end, began a radio call to Strathan Naval Command. "Contact! Grid square......" That was as far as he got, the next torpedo tore straight through the sub, destroying her completely.

---

Back in New Glasgow, Naval Command had just recieved the transmission. A group of senior officers was gathered around the table, looking at copies of mission logs, data. postioning and of course, that last transmission, of The SPS Granger. Fleet Admiral Dereck Tyson stood up and addressed the room: "I am affraid, Gentlemen, that there is no way to be sure exactly where the Granger was at the time of the attack. We have a rough sqaure, of about four thousand square kilometres. Now I don't need to tell you, that trying to find one enemy submarine in that area is going to be damned near impossible." Tyson looked about the room before continuing. "Now, it is my belief, that they wouldn't simply leave one sub out there on its own, I believe that we are dealing with something much bigger."
A Rear Admiral of Home Fleet 3 stood up: "You mean, sir, there could be a whole fleet out there?"
"That is correct. That is what I believe."
There was a scared murmering around the table, such a fleet could present an incredible danger to Strathy if left unchallenged. "Sir", asked another Rear Admiral. "Is is possible to track the Granger at all more specifically?"
"No, I am affraid not. Most of the data that she was sending us, including that last transmission, was lost when she was destroyed, we can not get a more specific location." After a brief pause, Tyson continued. "I am going to move Home Fleet 1 closer to the Home Islands to help defend. HF 3 will continue with her current charge. I am also going to start sending out drones to scour the area. We need a better location for these gits. Vice-Admiral Fenson, you and your carrier sqadron are responsible for this mission."
Fenson nodded his agreement, there was only one question left. Admiral James Johnstone, Commander of Home Fleet 2 stood up. "Sir, with all due respect, what of my fleet, what are we to do?"
Tyson understood that the man wanted his fleet to be involved and tried to explain. "James, I need your boats in reserve. If this goes shit shaped, I need to have back up. I am sorry, but I have HF 1 to command and HF 3 are already busy, I am so sorry."
Johnstone sat down again. With that the meeting was dismissed. Strathy was facing a whole new threat, and Fleet Admrial Dereck Tyson was not about to let it through.

Both sections of this post edited to match circumstances.

[Peace for men]

"Enemy unit moving 1015 degrees!" "HE loaded!" "Round away!" The tank moved as the shell launched from its barrel. Across the surface of the water and straight into the group of Mian infantry massing on the far bank. The machine guns and rifles of the Red Army filled the air with noise and bullets the air turning into solid hell for anyone trying to attack the Red army positions. Spetsnaz riflemen folded in with the Red army units opened up with expert marksmen fire on the enemy units moving forwards across the river. Rockets filled the air in turn as the men fought to prevent the crossing.

The air filled with noise as Spyrik communicated with the fleet, "Under heavy fire at the landing sorry General but i need those planes!" Spyrik listened to the adrimal as he recieved this message. "Fuck. Right then well deploy as many as you can to fight back those fighter bombers then send some our way with naplam and rockets."
"Copy General." Spyrik put the radio reciever down and then lifted himself up in his trench and emptied his entire rifle magazine into a squad of enemy engineers attempting to force the bridge across the river. The gas mask made it hard for him to aim properly but with the toxic cloud still hanging in the air the men found that the masks were a god send along with the constant drilling.

--------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, high above the landing craft, the Red Air Force soared into action against the enemy attack aircraft. Rockets launched up from the ground as mobile SAMS clicked into life the SPYDER anti-aircraft launchers hitting their targets with brutal efficency. The sky filled with noise as the RAF made ready hundreds of air craft to take back the air space of Hellana. As the enemy attack continued to grow against the Strathian and Red Army landing craft more and more RAF planes entered the fray once having struck down several craft they quickly pushed forwards to laucnh their attack against ground based SAM sites and enemy air bases and planes across Hellena.

"The fight has begun and all men are needed to break and move us forward!" Makarov's words were being moved around the lines everywhere the Red army, air force and navy would fight to the bitter end and conscription was nearly un-needed with hundreds more men and women joining up in the thousands across the nation.

OOC: EDITED

[Abruzi]

Кому: враги Конгломерат сверхдержавы и Международной марксистско-Otet революции
От: Neo Союза большевистской из Abruzi, Комиссариат иностранных дел, к югу от комиссариата Министерства Удовлетворенность, комиссариата о Otherthink
Уровень шифрования: 4
Мысль дня: буржуазия сократили семьи отношения к чисто денежным отношениям!

Приветствую вас,

Neo большевистской Союз наблюдал этот конфликт развиваться в течение достаточно долгого времени. Мы наблюдали, как ревизионистского и контрреволюционных сил и средств так называемого "Коммунист" Конфедерации двигаться против наших доблестных товарищей Mians!Люди Abruzi, Авангард международной революции, кричать, "НЕТ!" Силами ревизионизм не может свободно коррумпированных движения работника больше!Сил ревизионизм не может свободно торговать своей лжи!Силы ревизионизм должны сопротивляться любой ценой на любом поле боя!

Neo большевистской Союз заявляет состоянии войны между собой и "Коммунист" Конфедерации на основании идеологической чистоты вынуждены разбить идеологической ревизионизма.

Мужчин и женщин, рабочих и крестьян Красной Армии должны разбить свои линии!Черепа ваши солдаты должны быть раздавленным под железом гусеницами наших танков!Господар Lubanja предоставляется черепа тысячами, с целые города перевернулся на убой оснований для его поклонения! В конце концов, Neo Идеально большевистской должна царить и перед нами, ваша опустошена армии должны дрожать и плакать!

Вперед мы идем, по Марксу! Для Otet! Для Дмитрия силовиков! Для Господар Lubanja! Самое главное, мы идем за освобождение от Пролетарской скрытое господство буржуазии, как во всех ревизионистского лагеря! Вперед мы идем, вперед навсегда! Ибо только в смерти ли долг конца!

To: The enemies of the Conglomerate Superstate and the International Marxist-Otet Revolution
From: The Neo Bolshevist Union of Abruzi, Commissariat of Foreign Affairs, Sub-Commissariat of the Ministry of Contentment, Commissariat Concerning Otherthink
Encryption Level: 4
Thought for the Day: The Bourgeoisie have reduced the family relation to a mere money relation!

Greetings,

The Neo Bolshevist Union has watched this conflict develop for quite some time. We have watched as the Revisionist and Counterrevolutionary forces and assets of the so called “Communist” Confederacy move against our valiant Comrades the Mians! The People of Abruzi, Vanguards of the International Revolution, cry out; “NO!” The forces of Revisionism shall not be free to corrupt the worker’s movement any longer! The Forces of Revisionism shall not be free to peddle their lies! The forces of Revisionism shall be resisted at any cost on any battlefield!

The Neo Bolshevist Union hereby declares a state of war between itself and the “Communist” Confederacy on the ground of ideological purity being forced to smash ideological revisionism.

The men and women of the Workers and Peasants Red Army shall smash your lines! The skulls of your soldiers shall be crushed beneath the iron treads of our tanks! The Gospodar Lubanja shall be given skulls by the thousand, with entire cities turned over to slaughter grounds for his worship! In the end, the Neo Bolshevist Ideal shall reign supreme and before us, your devastated armies shall tremble and weep!

Forward we march, for Marx! For Otet! For Dmitri Siloviki! For the Gospodar Lubanja! Most importantly, we march for the liberation of the Proletarian from the covert dominance of the bourgeoisie as found in all Revisionist Camps! Forward we march, forward forever! For only in death does duty end!

***

The Neo Bolshevist Union. The name itself no longer applied to what was a shattered relic of a bygone age. The atomic devastation of thirty years ago, had left only the Turgovian Federal District as pure, with the majority of the Red Army taking shelter there. While still numbering some 11 Million individuals, the Red Army no longer was armed with the best and most modern equipment. It not longer was policed for the slightest otherthink violations, it no longer was the force that was the stuff of nightmares for many anti-socialist entities.

Fused with the Cult of the Gospodar Lubanja, macabre god of Abruzi, the Red Army still had the means to launch a proper invasion though it lacked the fuel to do so. Hellena Command could play host to an Abruzian “Vanguard” (Expeditionary Force), though it would do so in parts. The 15th Guards Airborne Division would be the initial Neo Bolshevist contribution, to be followed up by the 27th Rifle Corps, 21st Tank Division, 4th Guards Rocket Sivashskaya Artillery Division, and the 48th AA Division. These assets would be ferried to Hellena Command via Antonov An-225 escorted by the Pak-Fas of the Red Air Force.

Tur Exclusionary Zone
Ministry of Contentment Headquarters

The soft whirl of distant machinery was faintly audible over the calm voice that spoke in never ending riddles. He spoke about everything and nothing, the chances of success and of failure, the flows of fallout over Abruzi, the meaning of life and death, the informational field only he and the select few mutants could alert or even perceive. He was, DMITRI, the greatest wonder that the Neo Bolshevist Science Commissariat could produce. A super-consciousness, birthed to lead the Neo Bolshevist Union forward in a never ending crusade to rebuild it’s lost strength. Today, he spoke of the Neo Bolshevist Ideal and while his Generals and Political Puppets looked on, he switched to the matter concerning the Mians.

“Comrades, you are here to receive orders regarding the Mian situation. I have calculated that our forces have roughly a 62.435 percent chance of success, taking into account the fact that morale is likely low due to the atomic obliteration of most of the men’s families and cities.”

The voice was smooth and calm, almost like a kindly grandfather’s as he read a bedtime story to his favorite grandchild. DMITRI showed no concern over the fact that the majority of the Neo Bolshevist Union was in the hands of foreign occupiers or that nuclear war had devastated his country. With this soft voice DMITRI continued,

“Our assets will be in place in roughly sixty three hours should we mobilize the Airborne Division first, which we will do. They shall then enter combat roughly forty eight hours after that. I predict a 73.53 percent chance that the enemy will not be expecting our forces to be in theater so soon.”

It paused and the men in the room began to sweat as it’s “psychic” self probed them one by one. In reality, DMITRI was able to modify and interact with an informational field that was created by all living things, it was able to read thoughts, make changes, and if necessary spawn life. Mutant life in Abruzi was abound in the Exclusionary and Dead Zones around the foreign occupied Shield Cities, for a reason. Now he simply probed the minds of his Generals and Political Officers, scenting for any signs of Political Insanity or Otherthink. After a moment the voice said,

“Human Asset, preferred designation; Colonel Krv’y Otet, birth designation; Dmitri Ivanovitch Novi, you have subconsciously voiced your eagerness for this mission. I have read your file, and agree that your Airborne Division is the best choice given our unique situation regarding Force Disposition. Rouse your men.”

With that, the Politburo meeting was over. DMITRI dismissed it’s officers and puppets with a slight psychic shove, returning to it’s endless internal conversation regarding the nature and meaning of life.

The rusted gears of the Neo Bolshevist War Machine began to clank and turn. Units were called up and issued their equipment, mostly old weapons and gear produced before the blasts. Ministry of Contentment Liquidation Detachments as well as the 101st Independent Company of the Black Army were covertly placed on the same transport craft as the 15th Guards Airborne Division and the Political Commissars led the prayers to the Gospodar Lubanja. Blood was offered and the craft took to the skies. It was a new era, an era of renewed Foreign Action by the Neo Bolshevist Union. If DMITRI was correct, it would also be an error of terror for it’s enemies.

[Ralkovia]

Corruption, Underhanded Deals, Impropriety, it has invaded even the purest of places on Earth, the Imperial Palace.
- Teachings Of Bartholomeu Asdgar, Revolutionaire hung from his own entrails for criticism of Emperor Joshua the Second

Imperial Palace
4 Weeks Earlier
"I am surrounded by all the beauty of the World and you Mians come to me asking for supplication. You do not send me gold, nor Jewels, nor any precious resource. You press unto me, the G-d Emperor, the inheritor of Heaven and minister of the lords flock, the importance of this victory yet all you send me are some curt beauties of flesh. The lord and I do not enjoy such genuine insults."
The Emperor paused looking to the women, beautiful but still whores. He began to feel a growing warmth stirring in his loins, "but it is enough to hearken to your pleas. I shall deal my orders...for this pleasure," the Emperor stepped away from the throne, two thousand extraordinary looking women from TMM following behind him.

The Golden Palace remained a place of impeccable wealth and opulence. Outside its thick stone walls decay stunk up the air. Ralkovia, its cities former gleaming jewels now shrouded in dust. Anger and resentment brewed, but the constant flow of plunder would keep it from rising up. Despite, all the troubles at home, the Empire stilled loved war. Its people surrounded by the constant call to arms.

"War," as it was said,"was a Ralkovian Sport."

WRATH FLEET
Four Hundred Nautical Miles Away From Hellena

One thousand two hundred vessels, warships and transport from across the colonies of the Empire. Filled with not hundreds, nor thousands, nor even hundreds of thousands, but millions of faces.
Close to one million Ralkovian soldiers were carried within the hundreds of transports. Thousands of battle tanks, APC's, jeeps, and trucks held within the bowels of the ships. On the decks, close to five hundred helicopters, and almost two hundred planes ranging in size.

This was a Ralkovian War Machine at its finest.

The Mians had simply been holding the assault, until this Ralkovian military could enter the battlefield, freeing up the Mians to pursue the Strathian homeland.

The reactants of steel, gunpowder, and flesh would produce victory, like an alchemical reaction.

As the fleet neared its target, it released the first wave. A Thundering Death Shower in the form of ninety eight Klaus Interceptor Fighter Jets, ten Electronic Warfare "Haggler" aircraft, three "Golden Eye" AWACS, and twelve Ground Assault Aircrafts simply known as "Menacers." This air army would be able to strike back at the enemy air campaign with brutal effectiveness.

The Hagglers would simply begin to jam enemy frequencies, rendering their radar based weapons and communication systems inoperable. Peace of Men and Strathian aircraft would be quite vulnerable without any way of detecting enemies or communicating with the ground. The Klaus's would soon begin to shoot down enemy jets with quick assaults. While the Menacers would break the enemy assault with its array of heavy weapons.

Meanwhile, close to three hundred vessels would break off from the fleet to attack the enemy ships at the end of the island. The rest of the fleet would close the distance and begin offloading the million man army.

Protection of the transports was key, submarines and around the clock escort planes would keep the transports quite safe. The convoy of twenty Oracle class Defensive Picket ships was also a welcome addition to the defensive array.

Mian Airfield
Twenty Ralkovian escort jets swirled around the skies, ever alert for enemy threats. They had taken to the skies late at night from the island of San Eza, almost 2000 nautical miles from Hellena. It was the closest Ralkovian Military Base, a narrow but long tropical island stuck out in the middle of the ocean. It's isolation, was also the reason for its importance. Bunkers to protect the Emperor from a globa nuclear holocaust criss-crossed the inside of the island. The fact that the Emperor would reside here in times of emergency was also the reason it carried a massive armament ofdefensive planes, numbering almost forty fighters, fifteen super heavy transports, ten light bombers, and three heavy bombers. A huge airfield, encompassing the majority of the twenty three square mile island, was capable of landing/taking off even the largest plane in the Ralkovian arsenal, the Perseus Super Heavy Transport.

It soon became apparent just what the Ralkovian escorts were protecting as ten Perseus Class Super Heavy Transports soon appeared on the horizon. The trip down to the air field was tense as the planes didn't so much as make a soft landing but collide with the ground. The wind roared like a behemoth in pain against the wings of the aircraft, whose flaps now exploded outward and a large parachute shooting up in the back, making the plane resemble the display of a peacock.

These four hundred ton aircrafts carried within them close to one thousand five hundred Ralkovian Death Guard each. The Death Guard were the very best of the Ralkovian Military, taken away at birth and taught by the government itself, they were highly capable and extremely deadly adversaries when it came to war. Close to fifteen thousand were now landing, itching to fight for the Emperor. They were quick in offloading, being on an open airfield with little in terms of cover would do them no good. They would spread out from the Perseus's, leaving quickly from the planes and running to the sides of the runway staying in the ditches that covered them.

The Death Guard then waited for the true thunder to begin, as five additional Perseus's began their descent. It was from their bellies that Thirty "Decimator" Battle Tanks, twelve "Bomba Beetle" Self-propelled guns, and close to sixty "Weasel" Ground Assault Personnel Vehicles would disembark and be spirited to the frontlines.

The Death Guard Theater Commander, sixty two year old, Dmitri Grimjaw watched the less than elegant Perseus's hurtle towards the finish line. Only after he had made sure that their landing had gone on without complication did he turn his back on the flopping whales. The driver already knew the man's command and pressed his foot against the cold metal of a closed top humvee as they and two escort humvees made their way to the Mian Headquarters.

[Deutschtiergaten]

Nicholas Strausberg was the duty officer this night in charge of security at the Chairman of the State Council's residence near Wandlitz, just outside the capital of Brandenburg in the Democratic Republic of Deutschtiergaten (DRD). A major in the Ministry of State Security (MSS), he had been working protective details for high ranking members of DRD Government since he started. It was a rather luxurious job that afforded him access to the best of everything in the DRD and at the same time it was a great honor. Although he had graduated in the top of his class and had a stellar record as an intelligence officer in the National People's Army, in which he still held a reserve commission, many attributed his rise to his present position to his father's status in the party. Afterall, it was not every day that a 27 year old got the chance to be the deputy of the security detail for the most powerful man in the DRD, Dietrich Gutenburg.

As Chairmen of the State Council, Dietrich Gutenburg was the head of state of the DRD. Dietrich also held the position of Chairmen of the National Defense Council, which made him commander in chief of the National People's Army. These honors were bestowed upon Dietrich by the Politburo of the Socialist Unity Party (SUP) of which Dietrich was General Secretary. Only one other man rivaled Dietrich's power in government and that was the Chairmen of the Council of Ministers, Sigmund Staufenburg. Sigmund was the equivalent of a Prime Minister and therefore head of government. The council Sigmund led, the Council of Ministers, was Prasidium of the People's Chamber (DRD Legislature). Sigmund and Dietrich were close friends, and therefore there was little rivalry between the head of state and head of government.

As Nicholas came on duty that night he attended the shift change briefing in the security office of the General Secretary's residence. In the briefing were one of the deputies of the Chairman's chief of staff, a junior level officer from the military office of the State Council (a liason office between the military and the head of state), the duty officer from the Wachregiment Felix Dzierzynski (an elite motorized rifle regiment under the command of the MSS), the rest of the night time security detail, and a few staff members. The briefing covered everything from what was available for dinner in the kitchen to security to the general security situation world wide. Of course at the top of the list was the recent outbreak of war between Strathy and Master M.

"Chairmen Gutenburg went to bed at 10 PM and would like to be woken at 5 AM tomorrow morning, Chairmen Staufenburg is currently out of play as he is on his way down to his villa on the coast and has choosen to travel by car. He should arrive around 3:00AM in the morning if he needs to be contacted," and the briefing went on for about an hour. At 11PM the second day shift left and the night shift took over.


Nicholas was enjoying a cup of tea with the commander of the Wachregiment Felix Dzierzynski in the kitchen, while talking with the cook. The Wachregiment Felix Dzeirzynski was an elite motorized rifle regiment, trained by the National People's Army but subordinate to the MSS. Its duties during peacetime included guarding most of the government and party facilities including the Executive Compound at Wandlitz, which housed most of the government's high level leadership and more importantly the command and control bunker just five miles from Wandlitz in Prenden. The bunker had the ability to ride out a nuclear attack and still maintain contact with the outside world. It also had food and provisions to last three months, in emergency these provisions could quickly be increased to an amount that would last six months. The bunker at Prenden was a closely guarded secret that only a few high level government and military officials knew about. Countless drills had shown that MSS could have the Chairmen of the State Council in the bunker within 15 minutes from the residence and within 20 minutes from the capital. With early warning radars giving 30 minutes of warning, they had just enough time. Once a year the drill was carried out with the Chairmen, and once a month the drill was carried out without him. The DRD did not have nuclear weapons, but it wasn't so naive as to think no one would ever use them against the DRD which is why the bunker had been built a Prenden and the DRD had spent billions of dollars over the years on developing an intricate air and space defense system to defend against ballistic missile and air strikes.

The general organization, structure, training, and equipment of the National People's Army though was geared solely towards defense. The National People's Army trained to defend the nation and not on offensive operations. Force projection was minimal as the logistics units of the military were equipped with equipment to transport supplies around the country, not across an ocean. This did offer several advantages though, first and foremost the National People's Army trained where they would fight, in the event of an invasion they would have the upper hand on the enemy in this respect. Another benefit was the military's total defense mentality, all males served in the military for atleast two years when they turned 18. When they graduated from school at 16, they could either go to college or a trade school or join the military, those who didn't join by 18 were called up for a 24 month tour of duty. After completeing their duty they were placed on the inactive reserve list until they turned 25. In addition to this, volunteer civil defense and other paramilitary units exsisted outside the military.

The National People's Army numbered at about 306,300 soldiers, airmen, and sailors. A unique aspect of the National People's Army was that 50,000 of its soldiers were Border Guard Troops and permanently barracked along the border. The Border Guard was an all volunteer force, no draftees had served in it in over 40 years. In addition the 306,300 troops of the National People's Army several other units existed that could defend the country in the event of war. The Ministry for State Security's Wachregiment Felix Dzrierzynski had 11,400 troops trained as an all-volunteer elite mechanized infantry regiment. The People's Police numbered around 80,000 volunteer officers and 177,500 reserve officers who would defend rear areas in time of war. In addition to which the People's Police had the Barracked People's Police unit which numbered around 15,000 volunteer officers and men, they were also trained as a mechanized infantry regiment specializing in counter-terrorism. Also there was the all-volunteer Combat Groups of the Working Class. The Combat Groups of the Working Class numbered around 200,000 members and were an unpaid militia, in the event of war they would guard rear areas from sabotage. Lastly an unarmed Civil Defense unpaid volunteer force of 200,000 could assist with humanitarian aid in war time. In time of war, under total defense, the DRD Government could call upon 990,200 men and women to defend the country. Countless drills had been run over the years, an attempt to fully mobilize the force had never taken place, but it was estimated that the entire force of 990,200 men and women could be mobilized in a weeks weeks time.

As Nicholas finished his second cup of tea, the duty officer from the military aid came in looking rather anxious, clicking his heals and saluting he said, "We need to wake the Chairman, I have an Emergency Action Message from the Ministry of Defense." The aid, a young lieutenant, knew Nicholas rank as a major in the reserves and was saluting out of respect instead of necessity. Nicholas looked at his fellow MSS officer from the Wachregiment and said, "elevate the threat level and lock down the facility." He then motioned for the aid to follow him. This was standard procedure, Emergency Action Messages although normally drills were infact just what their name suggested, messages concerning national security that required immediate action. They normally dealt with serious impending threats to the country, a real one hadn't come through in over 10 years.


Walking past the guards at the Chairman's bedroom door, he and the military aid entered and woke the Chairman. "Mr. Chairman, I have an Emergency Action Message that needs your immediate attention." Chairman Dietrich Gutenburg was still waking up, "what does it say?" The military aid handed it to him, "the country of Master M has declared war on us, since we are part of the CCON," he paused and then continued, "most of the National Defense Council has already been notified and is on their way to Prenden for an emergency meeting, the Chairmen of the Council of Ministers is still out of play but he will be notified when he reaches Rostock. Mr. Chairman we need to move you to Prenden so you can meet with the National Defense Council." As Dietrich got dressed the sound of a helicopter landing on his front lawn could be heard, the helicopter would fly him to Prenden where he would meet with the council and make the appropriate response the Mian declaration of war on the CCON. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Defense and Ministry of the Interior and Ministry of State Security had already begun mobilizing their troops and police officers. The Combat Groups of the Working Class and Civil Defense troops would not be mobilized until the Politburo could be called in along with the Central Committee, most likely the next morning.

[The Master M]

The news from the front was not good – close to half of the attacking force had failed to breach the river, and many of those units that had were unable to reach their objectives, and were forced to retreat back across. Only a small force, around twelve hundred men, remained forward of the Mian lines, cut off in a defensive pocket two kilometres east of the river. Their position was precarious – low on ammunition and supply, they were under constant attack, and in danger of being overwhelmed. The army would launch a counter-attack to rescue them, but it barely had the manpower to defend the existing lines. Supply was also becoming somewhat of a concern, with the enemy navies having wrested superiority naval control from the small Mian taskforce. The airforce was valiantly holding on to it's control of the skies over the island, but was in danger of losing this as well as the enemy forces continued to grow. It was a dark time for the Mian forces on the island.

And then the Ralkovians came; thousands and thousands of them, descending from the skies in their massive transport aircraft, with tanks and other armoured fighting vehicles. The sight of the much respected Ralkovian Death Guard marching from these aircraft filled the weary Mian soldiers behind the lines with new hope, as they knew that the Ralkovian fleet wouldn't be long behind.

The news of the Ralkovian arrival hadn't filtered back to the command centre though – four days of continued shelling had rendered most of the island's communications inoperable. The newly promoted General Frederick Price leaned over a large scale map of the island, with various marks indicating points of interest. Annoyed over the lack of reserves, and at the position he had been left in by Maybury, the General was in, as his men would call it, 'one of his moods'. The first he knew of the Ralkovian arrival was the screeching of brakes outside his command tent – four days of isolation and repeated bombardment had rendered all but the armoured vehicles inoperable – and the arrival of the Ralkovian commander himself.

“And you are?” he began, wiping away some blood from his forehead.

"I am the Glorious Emperor of Ralkovia's Emissary. Dmitiri Grimjaw of the Death Guard Thirteenth Legion."

Weariness gave way to something close to happiness, as relief began seeping through four days of sleep deprivation. “Ralkovian Death Guard?” he began, offering the man his hand. “I wasn't informed we were being reinforced this early.”

"We were specially ordered by the Holy Emperor himself. No declaration of aid has been filed yet, it was decided that the transports carrying the rest of the theatre group would be to vulnerable as they approached the island," the man said, looking around the command centre before starting,"The Glorious Emperor has ordered me and my battle group to the front lines. Fifteen thousand brothers have arrived. The rest of the army will be here shortly. We will need all ports you have available and any extra housing, we only brought enough for four hundred thousand men."

“You have fifteen thousand with you? This news is bloody well timed. Can you deploy your forces to the front immediately? We're under heavy attack here,” he said, gesturing to several places on the map, “and here. We have no reserves.” He motioned to an aide, who handed him a thick manilla folder. After reading, he continued, “We're actually the vanguard of the 7th Army Group, which consists of more than one million men. Unfortunately,” he continued, the frustration in his voice becoming apparent, “High Command decided not to send the rest of the force. So, while we have rations and billeting for more than a million soldiers, we number less than forty-five thousand.”

"That is good, my forces are all centred here," he said pointing at the large Mian airfield. "We currently have a large air deployment heading in from the ocean, they'll conduct sorties along the line. We'll need full access to your airfields," Dmitri said, planning out the tactical turns in his head. "Can you give me a briefing of the current status of the invasion operation?"

“That won't be a problem. You have full access to all of our resources, what is left of them. Well, our initial push into Strathian territory went well – we pushed them to the river with very few casualties on our side. Once we reached the river, our commander was called away elsewhere, and left me in command of what few forces we have here. We attacked across the river, but were beaten back by a sudden onslaught of the enemy, which left twelve hundred of our men cut off here,” he said, pointing to a flag on the map. “We're holding against their attack, but only just, and we lack the forces to rescue our cut off men.”

"Ralkovian air support will be arriving soon. We'll proceed to destroy artillery across this line and then move in to drop napalm and anti-personnel weapons. At which point heavy tanks will puncture lines, here, here and here. Can Mian troops clear out the resistance from there?" the Death Guard said staring at the map.

“Our forces are battered, but still capable. We can attack, but only if you can replace our men on the defensive lines,” the General replied.

"That will be easy enough, once you make the push across the river and secure. We'll handle the rest. The army should arrive within 10 hours."

“We'll begin as soon as your forces are ready.”

[Strathy]

Hellena had been unsually quite for the past few hours. The distant rumble of artillery was all that stopped the men on Strathy's armed forces forgetting that they were in a war zone. General Himms had spent the morning reading reports and looking at maps, the Mian attack had failed to break through the lines in all but one place, and even there, the Mian soldiers were surrounded and were fighting for dear life. After the evening's attack, gas masks had been kept on. It was only at 1300 hours when the all clear was given. A corporal had waled into Himm's tent, and told him that the VX levels were low enough to be safe. Throwing the maps aside, Himms tore off his gas mask, took a huge gulp of fresh air and relaxed.

The Mians hadn't attacked since last night, the whole island seemed so tranquil. And now, with more reinforcements arriving by the hour, surly, the balance was tipping in favour of him. Himms looked out of his tent and saw the latest batch of reinforcements arriving: A Spetsnaz Engineers Company, marching along the path to the main admin area. The CoCN's Joint Special Forces Brigade, otherwise known as Spetsnaz, was not merely an ordinary special forces group. Only the finest troops from the Special Forces Units of member states were selected to try out for Spetsnaz. They went through a year of some of the toughest Special Forces training ever devised by man. The were an élite among élite, their mere presence boosted the morale of the troops enormously. The things a man had to go through to gain the right to wear the covetted blood-red collor tabs and the Spetsnaz cap badge, made them the things of legends.

Himms looked down at his empty sleave and the red Spetsnaz Flash on it. As he walked out of his tent to view the arriving reinfocements, they turned their heads and saw Himms. General Henry Himms, he had achieved the rank of Major in Spetsnaz and was a legend in his own right. There were mumblings in the company; "is that really Himms?". He walked over to the newly arrived company and found their commander: a Fantoan Captain.
"Welcome to our corner of the world. Just think of hell with some bullets, and your nearly there." Himms beamed at the Captain, "I am General Himms, your new CO."
"Hello Sir!" The Captain stood rgidly to attention and saluted stifly. "Captain Bogadesh, reporting for duty, sir!"
"At ease man. Tell your men to set up their accomodation, stow their gear and then report to the duty officer at 1630."
"Yes sir!" The Fantoan Captain ran off to his men, shouting orders in his own language.

As Himms returned to his tent, he poured himself a good measure of Whisky, sat down and for the first time in over a week, was able to relax. More troops had arrived, even the air group was at full strength again.

---

Back in New Glasgow, things were not going too well. The Defence Commissariat was a whirlwind of activity. Government officials and Army officers ran to and fro, carrying documents of varying importance. Through the chaos, strode Defence Commissar Julius Whitburn: A tall, slender man with short, iron grey hair. His physical appearance was nothing too frightening, but his cold, icy blue eyes could reduce the most hardened of war veterans to quivering wrecks.

As he made his way to the main conference chamber, crowds parted, rather than get in his way, a young adjutant even fell down the stairs trying to get out of the way. As he reached the large, oak panelled doors that lead to the conference room, two guards snapped to attention and opened the doors.

As he entered, the 12 high ranking officers from various branches of the military stood up. He motioned for them to sit down, and then followed suit. He pulled a large red briefcase onto the table, the others quickly followed.

Whitburn cleared his throat: “Gentlemen, I trust you have all read the various dossiers and reports that were given to you last night, so I’d like to keep this as brief as I can. Yeseterday morning the Field Marshal received a declaration of War from Abruzi. This declaration was also followed by the mass movement of troops through out the Gholgoth region.
“Intelligence in the area states that Abruzian troops have not yet been mobilised, but security has been heightened. There are also reports of Ralkovian troops moving out of the region. This data is roughly four days old, so they could be on Hellena very soon, Gentlemen.”
One of the Generals broke in. “What do you mean four days old? This is ridiculous, how are we supposed to work with intelligence that old.”
The Commissar turned to the General; “General Anton, due to heightened security in that particular region, we have been working with very rudimentary methods to avoid detection. We had forty-two agents in Gholgoth a week ago. After this, five were shot dead, three ‘disappeared’ and eight of them committed suicide to avoid capture. We have no choice but to use this information.”

The briefing lasted another hour, before the next interruption. A secretary ran into the room, “Defence Commissar, Deutschteirgaten has declared war on the Gholgothian nations involved.”
Whitburn took the document and read it through. “Thank you, Miss, you may go now. Please inform the Field Marshal.” With that, the Secretary left the room and the meeting went on. Naval strategies were discussed, air defence and army movements were also discussed, but atop of the agenda was Hellena. News had reached the Strathan Defence Commissariat of the recent victory over Mian forces. There was much discussion of what to do next. There were talks of advances, annihilation of Mian forces on the island. But that was all changed by the next interruption:

The doors burst open once again, the same secretary came through again, this time pale faced and shaking. “Ralkovian forces have landed on Hellena, sir.”
The Commissar took the document and read over it, checking the figures and radar data, checking for any signs of error. Once he was satisfied this was very real, he ushered the panic stricken secretary from the room; her son was on Hellena now.

The Commissar turned to the conference room once more: “Gentlemen, Ralkovian forces have launched a massed invasion fleet toward Hellena, hundreds of thousands of Ralkovian troops are now landing. Gentlemen, I propose we put Night Sky on Stand-by, any objections?”
No hands went up.
“Very well, Himms must be contacted, I will talk to the Field Marshal. Gentlemen, I think we should get moving.”
With that, the conference was adjourned and the various staff left to ready themselves.

---

Back on Hellena, the once calm day had turned to chaos. The line was being reinforced once more, artillery had opened up again on the Mian lines and the bunkers and trenches on the Strathan side of the river were being strengthened.

Himms got to his command tent an picked up the phone, and got a hold of the Air Group Commander. “Group Captain, I need you to get all those new planes in the sky as quickly as possible, we have some more guests and I don’t want them in our airspace.”

As Himms ran around issuing orders, a young signals corporal arrived with a message from Strathan High Command.

General Himms [stop] Hold Hellena at all costs [stop] Keep a watch for the night sky [stop]

Himms read the last two words over and over again. Surely Strathan High Command didn’t mean that, it couldn’t be true. Himms looked at the document one last time and handed it back to the corporal.

“Corporal, burn this, no-one else can read that.”

Himms went back to his tent, sat down and poured himself another whisky.

[Peace for men]

The Red Army soldiers cowered in their trenches the fresh faced conscripts stared out across the no-mans land at the enemy soldiers that had been trapped on their side of the river. "Brave comrades! The mother land calls upon you to lead us forwards and back to the banks of the river!" The deep dooming voices of the commissars began to ring out across the line making some conscripts visibly jump. "Over there stands our enemy! Today we throw them back across the river and reinforce our line! So forwards brave comrades! FORWARDS!" The conscripts sat in their trenches and refused to move. "CHARGE YOU COWARDS! URA!" At this several soldiers jumped up and began to charge forwards and soon a trickle became a flood as the trenches emptied and the Red Army conscripts charged at the Main line some dropping into cover to fire their rifles others charging with bayonets fixed. "URA!!" The commissars continued to shout from behind them moving slowly forwards as enemy fire began to tear into the conscripts in front of them. But even with the withering fire the conscripts continued to charge forwards some stopping to fire whilst others made it to the enemy lines and began to engage in hand to hand combat. "End this Bulge in our lines!" Came the commissars cries.

After ten minutes all the conscripts lay dead or hiding in craters taking pot shots at the enemy positions. "I told you never send boys to do mens jobs." Captain Lik was a war hero in Peace for Men being the highest ranked tank ace ever to enter the Red Army. He now sat with Major Jonah of the 1st Red Army Infantry regiment who was staring at the scene of destruction and mass murder in front of him. "They killed at least some of the enemy remember that Lik. Anyway there's still some survivors I can put them into some proper units if they survive the day you may advance with your tanks and the mechanized infantry now Lik." Jonah shook hands with the captain who grinned as he slid down into his tank hull and radioed the advance to his units. The ground shook as the fifteen T-100 orge tanks broke out onto the open ground followed closely by twenty APCs. As the unit reached with five hundred metres the killing began the first shot was fired by Captain Liks tank and soon all the other orges opened up and the APCs dislodged their infantry onto the ground to make a steady advance through cover to meet with and destory the enemy occupying the salient on the COCN side of the river.

This attack was repeated in the same style on the opposite flank of the Main bulge.

[Ralkovia]

I am Ralkovia, I am the living nation, all power is derived through me. I am incorruptible, I am perfect. I am Judge, I am Emperor, but most importantly, I am G-d. The Death Guard are merely my tools. They live for me. And they most certainly enjoy dying for me.
- Emperor Joshua Cornelius Vi Raskov II

The Haggler's, huge electronic warfare jets set to work, jamming Strathian and Peace for Men SAM sites as well as radar for the Strathian and PfM aircraft. The Hagglers would also begin to jam the enemy radio, killing off enemy communications. The Hagglers working in conjuction with the three "Golden Eye" AWACs would begin bombarding every radar frequency the enemy was using with multiple jammers covering through in a complete blanket jam. This jamming would effectively destroy any mutual communication by radar that the enemy was using. SAM sites, radar stations, anything like that would grind to a halt.

While the SAM sites were jammed they would be absolutely defenseless against the ensuing HARM missile launch. High-speed Anti-Radiation Missile would follow the enemy radar right back to the radar stations. These radar stations and SAMs wouldn't have knowledge of the HARM until it was much to late, in a single attack the vast majority of Strathian and PfM anti-air would be wiped out. Seventy HARM missiles were launched from the bellies of the Hagglers to enemy radar stations.

This was only the first prong of the attack. Taking advantage of what must have been the massive confusion of the PfM aircrafts, the ninety eight Klaus air superiority fighters advanced forward. They began targeting the enemy fighters launching close to two hundred air to air SPARROW anti-air missiles. The advance would easily break through the enemy air fleet, taking special attention to target any special planes the PfM had.

While the PfM and Strathians were distracted with the growing number of missiles being launched to take out their air superiority, twelve Close in Air Support planes quickly closed in on the enemy tank advance against the Mian forces that had been trapped. They had already started launching anti-tank missiles and targeting the APC's with their forward mounted gatling guns. Depleted Uranium love would penetrate the APCs and tanks easily. The PfM advance would be crushed quickly as the Ralkovian planes cut through the tank support they had. Quickly though, some of the CAS planes broke off from the rest of the squadron. They had turned around and began targeting all enemies on the ground, cutting open a pathway for the Mian troops to retreat through. They also didn't waste their opportunity to drop napalm on top of the enemy lines, one of the CAS even followed down the enemy line spitting out his entire stock of gatling gun munitions and bombs.

It became quite simple what they were doing, softening the enemy line up for the Ralkovian attack.

[Peace for men]

"Missile three and four away!" The mobile sam launchers slowly lifted up their thermal targetting systems locking on. The rockets flew off the rails soaring into the air to counter the enemy air attack. The heat seeking targetting systems locking onto the targets and heading straight for the enemy rockets and craft.

Out of the the hundred and fifty SAM units the Red Army had deployed when the enemy blanket attak began only sixty five remained functioning using the old heat seeking systems instead of the newer RADAR tracking system. Across the airwaves Red Army units switched into the isolated frequency a specialist frequency designed to counter an anti-radio attack just like this. But sadly the link could only work for PFM units meaning the Red Army was now deaf to any cries for help from the Strathians except by runner.

Meanwhile though the enemy air assualt annihalted the APC and Tanks leading the assualt on the Main forces the infantry quickly withdrawing back to their lines as naplam fell around them, "Secondary positions! Secondary positions! General's orders! Fall back to secondary positions!" The orders rang out from radio operators and then sergeants and officers alike the Red Army lifting up and pulling back knowing what would be coming soon. The slowly burning tanks and APC's sat on the ground near the Main positions the bodies of the dead lay with them. "Fuck this!" One man shouted as his unit vanished into the forest.

---------

Back at the fleet

"Sir we have lost a total of 85 SAM site to the enemy missile attack. Seems several of them had clustered up into AA batteries and when the missiles hit well it wasn't a nice sight. So far we have no reports on RADAR sites seeming they belong to the Strathians at this time. Enemy plane units seem to be the main cause of the black out between our forces. But we're not sure it may be a land based blocker causing this but at this time our planes are grounded as the Techies were unable to kit them out with the iso freq. Other than that no other news General Spyrik sir." The young intelligance sergeant saltued then she turned and left the room. Spyrik rubbed his temples, "This war has gone down hill fast. Send Kane his orders Spetsnaz are to implment Operation Broadsword priority targets."

[Drazcj]

The office was freezing, but he didn't take notice. Sitting proud and upright in the chair, he glanced sideways at the star on his lapel. Five years as a desk jockey, and then this comes along, he thought to himself. The Drazian Defence Ministry had been hectic for some time now. When news came of the attack on Strathy, reports were sketchy at first, it sounded like a brushfire war over some godforsaken patch of land on the other side of the region. But before we knew it nation after nation threw their might behind the struggle for Helena. It was quiet in the room now, footsteps echoed off the mahogany panel walls as the defence minister stepped out.
'Major Strezan, pleased to meet you'
came the voice with the outstretched hand.
'I'm told your forces are currently the closest to the border?'
'Yes Minister, may I enquire why I've been summoned here?'

The Minister shifted uneasily, looking as if he was about to blurt out an obscenity.
'With the escalation in the battle for control of Hellena, and the attack on our allies Strathy, we feel it is prudent to send a small force to assist. If Hellena falls, who is to say Strathy won't follow? Then what, the CCON? We must stand with our comrades in their time of need. Our forces will be despatched to the coast, in preparation for a naval assault with the aim of reinforcing our allies positions on the island. Peace for Men has already sent in a sizeable force, however the enemy is resilient, numerous, and well trained. We are counting on you Major. The Defence Council is voting in two weeks on the issue of sending more reinforcements, but we first need to get a picture of the situation on the island. Your orders are here (he hands the Major a sealed red envelope). I will not pretend to be pleased Major, but hopefully we can avoid a regional war spilling onto our lands'

And with that, the stage was set. The Major saluted briskly, before leaving the building and boarding the jeep that would take him to his headquarters, four hours away. Plenty of time to think anyway, he scoffed to himself.

[Drazcj]

'Get those goddamn crates secured!' shouted Petty Officer Makovitch from the main deck. 'And get those troops under decks now!'.

The transport DPN Malvina was bustling with activity. Cranes loaded trucks and ammo onto the deck, while sailors waited eagerly to ferry it off to some storage area below. Orders crackled over Personal Radios periodically, and officers with clipboards patrolled the area, checking off what could be accounted for.

Aboard the missile destroyer DPN Valiant, it was a different story. Admiral of the task force Diviyn Crovsky carefully placed the red telephone into it's receiver, and read the logistics report just handed to him by a young officer.

'Transport ships Malvina, Archangel, Patriosa, and Exodus are loaded. Awaiting orders from HIGHCOM. Escorts Valiant, Solace, and Golan ready to depart, will move on orders.'

Crovsky didn't like it one bit. They still had no idea of the naval situation around the island, and with the heavily packed transports they were slow, large, targets.

'Very well, get me a line to HIGHCOM, I'll inform them of our situation myself.'

The next day would be crucial. They needed to make the crossing to Hellena as quickly and silently as possible, to avoid unwanted attention. A successful landing would only be a prelude to anything else, and the Drazan People's Army would have their work cut out for them over the next few weeks.