The Gay War (IC, Closed)

[New Edom]

OOC Thread
Note: I have tried to put the most pertinent parts of the stuff involving the war here, which includes posts by other players including Damoclea and TECT.

The Idle Hill of Summer
On the idle hill of summer,
Sleepy with the flow of streams,
Far I hear the steady drummer
Drumming like a noise in dreams.
Far and near and low and louder
On the roads of earth go by,
Dear to friends and food for powder,
Soldiers marching, all to die.

East and west on fields forgotten
Bleach the bones of comrades slain,
Lovely lads and dead and rotten;
None that go return again.
Far the calling bugles hollo,
High the screaming fife replies,
Gay the files of scarlet follow:
Woman bore me, I will rise.
- by A. E. Housman (1859-1936)

Two nations went to war, supposedly over the right for homosexuals to marry. New Edom, deeply religious, afflicted by a long running Anarchist insurgency, faced across the seas Damoclea, a violent nation bound by a Marxist usurpation. It began as so many conflicts have begun with a letter making a declaration:

This message is to the Allied States of New Edom, from the Politburo and the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Damoclea and the Presidium and Council of Commissars of the Soviet Popular Republic of Damoclea:

Because of your reactionary policy regarding Communists and homosexuals, depriving them of their social freedoms under the aegis of yet another religious superstition, this one called Christianity, and its non-existent god, the Party and State have adopted a new policy toward Christians in Damoclea. For every homosexual interned in Edom, a Christian will be sent to the gulags. For every homosexual stoned, a Christian will be shot. For every Communist forcibly stripped by mobs of hysterical religious fanatics, a Christian in Damoclea will be forced to perform "community service" to the undersexed men and women of the armed, police, and security forces. Consider Damoclean Christians no longer to be Damoclean nationals, as their citizenship is forfeit, but to be hostages to your co-operation with the Revolution and social justice.

Workers of the world, unite! Cast off the yoke of oppression! You have nothing to lose but your chains!

Sincerely,
First Secretary Thales

And with a response…

FROM THE MINISTRY OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS
To First Secretary Thales of Damoclea

I am advised by a number of political authorities, including the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of the Interior, the Governor of Bara Province and the Ethnarch of Harbourtown that there has been no deliberate or even implied accusation of the Communist Party of New Edom for the bombing attack on the hospital, store and re-education center this week. The culprits are with good reason believed by this government to be supporters of the Anarchist insurgency.

Therefore I am writing to you with a single question: does your government support this insurgency and terrorism?

If not, then we will simply leave you with our assurance that all registered political parties, including the Communist Party, are to be protected and regarded as law abiding citizens, and that this mob attack on the Party HQ in Harbourtown is deplored at all levels of government. While the current interim government does not see eye to eye with Communism, our willingness to cooperate in Gloria Regis even to the point of it being to the possible detriment of high ranking military officers should demonstrate our honesty in this regard and should be sufficient to retract your threats on your Christian population. In short: you protect your people, we will protect ours.

If so on the other hand, and you are supporting Anarchist uprising and terrorism in our country, then you are officially going to be warned. But naturally we await your answer.

sincerely,
Benjamin Kent,
Minister of Foreign Affairs

Proletarian City, Damoclea
In a public reaction to the letter from Foreign Minister Kent, First Secretary Thales, now also Premier of Damoclea, spoke at last to the Congress of Workers' and Peasants' Soviets, the nominal legislature of that country and little more than a formal gathering of Party hacks to rubber-stamp whatever the Politburo and the Central Committee wanted, with no serious debate or opposition permitted.

"Comrades, I have received a response from the capitalist, imperialist theocrats ruling New Edom, and it shows clearly that they are more concerned with protecting themselves and their religious brethren from revolutionary justice than in providing more social justice, progress, and liberation to the oppressed masses and minorities of their country!

"They claim that the assault on our fraternal socialist comrades was a simple case of popular upheaval, but we all know better. No ordinary worker or peasant has any vested interest in destroying his own champions. Only the capitalist robber barons and their petty bourgeois minions in the clergy have such an interest and a stake in the destruction of our fraternal socialist comrades, anywhere! Only by seducing the gullible and superstitious into believing the repugnant dogmas of the End Times Church and its confederates in the other Edomite sects have they succeeded in whipping up a frenzy of blood and fire, aimed at the very vanguard which seeks to liberate them from the yoke of the capitalist oppressors!

"Comrades, let there be no doubt. We disapprove of the Hooded Man not because he used death camps, which was more consideration and opportunity to survive revolutionary justice than the vile Edenists truly deserved, but because, like all revolutionary anarchist fools, he rejects and seeks to bypass the necessary phase of socialism which must precede true Communism! He means well, but he is naive. Only by a temporary dictatorship of the proletariat can a true people's democracy be achieved, comrades!

"They want to complain of rape? Let them! They want to complain of religious persecution? Let them! In the end, their whining tongues will be silenced forever by the rifles and bullets of our execution squads! In the end, they will be put to the wall as they deserve! No man can be an effective Marxist unless he is also a Leninist! Only through the purging fires of the International Revolution of the Working Class can a stateless, classless utopia emerge!

"Let the fires of the Revolution spread further throughout Edom, under the guidance of the aggrieved and persecuted revolutionary vanguard there, and let blood as red as that of our flag flow through the streets unless the last capitalist, aristocrat, and priest is too dead to oppress the workers of New Edom!

"I urge this upon those comrades in New Edom who feel pressure to compromise or conform! Do not relent, comrades! Stand tall, on your feet rather than on your knees, and bring their idol and his mass-priests lower than they have ever imagined! We shake our fists at their dead, non-existent, man-made god and his clergy! We call his church to account for its crimes against humanity!

"Now is the time for direct action! The enemy of the worker and peasant is weak. He has a bloody nose and a black eye! He has been bled dry by death and destruction! He is straining and stretched thin from his imperialist adventures overseas! Now, you should strike and hit him hard! Now, you should rise up and seize power for yourselves and the People! Make it a people's war against the capitalists of your land and their clerical puppets!

"Know that we stand with you in spirit, and if we have the chance to lend you aid, we will do so, Comrades, only do this now! It is your solemn duty as true sons and daughters of the Revolution and disciples of Marx and Lenin! Yes, there will be travail and blood, as with all births, but in the end, you will deliver to posterity and to history a new, socialist, Soviet Edom, and you will toss the fundamentalists and their cohorts onto the dung heap of history!"

The response of the Congress of Workers' and Peasants' Soviets of Damoclea rose in full-throated acclamation and a standing ovation of true ideologues and fanatics, fully convinced that the Revolution would soon spread to New Edom (the focus of the speech) as well as to Arcologia (not mentioned). The latter was the "soft underbelly" of Cornellia and the Party's activities there were meant to be an open secret, so that to the ignorant, it was just a popular socialist uprising, but their comrades in Arcologia would know better, of course. Being good Trotskyites, they were committed to exporting the Revolution, whatever it took.

In short order, they all broke out into the Internationale, singing it on their feet as they dreamed of the Revolution coming to the oppressed workers and peasants of Cornellia at last!

Arise, the workers of all nations!
Arise, oppressed of the earth!
For justice thunders condemnation:
A better world's in birth!
It is time to win emancipation,
Arise, you slaves, no more in thrall!
The earth will rise on new foundations:
We, who were nothing, shall be all!
Forward, brothers and sisters,
And the last fight let us face;
The Internationale
Unites the human race!
Forward, brothers and sisters,
And the last fight let us face;
The Internationale
Unites the human race!

We see through their disinformation:
Designs to turn us into war.
But soon, the soldiers in formation
Will break ranks and fight no more.
And if those cowards think it's their right
To sacrifice us to their dream,
They'll see the power of our own might;
It's time to end the old regime.
Forward, brothers and sisters,
And the last fight let us face;
The Internationale
Unites the human race!
Forward, brothers and sisters,
And the last fight let us face;
The Internationale
Unites the human race!

Just we, the workers of the world-wide,
The mighty army of labor,
To own the planet have a true right -
But the parasites — never!
For too long we've endured exploitation,
Too long we've been the vulture's prey.
Farewell to days of condemnation!
The red dawn brings a bright new day!
Forward, brothers and sisters,
And the last fight let us face;
The Internationale
Unites the human race!
Forward, brothers and sisters,
And the last fight let us face;
The Internationale
Unites the human race!


Palace of Justice, Fineberg, New Edom

His personal aides had been expressing some concern about what was being called the Damoclean Decision. But the President smiled at them.

“I’ve a duty to my countrymen, when it comes to brass tacks,” said Perrin Pahath-Moab, sitting behind his desk in his office in the Palace of Justice, “And while I’ve been given powers beyond anyone but late King Mark, there’s a catch. It doesn’t matter who proposes I’ve responsibility. So cabinet meetings Legislature sessions church conclaves and royal councils—whatever it stops with me. So when it comes to crossing the line, no question of it the job is mine, because I’m the President and I know best. History is gonna put the target on my chest. So yeah it’s mine, but don’t be fooled—this is how New Edom chose to be ruled.”

“Shall I send them in then?” Commander Rautio said. Perrin Pahath-Moab nodded, and reached down to stroke the wiry fur on the ears of his Airedale terrier, Rover.

And in they came; Heavy jawed dark skinned Benjamin Kent, stocky compact General Benajah, balding striking Dr. Nicanor, tall broad shouldered broad bellied General Adams, General Zelek with his dueling scar and graying hair and goatee, dark haired smoking Sidney Harcourt.

“Ah, gentlemen, you know why we are here. We’ve not much time, and quite a problem here.” Perrin said.

“Yes, did you listen to that howling man, the Premier they call Thales? Anarchists are bombing and it’s at us that he wails.” Benjamin Kent said, shaking his head.

“He’s dangerous.” Sidney Harcourt remarked, stubbing his cigarette into an ashtray.

“Yes, he’s dangerous,” agreed General Zelek.

“But we’re concerned about the issue of international Anarchism…the pro-homosexuals…” began Dr. Nicanor.

“No. We need a more permanent solution to our problem.” Perrin said, shaking his head.

“So…what should we do about all the pro-Anarchists? They call to the people to rise against our rule.” Harcourt said rhetorically. “I mean they bomb hospitals, schools and civilians—even our Communists think that they’re cruel.”

“And if we don’t curb this, the ETC will rise and grow powerful as the citizens see the success that they’ve won.” Dr. Nicanor pointed out. “After that incident in Gloria Regis, our plans to remove them will all come undone.”

“And I see Burden returning, ruining all that we’ve fought hard to gain.” Perrin said, looking each of them in the eye in turn. “I see death and destruction, the nation in tatters, in ruins again.”
“But then how can we deal with this Anarchist terror?” exclaimed Nicanor in frustration. “They’re like a phantom, so who do we strike?”

“Gentlemen, you must see the problem—the ones here at home are losing their will. We’ll look past the immediate difficulties to see its their lifeline we kill. So we strike at the heart of those who support them, who stand on their side. Their fight will end here in Edom when their morale and supply lines have died.” Perrin then drew his dagger sidearm, rose and rolled out a map of Damoclea and plunged a dagger into it. The men in the room were all transfixed, their eyes began to light up. “We take the conflict to the heart of the enemy. Pick an example. Just like when you go to a new school—you pick the bully and go for him, and the others will learn fast enough to leave you alone.”

“Harcourt, you find out all you can about them; Zelek, you, Kent, and Fish work together, get their neighbor, Lyscania, to support us as a FOB. I understand that they themselves have a negligible military now, so that gives us a good excuse. Nicanor, prepare a case for the WA and our more democratic and peace loving allies in case they carp a bit. General Benajah, General Adams—I want an expeditionary force of 100,000 troops, with appropriate ships and air force to be prepared to move to Lyscania.”

The men in the room were stunned.

“You…are actually going on the offensive?” said Zelek. This was astonishing, New Edom had not done this in 2 generations.

“We are, gentlemen. We are. You have your orders.” Perrin said. “Let me remind you—you play ball with me, and I’ll play ball with you. You do your bit, and I’ll do mine. We’re all part of the same team, in a fight for freedom. Work hard, train hard, play hard, and play the game!”

[New Edom]

New Edom

At the Department of Defense, tables of organization and equipment were confirmed, operational orders for supplies, logistics, and the movement and transport of thousands upon thousands of men and women were begun. On paper and on computer and over phones this was fairly straightforward. In practice it meant often interrupting training exercises, halting the commencement of other orders, re-routing supply orders to units that would need them for resupply, and shuffling units, ships and planes around. General Adams felt his bowels acting up badly because of it but grimly pushed on. General Hesperinus' beautiful mistress stormed out for about half an hour before she realized she'd forgotten her purse in the house, so furious was she at the General's constant busyness. Some junior officers were cursed so foully they wept when they messed things up resulting in paperwork and physical bottlenecks.

For not since the Great Cornellian War had so many New Edomite personnel and vehicles moved at once with a purpose like this, and the Chiefs of Staff themselves had never done it before. However they were blessed in certain areas. Most of them had come through years of stress and warfare, and knew how to be calm and survive the storms that war threw at them. They knew how to delegate, how to eliminate, how to side step issues. Because of this they began seeing it all as an opportunity to learn in the field and develop stratagems.

For the actual operational command, the naval contingent would be in command at sea and for all sea operations; the army for all ground and air operations. This was resented somewhat--but only somewhat. The chief thing was to get there.

However, as stated at this stage it was mostly on paper and computer. Little was said to anyone; security kept at the height possible. None of the troops were really told where they were going yet lest they gossip, so many of them had heard that they were conducting support of COIN exercises. Soldiers yawning as they got onto trains or vehicles, onto planes or began loading up equipment and receiving loads of ammunition, BDUs, rations, med kits, and so on for the most part had no idea what was even going on. Nor did sailors fueling up vessels, doing equipment checks and loading up missile and autocannon racks; nor did Air Force personnel testing planes' readiness and being ordered to make sure that ground support units were prepared for transport. "In case of Anarchist attack," they were warned, "So take this damned seriously."

The reserves were being encouraged to sign up for bonus pay. "This is in case during a state of emergency you should be required to maintain your active duty service and so that your families will benefit. Don't let your families miss out on the chance of your bonus pay!" warned NCOs, themselves kept in the dark.

In Fineberg, General Perrin Pahath-Moab sat on a bench under a gallery at Betharan Palace and read papers given to him by the Department of Defense. His dog, Rover, panting happily nearby pricked up his ears and looked alertly into the garden, where he saw nectar feeding bats coming out for the evening, and with a quiet growl moved quickly out towards them.

Proletarian City, Damoclea
Premier Thales, President Hipparchus (nominal head of state), Foreign Commissar Atalanta, War Commissar Daedalus, State Security Chief Xanthises, and Interior Minister Merope, the Defense Council of the Politburo, met in closed session in a secret facility formerly used by the now banned Order of Violet when it was (briefly) the state religion. They had several plans to lay out, in case of Edomite reprisals.

"There is every reason to believe that these Edomites might retaliate, comrades, given some of the statements that they have made of late, as well as their past actions in Dengali and Hutanija, as well as their savage reprisals against our misguided Anarchist comrades. What form of retaliation they might attempt, I do not know, but let me suggest something that might dissuade them. We should send teams of our own to hit them first.

"We have a base of operations in Arcologia now. Through that base, we can send a few strike teams to engage in suicide missions, and yes, that's what they are, to attack in a kamikaze style key buildings in Fineberg and other locations. May I suggest the Grittonian Ubermall, a key symbol of the hypocritical decadence of the sanctimonious Christian fascists who rule that land? Maybe a palace or church, something like that. Certainly more of these accursed camps of theirs!

"We don't need a lot of fuel for these flights. The pilots will suicide themselves in attacking key targets in Fineberg, Harbourtown, Sterry, etc. Instead of commercial jets, squadrons of Learjets, all targeting the same locations. If enough of them get through, we can make them panic, possibly drive away investors at a key moment, cause them to do things that might anger the international community as a result, such as killing all homosexuals, that sort of thing. Drive away some of their friends and allies, or at least give them a cruel choice, not to mention create fear that this could happen to them as well. With any luck, we can disrupt any war plans of theirs while we're at it," Xanthises proposed.

"What about practical aid to the Anarchists, to the Hooded Man?" Atalanta inquired.

"Not practical. They're toast, anyway. Besides, why should we want to really help folks like that? We raised a fuss to show revolutionary solidarity, but we all know that the Anarchist cause is contrary to the precepts of Marxist-Leninism. No, far better to create chaos, in hopes that perhaps any true Communists in that apparently revisionist so-called Communist Party there will seize the opportunity to overthrow this nickel-plated Boy Wonder and his pet princes. From what I can tell, there's a shaky coalition between those folks and those End-Times cultists and other fools in that silly collection of Christian Democrats and Social Democrats they call the 'Free Congress.' Maybe we can drive a wedge between them as well. Start a whole new civil war. Wouldn't that be grand?" Daedalus agreed with Xanthises.

"Indeed, a Communist Edom is our goal, not an Anarchist one. They want to 'liberate' us, and well, the feeling is mutual. If our plans bear fruit, no invasion will ever come at all," Thales spoke up, settling the issue. When the Boss spoke, that was it.

"Let those cultists and their cohorts get a taste of our kind of re-education for a change. See how they like it!" Merope laughed in accord with the Premier, which cause the lot of them to burst out in chuckles.

"Make the right phone calls and find good comrades, then, willing to sacrifice themselves. Since we have no virgins to offer them in Paradise, make sure that their last hours are spent in a little rewarding debauchery. Get their minds off their doom and what they're about to do. Just no drugs that can fuck up their plans," Xanthises recommended.

"Let me handle that, Comrades. I'm the ribbon cutter around here and in charge of all such festivities," Hipparchus suggested.

"Agreed, Comrade. Do your thing. Let's do ours. We all have our part to play in this policy of bringing a whole new definition of terror to Edom," Thales approved.

"One thing more, though. Should we deny this or claim responsibility?" Atalanta wondered, for obvious reasons.

"Denial takes away the sense of shock and awe. No, let's be upfront that it was us. They're already planning to attack us, from what we can tell, so why not just show them how hard we can strike them in their own backyard?" Daedalus banged his fist on the table, grinning like the savage within.

"Absolutely, Comrade Commissar. Alright, this session is over. We've made our decision, have we not?" Thales concluded the meeting of the Defense Council at last.

Fourteen hours later

The units had already begun their preparations for flight, having been briefed by their superiors in the State Security Agency. With any luck, they could really wreak havoc in New Edom. Twenty-four Learjets, mostly left over from the brief Violetist regime of Lycaon (he was an avid collector of expensive aircraft, a serious drain on the national budget) were put to use, the last thing that one might expect from a socialist Damoclea, these symbols of capitalism. They would have to refuel just enough to make it to their targets: the Ubermall, the harbor in Sterry, the End Times' Church headquarters, the Fineberg Times, the National Legislature, both Palaces, and the Lookinghaven Standard. The only reason that the universities were to be spared was that there was some hope that enough radical students might revolt, given the opportunity.

Given that these were the only Learjets left in the country, the rest having been sold or cannibalized for parts, this was likely a one-time effort. Even partial success would surely shake up the tribal kingdom of these Obeds and their unlikely Free Congress bedfellows. Enough confusion, and the Revolution might happen in spite of things.

So the planes were cleared for takeoff, and each of the forty-eight pilots and co-pilots knew what to expect. Not even the specially arranged pleasures that they enjoyed (at the expense of some political prisoners, Christians, Violetists, etc.) could ultimately divert them from their assignments. It would take hours of flight to reach their targets, but when they struck, they would go down in history......in flames. That was the only immortality that existed at all. God didn't exist, nor Satan, nor Heaven, nor Hell. Certainly not Violet. That was all religious hocus-pocus, nothing more. This was their true hope for eternal life.....to be posthumous Heroes of Soviet Damoclea, awarded the Order of Thales.

[New Edom]

Terror Time

Soundtrack Moment
Betharan Palace

Now and then, King James II liked to sit and quietly do word search games. He enjoyed such light gaming...playing games like Ludo, word find, word searches, word jumbles helped pass the time without requiring much of him.

In many ways the King was the architect of the modern Edomite economy, along with Prince Philip Tubal-Cain, Benjamin Kent, Sif Finnhald and William Touchstone, but he was the one who had really begun modernizing things. He was often tired lately but had planned a few holidays for himself now that things were moving forward.

He had made arrangements for a number of royal marriages, and felt generally pleased with all of them...save for that of his daughter Mara. His jewel, his beloved darling, and he had only made her unhappy. This grieved him, and he wanted to put it to rights. And because of this he had resolved to have a serious conversation with her, and had written a letter to her opening the conversation.

There was a knock on the door, and Philip Tubal-Cain, his brother-in-law, was there. He smiled warmly. "Philip, is everything ready?" They were planning on attending a concert that afternoon. Not that he was particularly keen on classical music, but there was a really lovely mezzo-soprano that Count Falk had told him he'd find really pleasing as a client in so many ways...he he felt he was owed something special. And it was for charity, raising money for the orphans of the "Evacuations" in Bara by the Anarchists. And he had been briefed by the President of the Council that the war should be almost won. About time they had something to celebrate again.

Hillel, Lookinghaven Province

The Prophet Burden, standing at the podium in the End Times Mega-Church, which was almost as big as a stadium, holding thousands of the faithful, raised his hands.
"My dear brothers and sisters," he said in his deep and resonant voice.
"God did not create the world in a random and thoughtless way, but with order. Order in how things were created. We have been told by evolutionists that their science refutes this...yet what do they say about the ages of the world? Do they not say that first the world's firmament was created, then the atmosphere, the waters, the most humble forms of life, and increasingly the most complex? And does not the Bible say likewise?
"Friends, we are often called foolish fanatics by those who oppose us, who do not recognize the intense education and reason taught to all who are in the Elder Brotherhood. Let them come and debate science with us first, before we accept their condescension!
"And so brothers they seek to disarm us against those most pernicious of doctrines of Anarchism, Communism, and Feminism. But I am about to divulge to you today of how these atheistic faiths undermine our very culture, our very society, and lay it barren and open to wiles of the Enemy!"

"The most pernicious of these is feminism. Feminism on the surface is merely fairness--the desire to see women have the vote, be paid well for work they do, have the right to determine whether or not they wish to marry or follow a career." He smiled. "You see, all these things are fair, are they not? So why does feminism pose a threat to us?"

"For let us make no mistake, feminists will say if you disagree with them that for arbitrary reasons--arbitrary reasons! Simply for the sake of some genetic material and hormonal effects upon the body that women and those who support them will be attacked, defamed, accused and denied for arbitrary reasons, and that women above all others in the world are persecuted!" he said, raising a large blunt fist.

Fineberg, New Edom

Catalina and Rachel had reached the stadium's entrance and were showing their identification to the guards when they heard noises filling the sky--air raid sirens going off, and a screaming sound they had never heard in the air, at first they were looking around for the nearest shelter when suddenly they heard another woman screaming, "Look! Look up there!" as a plane went howling down out of the sky--not towards the airport but shockingly slamming down into the downtown area and shaking the very air with its blow...followed by another coming down, the people in the crowd screaming in horror. "Get to shelter!" shouted one of the guards.

Catalina and several of the other women went into a frenzy. "My children are in there!" shouted Catalina, not caring that the guard was bigger, that he had a rifle, that he looked ready to use the butt of it to smash her back, she got right into his face with other mothers around her, a fury of naked women with blazing eyes staring up at him.

"Let them go," said a corporal, stepping up. "Reassemble here with your children--do NOT stop to pack, understand?" he said sharply.

Catalina felt almost blind with tears. "Thank you..." she found herself running forward even as she heard sirens going off all over the city.

At the Green Palm Cafe, people were running out onto the side walk, and two young women, Rosa and Gabriella, stared up, and a man, Emil, a waiter, stepped out and shaded his hand over his face. "My God...my God!" he exclaimed. Debris was falling from the sky, whirling and suddenly the patrons of the cafe yelled in horror, Emil shoving two of the nearest patrons down as a huge piece of smoking metal slammed down onto the street with terrific force. A ricochet went flying whizzing towards them and Rosa felt herself spattered with something, and began to shriek as she saw the ruin of her best friend falling in a meaty slapping heap to the pavement.


Silver River Air Force Base

Air Defense Command's senior general was in Fineberg giving a briefing, and so it fell to her deputy, Brigadier-General Uzziel Samson, to receive reports and respond to them. It had been established that their chief mission concern at the moment was possible incursions by Carpathia and Moldova, by the Neo-Byzantine Empire, and by smugglers attempting to bring in support for the Anarchists.

Unfortunately, some of the Damoclean planes, because of this (not because strangely behaving civilian planes were not remarked upon, but because protocol was to try to get them to land at airports so security could seize them and thus either grab their contraband or gather intelligence) got in close enough that their sudden deviations from target, so close to populated areas, came as a shock. By the time that it was realized that there was a consistency to the anamalous reports and maritime and Air Force patrol flights were moving in to intercept and ADA missiles were being readied...

"Mother of God, Betharan Palace, part of downtown Fineberg, the ETC complex at Hillel, two newspaper buildings, the National Legislature taken out. It's a nightmare." General Samson sat down heavily. "Mother of God."

"There was an attack on both Sterry Harbour and Padan-Aran, but Air Force units took them out before they could attack. Not much left of them I'm afraid."

"How did Skyguard not realize this was happening?" demanded a Council Police officer, white faced.

"Because Skyguard didn't realize they were a threat! Where is General Vrinn?" asked the Operations Officer of the Day, seeing the ash grey face of his Deputy Commander.

"On her way now, she should be here in half an hour." said a tactical officer, realizing only as he spoke that he was shaking.

"Everyone get to your places and do your duty," snapped the Operations Officer sharply. "We are still officers of the National Air Force, and we have to be ready! The General wants orders sent out to ALL airports--any unregistered flights are to be escorted to localized landing zones immediately, and are NOT to approach any major populated areas! I don't care if they're on distress calls--ground them all! Snap to it!"

"Sir, I'm getting confirmation on those strikes. Apparently thousands have been injured or killed in multiple locations. It's a nightmare. At Hillel the reinforced building helped a lot, but hundreds are trapped, others were killed outright. The mall..." he shook his head. "And in the late afternoon too."

"The King, where was he?" asked the CP officer.

"Betharan Palace." Someone in the room began to weep, the Operations Officer said, "We will observe proprieties later." his eyes were cold, his manner fierce like a hawk's. "I want no sentimentality. The next person who weeps or shows any emotions other than devotion to duty will be arrested." he glanced at the CP officer. "Is that understood, everyone?"

"Yes sir," the voices chorused, discipline kicking back in.

Workers, Peasants, and Soldiers of Damoclea, New Edom, and the world,

Comrades, you have today no doubt witnessed an attack of a magnitude scarcely imagined in the history of revolutions! This is not an attack on innocents, but on capitalists, theocrats, fascists, militarists, aristocrats, and petty bourgeois enemies of the World Socialist Revolution! Do not be deceived by those revisionists and Stalinists who preach co-existence with the capitalist world, for some indefinite period of time! There is no peaceful co-existence with the enemies of the international proletarian vanguard and brotherhood, only endless class struggle, revolution, and warfare against them!Let there be no question of responsibility. Do not be fooled. This was not an act of terror, but an act of war against the Imperialist Theocratic Regime in New Edom! It is now only war to the bitter end, come victory or death! This is direct action, comrades! To my Edomite comrades, I call upon you, whether soldiers, students, workers, or peasants, to rise as one man against the ruling classes once and for all and end their rule forever! Now is the moment of truth, now is the time to strike! Direct action! Take up that call of arms! Direct action! We have softened up the capitalists and their theocratic proxies, now it is your turn to strike! Do not listen to false comrades, revisionists, social imperialists, and social democrats among you! Stand tall now, rise up, and seize control of your destiny! Unite for a socialist New Edom, a Soviet New Edom, a Communist New Edom! End capitalism, religion, nationalism, and other false isms forever! Down with kings, capitalists, and bishops! Down with so-called Prophets! Rise up now and take arms for your liberation from the princes and robber barons forever! Forward for a new Edom! Forward with the Proletariat and the Vanguard! Forward with Socialism and the Revolution! [/quote]

Once more, the declaration of war was met with rousing applause and cheering deputies, each visible with his or her party pins and Damoclean flags, singing once more the Internationale, while nearby, Damoclean People's Radio and People's Television displayed the public impalement of sixty Christians who refused to renounce their faith.

Orders were also issued to the Damocleans in Arcologia: prepare to aid the Cause however you can, and be ruthless with all dissent. There would no more kid gloves. The time had come for naked savagery, a specialty of the Damoclean breed of Red.


Comrade Thales, Leader of the Revolution, Premier, and First Secretary of the Central Committee.

Fineberg, New Edom

The Stadium
The aid workers and volunteers from the NCR were trying to make them orderly; the stairs were nearly crushed with people, and people with bullhorns were shouting, "Form an orderly line! You must form an orderly line!"

Catalina felt other bodies pushed against hers, she lost sight of where her friend Rachel was as she nearly stumbled and felt knees and feet against her body; panic at the thought of being trampled filled her and she shoved violently, thrust her way to her feet, and found herself staring into the wild animal-fear face of another woman with wild hair like a witch, her eyes rolling and teeth showing, and screams and yells all around. She had to get through to Alby and Tabby, she had to! Some of the women had begun chanting "LET US THROUGH! LET US THROUGH!"

"FORM AN ORDERLY LINE!" thundered a male voice, and there was a pistol shot; it made everyone cringe. "LISTEN. YOUR CHILDREN ARE BEING TAKEN TO THE SHELTER. YOU MUST FORM ORDERLY LINES FOR THE SHELTER. YOU WILL BE GUIDED THERE. WE WILL MOVE PEOPLE THROUGH TWO AT A TIME. UNTIL THEN, STOP SHOVING!"

The women were for the moment calming down, only because they were afraid of being shot, but Catalina could smell the fear and tension all around her. The thought of being cut off from loved ones was so real that they would do anything, many of them, to get at their children. Like the Good Mother in the tale of Solomon's Judgement, those who had stayed for the long haul, those who were devoted, who worked every day in lousy factories to make enough to provide while their husbands, brothers, fathers and others were off fighting the Anarchists and the Reds would kill and die if need be to protect their children.

Someone thought to lead them in prayer. Catalina found herself praying more fervently than she ever had.

it seemed an agony of waiting to her until she could get through past the guards, who were taut faced and hands itchy on trigger fingers, though she was relieved to see that at least they had some tear gas dispensers and fire hoses--they were clearly prepared at least, she was terrified of someone just losing it and starting to shoot. Hard faced NCOs and a pale junior officer stood in a small knot, the senior sergeant snapping, "Move forward. Move forward" at her and a woman she only knew to say hello to. Catalina looked the man in the eye--"God love you," she said. He said in a more normal, human voice, "And God love you, Missus."

Then moving to the shelter, guided, divided arbitrarily by NCR workers with red cross armbands, and down into the stuffy shelter area they had turned the main storage facilities in the arena into, and an agonizing wait for numbers and names to be called.

Alby and Tabby. They were snotty nosed and dirty faced, shivery with weeping, scared, and throwing themselves into her arms. For a long moment all she was aware of was the two little bodies tight against her.

The Uber-Mall

Orson Daley had pulled his car to the side of the road when the huge thumps and booms had been heard, and was hearing news on the radio...the direction from which he saw the smoke coming from filling him with panic.

The LAIX executive felt a thick choking feeling in his chest and throat. Margot...Margot he realized he was saying the name aloud. He was supposed to meet her there. No. This was normal. The country was at peace. He found that he couldn't turn the key in his ignition, couldn't think how to drive. Margot. Had she already gone there? Was she there when...whatever it was...had happened?

Nothing would matter if he could not meet Margot there. His job. Their home. Their ambition to make it good here and either move back to Lamoni or tough it out as good expats...the decorations, the social rounds, they all went flying from his mind like playing cards blown by a strong wind; all he could imagine was Margot. He had to hold her hand one more time at least. If he only could see her, he'd watch a million chick flicks with her; he'd never listen with half an ear again. He'd make her breakfast in bed every day. He'd thank the Universe every day for her. He took a deep breath.

Then he turned the key in the ignition, and drove down the road, pausing as one of the new shiny ambulances went screaming past, siren flaring, and followed, his lips so tight they hurt, gripping the wheel, and praying for the first time in a long time with utter humility and sincerity...though he didn't know what or who to pray to.

Fineberg General Hospital, Emergency
(Foreigners--diplomats, reporters, commercial travelers, tourists--hear the sound of ambulances almost every ten minutes.)
Jael Sarnath had just been about to go on her lunch break when all hell broke loose, and she had been organizing for the inevitable chaos. And it came--and blood trails literally spilling over the floor in gleaming pools. And so she put all thought of hunger, weariness out of her mind, and had to deal with things; burn and abrasion wounds, help surgeon probe for broken fragments, need light, need this cleaned, hold him down, get the straps on. Blood pumping, clamps, clamps, got it, ignore the screaming next door. The smell of blood and shit nauseating, some vapo-rub just under the nose helping with that. The wound in the leg stable at last, have to close up that artery.

Move the patient up to ICU. Voice over intercom advising that there was a Code Red, in room 809 down the hall. Get there fast, walk fast but don't run. Dodge around the patient in the hospital bed. Register old woman lying in the hall by herself on a guerney, motion to the volunteer standing frightened. "Check on the lady over there, go! Just check the chart, don't try to figure it out, move yourself girl!" Deal with the heart failure in 809. More coming. More coming. Of course they are--a battle and the damned military didn't imagine they'd actually need to bring out a full field hospital. Of course.

No it's worse. They did imagine they'd need it; there were just too many casualties.

Hadn't she experienced this all before? Hadn't this all happened before? Was there any way it would ever stop?

Sergeant Dale

Abner Dale ordered his men and women to form a roadblock, forcing them to focus on their task. But few could take their eyes off the sight of the mostly collapsed building complex of the Fineberg Times. Flames licked out from the blackened windows, and Dale watched as firemen advanced on the building.

What he wanted deep down, but ignored because of years of a strong sense of duty, was to go home. Not because he had anything wonderful waiting for him like a beautiful wife and children. But because his ageing parents had lost their home in Harbourtown, and he had sacrificed much of his bonus pay from the war both to bring them to live with him and to enable them to live in some comfort and dignity. He wanted to be there and reassure them, take their hands, and tell them that it would be alright.

But he had taken an oath, which he was suddenly weary of. What good was it to train the militia to be ‘civilized police’ when this was still the country he lived in? He felt a weary hatred for those who had done this, but there were so many of them…it used you up hating them. You saluted, you took the orders, you set up the roadblock and helped the other emergency services move people out. And then seeing that some of them were needing help because of panicked people already ahead of the roadblock, you went forward to help organize the stretcher bearers, leaving a junior sergeant in command of the roadblock area. And when you heard a gas main explosion go off elsewhere in the city, ballooning in a horrible swirling ball of fire, you kept steady, because war had taught you that; you flinched because you couldn’t help it, but you shouted, “Keep that fucking stretcher moving!”

And part of that was that he knew he’d just be sitting at home anyway if he was there, after a bit, staring at the walls.

Military District of Fineberg

General Pahath-Moab had emptied his mind of the need for everything but action. He had ordered Military Police, Combat Engineers, Logistics and Transport troops, Field Ambulance units into the city to help, and had ordered that certain public places be set aside to act as emergency medical services, then left that part of things in General Sutherland’s hands.

“What about the movements to Damoclea?” General Benajah had asked.

“Continue them, of course,” said Perrin, looking slightly surprised. He had then given instructions that similar actions should take place in Lookinghaven, and had received reports form General Vrinn about the preparedness of the air and Skyguard patrols, how they had raised the level of security for all air movements. He thanked her courteously.

He listened to the message from Damoclea, and had a faint frown as though he was being given a military report by an over-excited junior officer.

Following this there was a rather upset phone call from the Archonate in Lyscania. The Ambassador had warned him about this; they were distressed that the war had already started, and were concerned that there were no substantial forces in Lyscania yet.

"Realistically," warned General Benajah, "Their own forces could hold against a Damoclean invasion for perhaps 72 hours."

"What if we have the Airborne there in 48 hours as promised/" asked Perrin.

The Chiefs of Staff looked at one another grimly. "Better," allowed General Benajah. "But it's cutting it pretty fine, and even then, if they do an all out invasion like the invasion of Dengali, it will be a very near thing."

"Then we simply must continue moving our people onto the ships and planes." said Perrin calmly.

He picked up the phone, and said, "Hello, your Excellency. Yes, thank you, your condolences are much appreciated...vital that we stand together against the scourge of Commuinism and Anarchy..."

Queen Mara stood before cameras and journalists, with the smoking ruins of Betharan Palace in the background. Her chestnut hair was held back by golden barrettes; she was wearing a dark purple summer dress that blew against her body, and in spite of her attempts at self control, her makeup streaked down her cheeks. “My beloved people, we have all suffered…” her voice choked a moment, “The worst kind of tragedy. We have, many of us, including me, lost people we loved today. Their loss is awful. And I am sure that you like me want to scream to God above—why? When will it stop? When we’re all dead? When everything is in ruins? Nothing can replace our loss. There is no mourning enough. There are not tears enough.” Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself. The camera showed that with her were other members of the Royal Family—Count and Countess Lalery, Prince Enoch Tubal-Cain, Prince Elijah Shalmaneser. Mara said, her sorrowful eyes looking into the camera. “Love those you still have the more dearly. Hold them the more closely. And fight all the harder that we can protect our country. We are up against enemies that surrender will only mean our degradation and death to. We must all be in one another’s thoughts and prayers. Old and young, rich and poor, man and woman, grown up and child, soldier and citizen, we must all stand together now, so that the evil ones who did this to us will not triumph. I wish I could reassure you of some golden future, but now all we can do is fight to stay alive, fight to protect what we have and not be defeated. If we don’t, they’ll kill us. May God…” she could not go on a moment, her eyes streaming afresh, “May God comfort you and keep you all.”

Prayers had been said, and the embarkation of the sailors, soldiers, airmen had begun from air and sea ports across the country. They had been informed of what had happened, and had heard the Queen’s message, and had listened to the invocations of chaplains, and received their mission orders. There was a growing sense among the people that they had to fight to the death, much as the Queen had said, that they were up against an implacable enemy who would torture, rape, murder to force their alien ideology upon them.

Ironically many Communists had died in the National Legislature explosion and fire…

[New Edom]

Reme Air Force Base, Etruria Majora Protectorate, New Edom

On many tarmacs, C-10 Minotaur Strategic Airlifters stood like huge raptors ready for a headwind, and towards each of them walked an orderly line of Airborne Soldiers, their boots all falling as one on the paved ground, one arm steadily holding a rifle at shoulder arms, the other swinging neatly like a pendulum, moved a steady line of equipment and light vehicles up towards the ramps and the shadowed interiors. Rifles, rations, boots, BDUs, rockets, mortars, helmets, packs, medical supplies, fuel, they moved up as with one soul to be carried of to Lyscania, where they would be the first wave of the forces that would directly oppose Damoclea.

Damoclea
As loyal musicians played The Internationale, everywhere in Damoclea, the posters were nailed to walls, doors, graffiti artists were pressed into service, muralists as well, all for one aim: propaganda.

Everywhere, the images came up, in the press, the TV, the radio, billboards, buses, loyal Junior Comrades with placards, all calling for young Damocleans, of both sexes, enlist or prepare to be conscripted. No one was to be spared, not even the sons and daughters of high Party officers. The whole nation, especially the capital, was crimson with the red flag of Damoclea. It was all-out effort, but soon conscription had to be imposed outright.

To augment a standing army of 238,000 men and women, many of them politically unreliable since the Revolution, commissars were assigned to each company and above, plus a new People's Guard and People's Youth were created as quickly as possible, and furthermore, enough conscripts were added to double the size of the army to more than half a million men and women. State-controlled plants and factories were now mobilized to maximize output, and in many cases, convicts were put to work in new penal battalions.

The entire country was being put on a war footing at last, with land mines put in place along the border, the small, but brave and enthusiastic pilots of the new national air force organized into their squadrons, the intrepid sailors of the Damoclean Navy, many of them veterans of the Acciw Blockade, and frankly some of the best fighters of the Damoclean armed forces....the marines, most of them former pirates now forced to follow strict military discipline. The fighting spirit wasn't the issue, more the discipline and loyalty, since Communism was a new system and not everyone fully agreed with it.

Many former Judges were pressed into service, but under close surveillance. Weapons were still a matter of acquisition, though. Where to get enough for all of this new massive army? Already, the printing presses inflated the economy to pay for purchases of weapons, but that might not be enough.

The conclusion was reached. Lyscania had a weak navy and army.....invade Lyscania, blood the troops, raise morale, and seize weapons where possible from Lyscanians, among other supplies. Yes, best to invade that land, as soon as possible, to seize the capital, install a puppet regime, push through a Revolution there, as it were, and then dig in, set up the trenches while stiffening the backbone of the armed forces.

This war would be good for national unity, after all....unite the proletariat behind the Party at last!

A force of some three infantry divisions and two armored brigades, covered by air units, crossed the border on Sunday, while at home the draft was imposed on a warrior race more used to lightning raids than total war, to piracy than fighting as a navy. The merchant marine had been nationalized, however, so it didn't need to become privateers, just have all of its sailors trained and absorbed into the Navy itself.

So now, the Damoclean front-line troops consisted of some:

3 x Divisions (20,000 x 3)
2 aviation squadrons of 7 Mig-29s each
2 tank brigades (200 T-90s)
2 artillery brigades (howitzers, Katusha rockets).

With this force of some 70-90,000 men and women, the Damocleans unleashed the full wrath of their invasion of Lyscania, not bothering to consult the Lyscanians. That the Damocleans really needed to modernize their forces was demonstrated by the lack of bombers and airborne troops available, the latter mainly due to lack of training. This war would not be easy for them, but perhaps if they conquered the even weaker Lyscania, it would make it easier to repel the Edomites until "fraternal socialist comrades" from abroad came to their aid or the Revolution finally struck New Edom itself.

Heraclea, Lyscania
The Damoclean Border

The rolling hill country, lightly forested, with some rocky valleys and canyons lay along the Damoclea-Lyscania border. For centuries shepherds, hunters, farmers had lived here, and the border had always been hostile, subject to tribal raids and other disputes. Lyscania had always feared the possibility of a serious Damoclean invasion. The one advantage that they did have was that their very small army was highly professional; they would not be brushed aside casually. However there were few illusions on the part of the Lyscanians about what would happen if there was a serious invasion.

This was why a few years ago Queen Tyndarea had sought, in desperation, an alliance with Ganosia--one which failed due to that state's collapse and rebirth under the new hegemony there, and why it had sought a new one with New Edom and her allies, albeit cautiously so as not to start a paranoid feeding frenzy on the part of their Red neighbors.

Now the streets of Heraclea were full of people both from the small city and the surrounding countryside, fleeing onto trains and available transport--buses and trucks if possible--as news of an imminent and likely Damoclean attack had come through. The advance of forces of the regular army had confirmed this. A squadron of F-16s, a tank battalion, and 2,000 miliita had been sent to the border. The latter were armed with assault rifles, light mortars, recoiless rifles, machineguns and were mostly mounted in jeeps or 2 1/2 ton trucks; they wore old fashioned steel helmets and olive drab fatigues with their patches showing the black axes and the rampant bull of the seal of Lyscania; the patches looked new. Many civilians were forced to walk as these arrived, with men in uniform with megaphones shouting, "These vehicles are for our army's supply and personnel needs! The Archons regret having to force you to walk. We must all do our patriotic duty!"
Some of the soldiers were troubled though, seeing old men and women, children, pregnant women, men past middle age, forced to get down and walk with what posessions they could bring--suitcases, hand carts, little wagons. But then they became just one of many images that blurred past their eyes as they headed to the border to be disembarked at small villages or meadows or woods that some of them had never seen before or heard of.

Fixed position radars at Pallas Athena AFB were scanning around the border and beyond, to guide the F-16s as best as could be managed. General Pleiades had pledged to his people that they would not sacrifice in vain, but would obtain the time to demonstrate to any invaders that they were sorely mistaken to think "Lyscania an easy morsel to swallow."

In Lyscaneum, the capital of the Archonate of Lyscania, there had been protests, insistence upon making peace, demands that the Archons try to negotiate. Queen Tyndarea was rumored to be in favour of this, to have begged the other Archons for the chance to go to Damoclea and plead for peace. General Pleiades spoke to the people however (even as HPS militia were clubbing and gassing people and jailing protestors or driving them off the streets) about how "I and General Pahath-Moab have a great understanding and friendship, and he has promised to me that as a friend will not abandon his friend to disaster and doom, so it will be between us. We must let the enemy do his worst, and we will do our best, to fight back hard. It will be a hard fight, but at the end of it all, we will be victorious. These gods-denying reds will regret the day that they faced off against Lyscania!"

An anonymous blogger however, calling themselves "Solon" wrote "The violent and tyrannical old man who leads the Archonate and pretends the dictator he just met two weeks ago are best friends, and the wanton whore calling herself Queen both will sell us for however much they can get. It doesn't matter if we are spreading cheeks for Damoclea or New Edom--either way we're fucked."

Meanwhile, the Lyscanians prepared for a war of maneuver. General Pleiades had chosen 4 different possible locations to fall back to, to try to lure the enemy to destruction upon. The F-16s were to avoid direct engagement, to prefer to seek out vulnerable targets supporting the enemy air power; no one was to ask for air support for the whole point would be to damage the air support of the enemy. The Airborne were instructed to destroy bridges, to use hunter-killer teams to snipe at officers, to create roadblocks and leave looped recordings that would indicate false movements. The Armoured Battalion was instructed to be the reserve strike force, to move to an ambush position to support the militia, who were to move to the four main ambush points, dig in as much as they could, and wait for the inevitable. There was the possibility of the enemy moving across country at two main points, and there were two roads to deal with. Pleiades had no doubt that the enemy would think independently of his wishes, and by no means believed the plan would work entirely accordingly to his intention--but one had to have a plan.

Meanwhile, the militia, many of them recently policemen, firemen, ambulance workers, or simply citizens who were patriotic and drilled once a week with rifles and exercises and once a month with maneuvers, were digging in in the wooded hills and concealing rifle pits and anti-aircraft and artillery trenches around small abandoned farming villages. Sweat ran down their backs; many dug shirtless and without helmets though their NCOs and officers ordered them to keep their headgear on.

The New Edomite Expeditionary Force
108,000 troops had been packed onto the amphibious ships and were being escorted now away from the shores of New Edom. The largest expedition sent from New Edom since the invasion of Gloria Regis in the early 20th Century was underway. Soldiers slung themselves into bunks, secured equipment, and in some cases were daunted by this; the Marine Infantry and some of them had experienced this before though, in Pravengria, and began to have instincts kick in.

The fleet spread out across the waves, and from high up was dwarfed by the sea around it, but to those standing watches, piloting, quartering, flying CAP, or standing in conning towers before submersion saw darkness, for they had left in the witching hour so that as few as possible knew what they were doing. Rumors had been spread in every port of maneuvers being done, of fears of Carpathia and Moldova or some other Red nation invading Gloria Regis to liberate it for solidarity. As much as possible secrecy of the departure of the expedition was preserved, and it was only once aboard that most of the soldiers, sailors and airmen even knew where they were going. It was explained why: that the Communist Damocleans had spies, that the Council Police were still working on catching them, and so in the first three days the expedition would move in utter secrecy; it would be ideally only when the Airborne landed in Lyscania that the enemy would know when they were coming, and then they should arrive four to five days after...

New Edomite Airborne Convoy, Heading to Lyscania
2nd Platoon, "C" Company,1st Battalion, Royal Fusiliers (Airborne)

Lieutenant Lucius Capel sat chewing gum in the cavern of the C-10, waiting. They had a couple of major stopovers along the way, one in Estovakiva, but apart from that they would just be in for a long trip. Memory of smashing glasses after drinking toast after toast a couple of nights ago with fellow officers in the mess. Then the final briefing yesterday. Going to Damoclea. The Airborne had never been in action since they began training. Yes, they had some veterans from other units who had transferred in--probably for the bonus pay but also for the excitement. He'd been trained so much that he saw his life as training interrupted occasionally for meals, hygiene and social life. Endurance training; weapons training; tactical unit training; PT, jump training, equipment training, intelligence training, map training, visual recognition training...and now it would finally be put to the test. He had every confidence though. Everyone wanted to kick some Damoclean ass. Send crazed Anarchists to train people to bomb buildings, build death and rape camps? Time indeed.

One of the more intellectual officers had gone into greater depth. Why not Bulgislavia or Arthurista? Was it just covering up for allies? No, the Knowledgeable Lieutenant said, it was because those nations had disavowed their Anarchists, condemned them, called them criminals. Damoclea exalted theirs, encouraged the Hooded Man to greater atrocities. The Knoweledgeable Lieutenant was on the Battalion intelligence staff, and he seemed to know what he was talking about. For an Etrurian Equites it was important that you knew whose side you were on so you were fully committed. And then perhaps one day when he'd gotten a few ribbons on his chest, he would leave the army, and go into business with one of his uncles, then perhaps his own, marry and be someone no one could ever accuse of not being an upright citizen, God willing. He crossed himself unthinkingly.

Staff Sergeant Hosea Kishon was relaxing, half dozing. He was pretty damned content, when it came down to it. He and the Lieutenant had worked together for nearly two years getting the platoon into shape; they each knew their place; the Lieutenant to demonstrate courage and make clear the orders the unit had received; him to make sure the Lieutenant's orders were carried out. The Lieutenant, Capel, was under way too much strain at the moment, but he handled it pretty well. For Kishon, his delight lay in that he had done all that he could. He had gotten a few of the younger soldiers laid at one of the better (though still affordable) brothels in Nass before they shipped out, and then himself had visited his own favourite. Better to do it that way; he always had since he became more experienced. Life was good. Soon it would probably suck enormously, and yet he wouldn't trade it for the world. Kishon had transferred when the Airborne were formed from the 19th Light Troops, and while he sometimes missed the Troops it had meant an instant promotion to Sergeant and bonus pay for signing up for the rest of his life.

Corporal Catrina Loring was also content...in a different way. Her first memory of war was in the siege of Glasstower during the civil war. She had been part of a street gang in Reme and had been swept up in a raid. She was attractive--not immediately noticeable as pretty, but she had a nice body and had a waifish attractiveness in her face that had often lured unsuspecting men or women to either desire and pity or simply pity her--where they could be robbed to their skin in a filthy Reme alley. She remembered the beatings in the prison, awaiting sentence, which turned to attempted murder when she finally cornered the bitch who'd been beating her and stealing her food. Then it was a penal battalion when the civil war had started, digging trenches and pits under rifle and mortar fire, and fighting like hell with weapons dropped by the Monarchist unit that was fleeing a sortie by the Free Congress holed up like rats in the city. Then an "Emergency Service Battalion", like a penal battalion with weapons, and then somehow...comraderie. It was just like a gang only bigger. She got that. Oddly it was easy; she'd always loved the Royal Family but hated the bastards who ran everything, the bureaucrats, the priests, the others, but once she got that the officers were part of the gang, she could accept them, and filter out the chickenshit political crap they were always fussing about. "What do you want me to do," was her dictum. She didn't hate the Damocleans; they were simply her Queen's enemies. She had wept without shame at the death of both King Mark and King James. Both brothers dead--so horrible. Such different men but so good. She had been moved to her guts to see Queen Mara weeping for them.

She intended to make the Damocleans bleed.

Corporal Ernst Danzig was bemused. He was married! So strange. The big blonde machinegunner had woken up the previous morning beside a pretty Elwe girl, slim but curved where it mattered, smiling at him lazily, and they each had a ring on their finger. Who would have thought it? He had thought it was a joke at first, after all he was noted in the platoon for being more of a horndog than the sarge, but he must have had his head on straight, for she looked as good as she had drunk as she did sober. So he found himself reconsummating the wedding that very morning to her cries of approval, then signed all the paperwork with the company executive officer, who looked disapproving. Thinking about it mostly made him regret that she wouldn't be around later, but there'd be other women where he was going. Lyscanian girls with dark eyes and wavy hair grateful for being saved. He smiled to himself.

General Staff

Major Wendt was seething as she stood sipping her mint tea and honey while a group of senior officers were talking and laughing in the beautiful board room that they were using as a briefing room. Even Colonel Kenaz was taking part in the conversation, her laughter as loud as anyone's; General Barak was telling a joke.

"There was a Haranese guy riding through the desert on his camel. He had been traveling so long that he felt the need to have sex. Obviously there were no women in the desert so the man turned to his camel. He tried to position himself to have sex with his camel but the camel ran away. The man ran to catch up to the camel and got back on and started to ride again. Soon he was feeling the urge to have sex again so once again he turned to his camel. The camel refused by running away. So he caught up to it again and go on it again. Finally after riding the camel through the whole desert the Haranese came to a road. There was a broken down car with three gorgeous women in it wearing flimsy sundresses, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. He went up to them and asked the women if they needed any help. The redhead girl said, looking at him pleadingly, with her big blue eyes, says ,"If you fix our car we will do anything you want."

The Haranese guy says, "Really? Anything?"

"The girls chorus "Yes!"

He says, "ANYTHING I want?" they start blowing kisses, running their hands down their bodies, posing for him. "Yes, yes, anything!" they cry out.

So the Haranese guy luckily knew a thing or two about cars and fixed it in a flash. When he finished are three girls asked, "So...what can we do for you?" After thinking for a short while he replied,"Could you hold my camel?"

The officers roared at that. Wendt flushed. She had read in a foreign publication from Lamoni that this kind of thing was sexual harassment, but then she was too selfconscious to ask any of the Lamonian officers if it really was--she might look just like she as a complainer, someone who didn't have the guts to stick it out. And also, she'd heard the joke so many times now.

A naval officer came in and advised them that they were well underway. The amphibious ship would be their home for at least a week. She realized she had failed to make transfer, and since the Ralkovian campaign things had gotten worse...though in other respects better. Other officers seemed to feel that she was special on the General's staff; it expedited things.

On the other hand, it had gone beyond harassment, and she didn't know what to do about it. The worst part of it was that it was becoming normal. Colonel Kenaz made remarks to her and she was afraid to tell her what was happening now; some officers seemed to be sneering at her but it was hard to tell. She felt trapped. The General was in a sense the best school for staff work for her--his mind was like a steel trap, he seemed to respond swiftly to crisis, he had a coldly logical brain that she couldn't help but admire, and was clearly received happily by General NIcanor.

As the General was heading back to his stateroom, he beckoned to her. "We've got to plan for some alternative drop zones," he said. "So get some rack for a few hours but we'll have an early start. Come with me a moment," he added, glancing at her. As usual, he let her lead the way in, watching her curvaceous hips swaying. He closed the door behind them and she glanced at him, her lips parting. He smiled and nodded.

"Minx," he said, happily, "Do your stuff. I need to relax a bit."

It was odd how the first times her face had heated with shame, she had fought tears. Now she just hoped he wouldn't be too long, she really wanted that sleep. She unbuckled and unbuttoned, turning and showing him what he wanted to see, and began to shake her hips, the action making her uniform trousers shimmy down her legs, and General Barak, behind her, sat down in a chair after pouring himself a glass of brandy, lit a cigar, and watched his ADC lean over the table, wriggling her bottom and murmured, like a man hearing a symphony or seeing a sunset, "Glorious. That's worth fighting a war over."

Wendt, as usual, didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything.


Southern Adler, TECT
McDaniel Air Force Base

There was a light breeze in the sky as the night crept closer over the horizon. McDaniel AFB, newly upgraded with more hangers and better radar, was acting as a last landing spot for C-10 Minotaurs on to their journey to their intended destination, Lyscania. The base was not young nor was it totally brand new either. It was upgraded throughout the years like many bases in the Empire -- upgraded with better equipment, more supplies/equipment, and more state of the art capabilities. This evening it's duty was to act as the last land destination before reaching its intended destination an ocean or two away. C-10's and fuel tankers kept coming and coming as more and more arrived throughout the day. Some already carried equipment, supplies, vehicles, and soldiers; others were empty and were destined to pick up what awaited them on the ground. And so they landed, all the planes being made ready to travel to Lyscania, a country not very familiar to TECT in terms of relation. It was only suddenly that they were being sent to the country in support of New Edom -- the Emperor's orders. One can only tell of the coming carnage the men were going to face.


Major General Roach, full name Robert C. Roach, usually just referred to as 'Roach' by some, was the commander of the Division of Airborne Imperial Army forces being sent to Lyscania. One of the up & coming younger officers, his newest rank out shined his younger age to many high ranking officers in the TECT Armed Forces. He was forty one in fact. The brown short haired cut officer was pale skinned because of his genes, he didn't have facial hair, preferring to keep his face clean. His height of 6'ft though made up for many of his physical appearances to be weak, along with a good muscle tone as well. This young commanding officer was in command of the 205th Imperial Army Airborne Division. Most notable for their fighting in Galbador -- the division itself has a bright history for participating in many operations bravely, sometimes to the last man even. Their patch was a unique colored drawing of a mountain wolf with giant hawk wings; illustrating their sheer power from the air too the ground. Roach, a talented officer and fierce minded individual, commanded like many in the past who shared their seat as commander of the 205th. He was now leading them into conflict in order to support another nation, not an ally but a sort of friend. At least like minded friend. He personally cared little for the country but if the Emperor ordered it, Roach would gladly jump into Hell itself.


Roach now stood in front of the remaining airborne soldiers awaiting to board the plane in front of them on the tarmac. Out of the 15,000 men in his command, these few hundred were what was left to get on board. The rough and tough airborne men were outfitted for the job. Their basic BDU's, armor, helmets, and their standard weapon of choice the AK-110; some of them had the assault rifle/carbine version already slung over while others had outfitted theirs to the lmg version. A few others among squads had the long rifle variant for a battle rifle support but it was less common. The young men dressed perfectly stood at attention in a column formation awaiting the bay doors to lower. They had their parachutes next to them in case they were needed, though they had been informed they more than likely wouldn't. Even so, it is better to be safe then sorry. Roach stood at the front of the column, watching the men for any imperfections. He expected them to be elite and professional unless told otherwise. Roach looked off to his left and saw what must be the last of the M-20 Hamsher AMTV's being loaded into a C-10. The light modular vehicles were a favorite for the Airborne divisions; being light and powerful too only made sense they are a favorite. The bay doors finally came down with a few crew men waving to let them in, Roach marched them up and the men took seats wherever they pleased -- finally getting some leave before landing, putting their equipment in front of them and taking off their helmets. They began to socialize as the doors closed and the Major General was given notice of the division's state of readiness to take off. Roach gave the word and the first of many planes took off from the base. His own and a few modified C-10 gunships followed as well. This was the beginning of a new conflict.


The 205th Imperial Army Airborne were only to act as a defensive force to protect Lyscania from a possible Damoclean attack. They were to also be the first forces into the attack as well -- all in order to support the Edomite forces of airborne and the following Edomite-TECT main forces following behind. The airborne would be there quicker while the slower forces made their preparations and embarked to the Damoclea and Lyscania coast lines. Supporting the fight against anarchists, communists, and of course avenging the death of the Edomite slain King.The allied forces will show hell from above, bellow, and atop. No mercy for terrorist anarchist scum.

[New Edom]

GRIFFINDON

"We have been taken back to the embassy, we can still hear air raid sirens going off all over the city. We dont know when we will be allow out. We can hear the Ambulances rushing around delivering wounded to hospital. " The camera looked out from the embassy window, the Ambulance drove past down below.The MRC Gaurds were on an alert, that could be seen even from the top floor. The news team had been taken into a room. MBS had come to do a series on New Edom and now they had some footage that was serious.

The Prime Minister cut the television. "That ladies and Gentlemen was a few hours ago, as we speak we have the RFA MERCIFUL in Ceaserton, Admiral Ralton has ordered her to put out with all speed under escort from Ceaserton, she will arrive in Fineburg soon enough to help with relief from this attack." "That is all well and good sir but Damoclea has declared war on New Edom which can only mean that the New Edomites may come after us for help? And well Damoclea did not declare war on us." This came from the Foreign Minister Tyler Baxter. This earned him a look from the Interior (Police) Minister and the Minister of Defense.

It was the Minister of Defense who pushed past a sort of elephant that had plopped itself on the table. "Baxter if we dont do anything to deal with these Communists then I am afraid that they support the MNPLA." According to analysis of ELINT data gathered from assets Tyler it was only a matter of time, the fact that we are the New Edomites allies, we could be hit as well." Tyler considered this information. "Gentlemen, a Declaration of War has been made against one of our allies so I think I better get in contact with General Moab.

Code: Select all

FROM:The Office of the Rt Hon Brian Tyler PM of Mcnernia
TO:President-General P.P Moab of the Allied States of New Edom
SECRET-INTERGOVERNMENTAL PROTOCOL

  Greetings

 Upon hearing of the attacks perpitrated by the Communist terrorists of Damoclea HM was very upset and gave me explicit instructions to do everything in my power to put down the Communist and Anarchist menace. We have forces hot-listed in Cornellia for deployment if the Damocleans should follow up their terror attack with a invasion of New Edom. As I write this the RFA MERCIFUL a BENEVOLENCE class hospital ship is currently under way to assist with disaster releif. We had planned to send this aid flotillia sooner rather then later but things change and now we must adapt and be ready for anything.

ORBAT Cornellian Command Hotlist for New Edoms Defense
MCNERNIAN ARMY
65 (Cornellian) Infantry Division (Mechanized)
81 Light Infantry Division
51 (Cornellian) Infantry Division

ROYAL NAVY
RFA MERCIFUL Aid Flotilla

HMS GAIUS Carrier Battle group
x1 Achillies Class CVN
x2 Sword class CGN
x6 Falchion class DDGN
x2 Lanchev B
x1 Lanchev A

HMS ALEXANDER Carrier Battle group
  Same units as GAIUS

HMS CRUSADER Monarch BBGN Battle group
x1 Monarch
Same Escort complement as GAIUS

HMS CORNELLIAN SEA Amphibious Group
x1 Province class LHD
Same Escort as carriers
 -3/47 Commando Royal Marines

ROYAL AIR FORCE
54 RAF Tactical Fighter Wing TAC-Viper FGR.36, Illusion FG.1
67 RAF Bombardment Wing SAC- B-52H
89 RAF Airlift Wing- MAC C-5, C-17
 

RFA MERCIFUL

The hospital ship, painted a medical white and marked with the blue eight pointed cross and white winged snaked wrapped staff was the symbol of medicine. And well the people on board this giant of the seas were some of the best in medicine in the Empire. Commander Doctor Cameron Avi a skilled Navy surgeon led the bunch that would be saving lives within the next 72 hours or so. He was on the phone with the ship's CO. "Yes Captian, good that you have the reactor working, dont kick in the diesels, this ship does not have any thats why." The big ship bustled with activity a unit of RAF PJs were on board. They would be manning the helicopters of 465 Medical Evacuation squadron.

The doctor sat in his office all kinds of books and things. He looked over a Cardiology text book, with terrorist attacks there were always going to be cardio problems. The doctor was confident in his skill and the skill of his subordinates, he was head of the medical staff wich meant he would have his hands full with administration and bringing in patients.

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FROM:HM EMILION IV
TO: Queen Marah I Queen of New Edom
PERSONAL PROTOCOL

Greetings

 We cannot express enough in Written or Spoken Word the Outrage this has brought to Us. We are most inclined to declare war and consider us your allies should you need us.

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FROM: HRM MARA I
To: HM EMILION IV
PERSONAL PROTOCOL

Your Majesty,

Thank you very much for your kind message. It is not possible that my father, King James II, could be replaced in any way, but I am grateful for your friendship. We hope to move forward from this terrible event and secure a greater peace for our people. In this life or death struggle, we hope that as our ally you will support us fully.


RFA MERCIFUL

The Captain of the Hospital ship sat on the bridge, they were making good time for Fineberg with medical supplies on board. He listened to the message from the SAF fleet, they were a powerful force. "This is Captian David Georges Your heading where were going, I have two Falchions with me but more assistance could not hurt. Be ready to send over your doctors and take on patients. I sure hope we dont have to deal with the mess but we should be in time to offer aid."

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FROM: HM Goverment and HM Emilion IV
TO: Queen Mara I of New Edom
STANDARD DECLORATORY PROTOCOL

Greetings

Rest well assured that His Majesties Forces will stand by you in this fight against the Damoclean menace.

CEASERTON
MCNERNIAN CORNELLIA

The Empire was moving, thousands of soliders and machines of war were in the Cornellian Command, a powerful force with 70,000 ground troops stood up for the Carpathaians and now they would be moving. The big transports stood in a line on the tarmac as units of soliders moved around the airbase that was RAF Ceaserton. They were ready to go on the offensive against the Damocleans and their acts of Communist agression. Any potential hive of the Communist menace was to be wiped out. They would not be able to hurt anyone ever again once the Forces of HM were through with them.

"You lot get your asses into that jet, you call yourselves Paracommandos" They ran all the harder for their sergeant was at their backs. The whole battalion was the first element of the Army that was leaving to assault the Damocleans along side the New Edomites. The Paracommandos were like the US Army Rangers except there were more of them and they were trained in Independent Company Commando tactics. Meaning small groups of the Crimson Berets were to be dropped in to enemy territory to wreck utter havoc.

The sounds of heavy diesel engines indicated that there were other units in motion, the HT9A7 tanks of such units as the 34th Cornellian Cuirassiers were among the 70,000. Some had just been called to action with the declaration of war by Mcnernia on Damoclea. Screw that they were supporters of Communism, they had committed an of terrorism. The soliders saw what was on the news, blood and death of innocents. The people were outraged that Communists were willing to do such a thing. MVDF personnel began to take on more an more COIN duties to compensate. Some Colonial formations found themselves activated. Who knew how bloody this could get.

HMS CRUSADER

The big Monarch class battleship was the flag of the fleet that had set out from Ceaserton the whole fleet was most impressive to the eye a great many ships. Two aircraft carriers led the way, it would make a rendezvous with HMS Triumph off Gloria Regis and then it would move out having transfered the flag to the larger vessel. Truly it would be a battle the likes of which the world would not have seen nor see.

"Gentlemen we are embarked on a war of sorts, we hav 70,000 soliders all told in this fleet and we have to get them to the rendezvous point to work with the New Edomites and bring liberty to Damoclea. Build it up and make sure the Commies dont break it down." "Here here" Echoed from many throats as the assembled officers listened to the briefing. They had established a video linke between the various ships, the fleet was ready to assault the Damoclean homeland. Or if something happened in New Edom the Mcnernians would be ones to help restore order as was necessary.

"What of other states Marshal?" "Yes, I want to know what we will have." "Air Marshal I am glad you asked. The New Edomites of course, also the Havenwaleians. And the Common Territories. Three massive armies will converge on the Damocleans, combine that with the forces in Lyscania and well the Damocleans will head for the hills and then we will root them out like the dogs that they are." Feild Marshal Lord Cillran had been given the command and he intended to use it well. He had confidence in the pilots and soliders.

HMS TARTARIAN SEA

The Marines sat around watching the latest MBS broadcast on New Edom. The situation seemed bleak. The state had been bombed and bombed severly by the Damocleans now the Royal Marines, some of the finest in the Empire would be some of the first on the beaches. A rumor had been going around, some Military Intelligence sort of chap had said that they could be rerouted to New Edom if things went into a tailspin there. The big brawny young men sat around in the lounge discussing the situation.

"I am telling ya man we are gonna get rerouted, we know that the New Edomites wont let this stand and they are gonna come on like a bloody whirlwind to crush these commies into a paste so thin...." "I know Pete I know. We are going to come down on those bastards like the bloody sword of Christ himself." "Yeah yeah."

Code: Select all

FROM:Field Marshall Lord Cillran Mcnernian Army CINC OP Avenging Dragon
TO: New Edomite DoD
TOP SECRET

  Greetings

 The involvement of HM Forces in invading Damoclea has been codenamed Avenging Dragon, the declaration of "Hostile Understanding" A declaration of war one can argue. Has been issued. We are quite prepared to engage the Damocleans ourselves or have our assets on standby to asissit you. All things considered I have 70 000 ground troops, two carrier groups, a surface group and and Amphib group and two carrier groups along with a fighter, bomber and transport wing. We are ready.

Code: Select all

To: Field Marshall Lord Cillran Mcnernian Army CINC OP Avenging Dragon
From: Brigadier-General Perrin Pahath-Moab, President of the Council of MInisters
Subject: Military Operations
Encryption: Top Secret, Eyes Only

Dear Field Marshal,

Please be advised that as your country is allied with ours, we are glad to accept your offer of help, though we would have preferred to have been asked first, as our chief concern at the moment is logistics and supply given the distance to Damoclea. However that being said, if you would prefer to give combat units on the line, what we would prefer are the following before we accept:
1. Agreement that your forces will fall directly under the command of General Nicanor, our Expeditionary Force.
2. That your force will land following the landing of our forces, as we have to first achieve a beachead and landing zones.

warmest regards,
Gen. Pahath-Moab

Code: Select all

FROM: Feild Marshal Lord Cillran
TO: President-General P.P Moab
SUBJ:Command Structure
TOP SECRET

Greetings

 I was told by the Chief of the General Staff, the Minister of Defense to expect a joint command or something similar. There have been statements that we have mobilized in the face of the attacks by Damoclea sent to you I do belive advising that we have engaged in mobilization to aid in countering the threat. Your notice of logistics I will be sure to pass on and I do look forward to possibly working with General Nicanor, we will be holding near Gloria Regis while things are sorted out. Rest assured we can begin convoy escort and supply deliveries. According to MD6 Damocleas Navy should be a negligible thing.

The order was sent back to Ceaserton and then on to Griffindon regarding the need for the New Edomites to be supplied with various provisions and with logistical support. The Army and Navy were soon prepairing some supplies to be sent along, tankers were prepared for aircraft. Some supply ships had undergone refit to carry ship fuel because the navy had for the most part gone nuclear with the execption of a few reasearch vessels. There was rations aplenty and water tanks as well that were loaded into Royal Navy ships and Freighters.

There was alos arrangements made on the arieal end of things, RAF tankers were prepared to refuel the New Edomites should they ask for it. The Navy sent out submarines to protect the routes the New Edomites could be using for the task force. Supplies would be arriving within days under Royal Navy escort.

Code: Select all

FROM: Mcnernian MoD
TO: New Edomite DoD
SUBJ: Supplies and Support
TOP SECRET-EYES ONLY-TOP SECRET

 Greetings

 After some consideration the Admiralty and the Air Staff and the Army Staff have decided to engage in an operation codenamed DRAGONS FEAST. This is to provide ELINT intel support via submarines and satellites. Also we have sent submarines to investigate areas leading to the Archonate to  look for threats  although intelligence points to the Damocleans having nothing really in the way of a Navy. We have also decided to send along supplies under escort for your use.

[Havenwalde]

Betschstadt, Oderkommando der Streitkräfte (OKS)
Generalfieldmarschall Gunther Eckbert's Office , 0900 Hrs

Gunther who sat inside his office responding to an email sent to him by his wife who was at her own job in a Hospital in Havenheim. He missed her dearly and his mood would grow happier when he recieved his email from her. A knock at the door had him close his browser as he fixed his glasses two men walked into his office with one taking a seat and the other preferring to stand. These two men were from the Military Intelligence Office and were here to give him a report, possibly a update about Mardullah. A vanilla folder was laid on his desk by the man sitting down as Gunther opened it seeing a report about Damoclean issue in which it was said further in the report about the threat Damoclea poses to Havenwalde. He wondered what the Chancellery wanted done and he'd figure that the Damoclea were dominatly communist and that we'd be conducting a invasion of a actual communist nation. The Havenwalde Armed Forces would be up to the task as he took his glasses off and looked at the intelligence officer.

"The Chancellery want to strike a invasion of Damoclea. It's about time we get off our lazy asses and do something" Gunther said as the officer smiled and nodded.

The intelligence officers departed as Gunther opened his browser and logged into a secret site only permitted for the Armed Forces. Gunther then begun typing a report along with orders to be fufilled at once upon reading. War was comming and the fiery eagle represented by the national flag would rise above Damoclea and tear the Hammer and Sickle apart piece by piece.

Code: Select all


RECIPIANT: F.A.B GOLDEN EAGLE
SUBJECT: MOBILIZATION 'OPERATION DAMOCLEA'

MOBILIZATION OF THE 24TH MECHANIZED INFANTRY DIVISON, 12TH ARMOUR BATALLION, 56TH FALLSCHIRMJAGER BATALLION MUST BEGIN AT ONCE. ONCE COMPLETE FORCES ARE TO BE AIRLIFTED TO NAVAL BASE GUDMUND FOR PEPERATIONS FOR OPERATION DAMOCLEA.

- - -

Naval Base Gudmund, Province of Lanzo
0600 Hrs

One by one Airbus 310 MRTT's begun landing in the Gudmund Airstrip which was within the Naval Base compound. The amount of soldiers being airlifted here was 23,000 soldiers. The airlifting would take as much as two to three days as the A-310s did around the clock flying to transfer troops and materials to the base. Meanwhile the naval component had arrived which was the 1st Carrier Strike Group of the 1st Flotilla where the equipment and supplies were being loaded onto to ships. Tanks, varieties of armoured vehicles and other military vehicles, what men had landed from the plane ride were forming lines to board the ships. By the following week the naval force and it's ground forces would be at sea heading for Damoclea

[McNernia]

GRIFFINDON

As usual war would have its detractors, the MNPLA for one voiced its objections to the act of going to war in support of a "Imperialist Snake." They were quick to act against the Interior Ministry seconded troops that were fighting the terrorist threat in Norsex. The planned action against Damoclea was given the codename OP Avenging Dragon in reference to the dragon that was New Edom's symbol but an alternative was seeming to be a bit more appealing. The Prime Minister sat down in the Situation Room under the Ministry of Defense and listened to a breifing.

"Prime Minsiter what we are proposing is a action by the Royal Navy and the Air Force to support the New Edomite with those troops currently active, 7 crack divisions on standby at sea. Can be sustained for the next sixth months or so." Brian Tyler nodded, "Admiral this is all well and good what exactly are you going to do with this support action business?" Ralton nodded and changed the presentation on the screen. "We will have submarines of 78 Submarine Group patrolling the route area to the Archonate and the 89th Carrier Group, Imperator will be escorting a convoy of ships with supplies that the New Edomites can pick up. Several nuclear powered freighters."

On the screen at the opposite end of the room from the Prime Minister various routes and maps and statistics were out. Admiral David Ralton First Sea Lord and the Chief of Air Staff were present to deliver this statement to the Prime Minister. "And Air Marshal, what of the RAF?" "Sir we can have RAF tankers in position to keep the New Edomite aircraft airborne." "What of SAC?" "Conventional armed bombers stand at Condition 2 sir. With nuclear armed and Ballistic missiles at Condition 4." "Very good, the King will want to know about this, he does approve of helping New Edom. So long as we can deal with the MNPLA here at home as well as with the various other threats abroad should they pop up. Gentlemen OP DRAGONS FEAST has my authorization."

[Damoclea]

The Damoclean troops, many of them the most qualified, experienced, and trained soldiers who had invaded Lyscania once before, thought little of the once powerful state of Lyscania, a paper tiger whose depopulation in recent years had broken its back. No longer was it the dominant state of the region, it had lost that hegemony long since, a far cry from the glory days of its monarchy. Yes, these Lyscanians had grown soft and would be easy meat for the hunting.

The Damoclean air force began immediate air strikes to attempt air supremacy, seeking out enemy air bases, SAM batteries, and radar towers. With any luck, these targets would be knocked out of commission and the army could do its thing....the army, with its initial efforts pressed forth by the heavy and rocket artillery. Katusha rockets, especially, meant to deliver serious firepower and rain holy Hades on the foe.

Meanwhile, the Damoclean Navy and Marines, in a flotilla of six destroyers, four frigates, and two cruisers guarding their many transports, prepared to wreak havoc upon the beaches. The southern coastline of Lyscania, yes, that was the goal....but could it be done without the air cover that had to be sacrificed for the necessity of the land-based assault. There simply weren't enough planes, pilots, or fuel to hammer the enemy from the skies. So, no air cover, a critical absence that put the marines at serious risk, as they knew well....and prayed to the Gods and Spirits would not cost them their chances of victory after all.

So, the Damocleans were not exactly subtle, and hardly prepared for the ambushes that awaited them.

[Lyscania]

On a map, the Damoclean assault looked like the jaws of a wolf ready to snap at the vulnerable flank of the Lyscanian lamb. From the point of view of those actually there, it was very different...

In the towns along border and coast, buildings and equipment went up in smoke; crews of ZSU-23-4s searched the skies with their radars in an effort to guide anti-aircraft missiles into the air, mostly in vain but at times possibly damaging low flying and slow flying aircraft.

There were few big air raid shelters in Heraclea. As a result, most people took shelter in their cellars, but one of the air raid precautions the small city had taken was to remove the thick cellar walls between rows of buildings, and replace them with thin partitions that could be knocked through in an emergency. The idea was that, as one building collapsed or filled with smoke, those using the basement as a shelter could knock the walls down and run into adjoining buildings. With the city on fire everywhere, those fleeing from one burning cellar simply ran into another, with the result that hundreds of bodies were found piled up in houses at the end of city blocks. Smoke poured from the nearby Airbase.

At the coastal city of Terpsichore, Asphalt streets burst into flame, and fuel oil from damaged and destroyed ships, barges, and storage tanks spilled into the waters of the canals and the harbor caused it to ignite as well. Many deaths occurred on this night. A large number of those killed died seeking safety in bomb shelters and cellars, the firestorm consuming all available oxygen in the burning city above. The furious winds created by the firestorm had the power to sweep people up off the streets like dry leaves.

There were ships of different sizes scattered out along the bay, and when the Damocleans were detected, they began to steam away. With their focus on bombardment and reducing their landings' risk, they had not considered the threat of Charybdis. The frigate had been running silent, and an important decision had to be made about it.

And aboard the ship there had been some weeping, some cursing, some protests, some anger, but many of the sailors aboard understood. It was to buy time for their people. There had always been that kind of possibility. The commander had gravely shook hands with all his officers and chiefs, and all went to duty stations.

Moving swiftly through the water, missiles firing as she came, sent them at the Damocleans roaring up and down in flames. 8 Harpoons and 18 Sea Sparrows in the first volley of attack, along with the blazing of the ship's main gun.

Meanwhile, flying low and using the contours of the land, 20 F-16s of the Lyscanian Air Force had split into four flights and were seeking out the Damoclean forward air bases, radar units and refueling areas to raid. As with the frigate captain, they knew that they were probably buying time for their people with their lives.

[New Edom]

The First Airborne Division

Brigadier-General Elias Maron wasn't sure if he wanted to live or die. He had a secret, and it shamed him, and it haunted him.

He was in outward appearance the most normal of officers. He had an attractive wife from a good Baran family, and she was intelligent and clever, and was very much involved in educational reform so she didn't drive him crazy with her boredom; they each had their own lives that the other respected, and they had four children whom he loved very much. They enjoyed being parents together; they were well traveled and fairly modern in outlook though they made sure that their children also got a good religious education. While he had had a fairly active career he had come through it with good mental balance--he grieved for the losses but he had somehow kept it together, not let it destroy his character.

No, his yearning for death was his helpless realization of his love for another man.

Bartholemew Lams was a lawyer for a prominent firm in Teman who had been helping negotiate land lease terms between the Provincial Government and the Department of Defense, and Maron had been involved as well. There had simply been something so compelling about him, and he had never felt that way before. It came as a shock to him. He had always felt that his abstemiousness in matters sexual was a religious thing, due to his upbringing. He was dutiful but also affectionate with his wife, there was a friendly good natured sense to their intimacy, and he had felt that he was normal. But the rush of feeling he had with Bartholemew came as a complete shock. He had found himself eagerly looking forward to seeing him again, found himself making pretexts to do so. They had become racquetball partners and he found that the admiration he had always had for other men who were fit and confident took on a strange emotional yearning. And it had all begun with them ending up sharing a bedroom during a conference unexpectedly, and what had resulted later in the wee hours of the morning, after so many talks.

But what if someone found out? And wasn't it a terrible sin? He felt he no longer knew himself, and so he kept it as much a secret as possible. But now, sitting in the C-10, halfway to Damoclea, he wished he had just one letter. Just one.

"Report, sir," Silva, his ADC handed him a flimsy, and he read it over. The Lyscanians were already catching hell, and they were still 48 hours away and would possibly have a stopover to check plane maintenance, give the troops a chance to stretch their legs and piss outside.

"Thank you, Silva." he said. He hoped his face was like some of the press and junior officer's described it--like a cliff. He had always prided himself on his manly stern appearance, his dark olive tanned chiseled features, his abrupt black eyebrows, still no sign of grey in his hair yet.

He put the thoughts of love from his mind. They would probably have to use the secondary drop zones; the key thing was to have any landing zones at all they could hold until the fleet arrived. It would probably come to a counterattack, and he hoped the intelligence was accurate.

[Damoclea]

The skipper of the Friedrich Engels, Lieutenant Commander Anchises shouted his voice practically out of existence as he reacted to the mad scene out of the worst kind of hallucinogenic dream he could imagine...worse than anything than he had seen since somehow surviving the failed final expedition to Greymark five years before. So much had changed in those years. Then, he was a pirate, now he was a proper captain of a warship.

Still, on some levels, he thought like a buccaneer.

"Those miserable capitalist scumbags, they've hit the Chiron and the Bellerophon! Avenge the Chiron, avenge the Bellerophon!" he announced the sinking of one frigate and one cruiser so far by the defenders.

"Fire all guns now! Fire all missiles now! Sink that accursed ship if it's the last thing we do, by Poseidon!"

In spite of all attempts to impose atheism on the population, remnants of various cults and sects lingered, ironically in the military most of all. Prayers and curses to the Gods and Spirits were inevitable, of course.

In any case, the Damocleans were bound and determined to sink that ship, whatever it took, and pave the way for the landings.

In the air, a couple of fighters were indeed struck from the sky, generally piloted by cocksure hotheads who truly thought themselves indestructible. The rest of the mission took the lesson quickly to heart, of course, but now they had a new problem, as the enemy's counterattacked had hit their radar, airbases, and fuel depots, thus making it harder to repair, resupply, and unleash its fury yet again. Harder, but hardly impossible.

"Alright, comrades, there's work to do. Keep them trucks moving to the depots, keep manning the radar stations, and strengthen defenses at the forward bases. They've hit us and we've suffered damage (30%), but we are still here and we will keep on fighting. Forward the infantry and armor!" the Boss commanded, as the artillery continued its assault and now the tanks and APCs pushed ahead toward the foe.

It was high time to smash the enemy lines and conquer Lyscania before it could become a new territory of the Edomite state.....time to quash Lyscania forever.

[Lyscania]

On the Charybdis, the crew were not even thinking of imminent death anymore; they were too desperate in their work. An engine fire had broken out, and the Black Gang were dealing with that as well as well as all other maintenance. Their weapons countermeasures systems were going off. The rolling airframe of the vessel sprang to action. While not quite as fast as the Moskits coming in the main purpose was to parry the enemy missiles; the combat systems were swift and the Captain coldly continued to give orders. Warnings of missiles inbound; pray that their training and equipment fended off the attack. In the first wave it worked; the enemy's response was scattered and in spite of their greater numbers they seemed disorganized. With a roar of fire and smoke, Harpoon after Harpoon sped from the weapons deck of the frigate.

Leaving ruins, smoke and fire behind them, the four flights of F-16s swept off home, trying to be as stealthy as they had been in their approach. However there was grim news: their forward bases had been taken out by the initial enemy attack. They would have to get to emergency runways or in some cases try to reach farther off cities where reservists were waiting. With only their autocannons left for attack, they sped off by flights to whatever runways might service them. Their orders, should they manage to get refueled, was to retreat towards Lyscaneum to help defend the capital.

As the enemy infantry and armour advanced, they found on the roads ahead blockage: fallen trees, damaged and derelict vehicles, and on the sides of the roads where fields, hills and woodlands were, more wreckage and damage. On one of the larger highways a bridge was out, with a twenty foot drop below and a rocky river to deal with. But no enemy units challenged them; one or two of the Damoclean recon units would find an abandoned recent military encampment, tents still intact, and some uniforms and equipment scattered as though abandoned.

[Damoclea]

The Engels was out of action now. It took too many hits from the enemy Harpoons, as did two destroyers, greatly weakening the Damoclean escort fleet. Even so, the Damocleans returned fire with their naval guns and anti-ship missiles....well, the rather antiquated ones that they had on hand. Still, they fought well and bravely, in spite of their poor equipment. They were a nation with a strong tradition of piracy, after all....they were Sea Dogs, and still had plenty of fight in them.

The damage to the Damoclean forward bases, fuel depots, and radar was more or less even to that of the Lyscanians, give or take a few bombs and missiles. They had the same struggle to find landing strips, but they persevered and the ones who weren't shot of the sky landed where they could before resuming missions.

Meanwhile, the Damoclean ground forces pushed ahead, clearing obstacles as best they could, losing time as they did so, since they weren't quite ready for such delays. It took them a while to pick up their pace and continue their march, but they continued toward their objective, not letting anything stop them.

The war had just begun, and the Damoclean troops (except the commissars perhaps) secretly prayed to Ares and their ancestral spirits for victory. Red Javelin was the major war of their time, nothing quite like it. Would they make it out alive? Man and woman shared foxholes, beds, tents, barracks, and consoled themselves with various vices, including the obvious one of fraternization. Party-issued orders against fraternization were largely ignored, except in the presence of commissars. There was nothing more natural for Damocleans of both sexes than for sex to precede and follow battle....eros and thanatos melding together in one powerful energy.

Naturally, such things could only happen when they had spare time. Most of the time, they were too busy fighting to do anything else, especially get naked and busy with together in their bedrolls.

[Lyscania]

Terpsichore, Lyscania

The small coastal city was smoking and in places on fire, and the sounds of sirens and alarms were going off everywhere. It was the best harbour apart from Lyscaneum's Port Proteus (which was downriver from the capital) along the southern stretch of beach, which was largely rocky; low cliffs, pebbly shores with fishing villages above them, a few resorts (now abandoned by panicked vacationers and others). The Militia brigade that had been sent to defend this area was alerted and on call. Antiquated bunker systems, really just reinforced huts, lay here and there, and had been used as cook shacks and small shops by people plying wares to the tourist trade. Accordingly one CO had his HQ in a hut that still had posters on it that read things like "I Lost my Heart in Lyscania!" He muttered to his RTO, "I hope that's not prophetic. Take it down." On the other hand one stretch of them had been clothing and bathing suit shops; spare uniforms were draped over the dummies, training rifles placed in their hands and they were scattered around to act as distractions by one Militia Commander who was a part time stage manager for a theater company.

Somehwere out to sea, the Charybdis was duking it out with the enemy fleet; it stayed out of range of the antiquated guns and missiles to the best of the commander's ability, but it was failing in one purpose--stopping the landings. Hounded by the surviving escorts, the frigate was forced to withdraw but while still engaging. Hopefully it might take out another target, which the weapons systems immediately focused on.

The Border

As the advancing units of the Damoclean Army began to move up engineers and infantry to clear obstacles, the ambushes sprung. Anti-tank weapons, autocannons, machineguns, mortars and rockets began to rain down on the Damocleans; the intent was to trap them, hit forward units and vehicles, hit ones farther to the rear of their range and only then hit them in the middle. Using their cover and camouflage, they unleashed their angry vengeance upon the Communist invaders. Knowing that the enemy had no way of quickly advancing with their force projection to their advantage, they poured it on, so that one observer said "the hills of the borderlands opened up like Olympic fireworks." Refugees, moving hand carts, bicycles, horse carts and on foot heard it booming behind them but did not know what it meant; was it the enemy or their own side? Fear whipped through them and galvanized them to hurry. Militia being rushed up to the front in trucks, buses, vans and other vehicles felt a desperate hope that maybe this would push the Damocleans back, show the determination of Lyscania in defending themselves. Those who were veterans gloomily knew there was no such luck. But they had no choice but to head on...

Brave Lyscanians, the war for the very survival of our nation has begun! Our enemy, fueled by the hatred that lies in the breast of every Communist against freedom, democracy and peace, surges over our border intent on killing or enslaving all in their path. But our brave soldiers and militia have already begun to fight back! Do not let fear overcome you. All citizens, be prepared to do your part to keep our country free!
- A Message from General Pleiades

[Damoclea]

The Border

The war suddenly turned from an advance into a slaughterhouse. Death came from all directions, with Damocleans pinned down and forced to find spots from which to fire back at the foe. Tanks exploded from enemy shells, men and women ran in flames or lay legless as hand grenades detonated on them, and various troops shrieked in horrific agony as their entrails were poured out by machine gun fire that ripped open their bellies. Carnage, body parts, and bodily fluids lay everywhere, as the Damocleans fought on.

Naturally, they gave as they got. Damocleans were not prone to giving quarter, anyway. Many of them made Molotov cocktails in addition to their grenades, mortars, rockets, etc. and hurled them at the foe. One advantage was their very handy AK-74s, which were always reliable in combat. More artillery support was called in as much as possible, and the Damoclean Air Force hurried to the key points.

Still, the damage was done. The ambush had done its deadly job. Damocleans lay killed and wounded all over the place, men, women, and youth turned into carrion by the Lyscanian trap as it closed its jaws on them. At least one out of every ten Damoclean in these encounters was killed, in some spots twice as many. It was butchery, nothing less.

The Damocleans kept up their fire and their hard thrust at the foe, resolved to advance for the Homeland and the Revolution, whatever it took! They fired yet again and again, with all of their ordnance, slugging it out roughly with the Lyscanians as they sought to break this stubborn enemy and link up with the Marines somewhere in SE Lyscania for the victory.

Near the Coast

The remaining ships of the Damoclean flotilla guided their transports through the treacherous hail, though a few of the transport ships were sunk with the Marines on board. The assault would not be easy, but they had to make it, had to hit the ground with maximum force, and to that end, the naval guns and what few missiles remained lashed out at the coastal defenses with fierce brutality, the goal of making their beachhead never far from their minds.

The price included the destroyer Earl Browder, of course. There was always a price to pay...and the men and women of the Browder would never make it home to Damoclea. A decimated task force thus carried its plans for the southern shores of Lyscania.

[New Edom]

The New Edomite Expeditionary Force

"According to our most recent reports," Major Wendt said, confident and in her own element now, "The Damoclean Army has crossed the border and is engaged with Lyscanian Regular Army and Militia forces near and around the town of Heraclea. Lyscanian forces have been engaging using engineered broken terrain and ambushes to slow the advance, but are outnumbered nearly five to one, outgunned and out armoured. The only blessing is that the Damocleans are using dated tactics and are trying to swarm them, apparently, according to our field liaison, in spite of the broken terrain. How long the Lyscanians can hold their positions is another matter, but thus far according to both our liaison and General Pleiades, morale is high.

"Lyscanian Air Operations successfully took out radar and refueling positions, however they only have twenty fighters and so they had to return to a base farther from the border as the Damocleans have destroyed both the forward Air Force bases the LAF were using. Apparently they didn't have any secret reserve bases." She glanced up and saw Colonel Kenaz giving her a frankly lascivious look, and she couldn't help but blush, though she was suddenly furious. See how you do with your next meeting with the General, you old lesbo bitch,, she thought viciously. The thought withdrew her blush, made her smile. If she had pull she might as well use it.

"Continue, Major," said General Nicanor's gravelly voice. She said, "Yes, sir. The Damocleans seem to have selected the zone of the city of Terpsichore--it's a resort city on the southern coast that has rough and gravelly but landing worthy beaches. The Lyscanians' only frigate, the Charybdis engaged the Damoclean fleet, which is kind of dated and focused more on heavy guns than on missiles, and sunk two ships and damaged another before being forced to retreat. The Damocleans are now shelling the beaching area preparatory to landing, and there are probably the same odds as per the border but we don't have exact figures for the Damocleans save by the number of ships they have--it is estimated to be approximately the same, with about 4-5,000 Lyscanian Militia opposing them."

"And how far away are our Airborne and the TECT Airborne, Major?" asked General Hesperinus.

"They're about forty hours away." said Major Wendt.

"And we are still five days away." said General Hesperinus, glancing at General Nicanor. There was an odd respect between the two men; they had often fought one another during the First Civil War, but it had created a sense of admiration each had for the other's resourcefulness. They had once joked during a party following a public ceremony that the ugliest men made the best general's. General Nicanor would win no beauty contests with his blunt rough face, big lump of a nose, and his gait and demeanor of a peasant farmer; General Hesperinus, though better born, was hairy as an ape, with a jaw, beetling brow and flat nose that had given him the nickname "The Chimp" in school and "The Animal" during his junior officer years. He had a rough charisma that she kind of liked.

And then there was Barak. She kind of hated herself for feeling a shiver of pride when he looked at her approvingly.

"Thank you, Major." said Nicanor, getting up.

"Yes, sir." she went and sat down just behind Barak with the other staff.

"I have spoken with Admiral Hannegan, and we are going to be using Plan B, of landing at Proteus Containment Port near Lyscaneum. All of you go over Plan B one more time with your staff, let's make sure this is done properly. We will review each Corps, each Division's readiness tomorrow. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." said Nicanor.

[Lyscania]

The Border

There were two horrors that faced the Lyscanians. One was what they had done--flames licking around the bodies of screaming and running people, people falling under a hail of bullets and explosives, vehicles licking with fire and people tumbling out ablaze, smoke pouring and fragments flying into the air.

The other was, from the point of view of men in fire pits and trenches, concealed in makeshift bunkers was that they kept coming. They were forced to scramble over logjams and wreckage; they were forced to move by sections and squads through damnation alleys of vehicles and boulders and fallen trees, and yet they kept coming. One machinegunner, rolling his weapon in figure eights, was shouting, "More ammo! More ammo!" to the nearest rifleman, his AG's teeth chattering along with the machine. Already some of them were heading to fallback points, leaving a skeleton unit behind till the last moment, as their ammunition began to run low, for the next ambush point. As dark descended, the enemy were still moving at them, though thousands were now wounded or dead.

For the Lyscanians' part, the only thing saving lives was lack of effective forward observation by the Damocleans; they were firing their artillery and tank shells blind into the ambush zones, and so it minimized casualties. However they could simply not afford to take them, even to lose one Lyscanian for every ten Damocleans was a severe loss. Some of them were buried in their makeshift bunkers by collapsing trees or timbers, their screams swallowed up by the roar of the explosions. Others were caught in the open as they moved as messengers, ammo carriers, medics, stretcher bearers, torn and bleeding, legless, armless, gutless.

The Coast

Great clouds of sand, gravel, dirt and buildings flew up as wreckage with the pounding of the Damoclean naval guns and missile strikes on the shore; a number of the makeshift old fashioned bunkers collapsed with screaming men inside them, their howls of pain and terror lost in the booms and rumbles of the material falling down around them and crushing or trapping them. Others were missed altogether, some were concealed enough that they remained hidden; in these the men shuddered and cowered; some of them, inexperienced, emptied bowels and bladder and stank with their own fear and filth as they sobbed for their mothers and wailed in terror.

Beyond the coast itself, inland, it was felt and heard as thunder before a storm, and in the small villages and towns people paused, listened, fretted, prayed. There had been ordered evacuations, but it was proceeding slowly as many of the police and other officials had been drafted for other duties. So it began as a trickle and became a flood...people with their belongings as much as they could carry loading up onto bicycles and carts and into what trucks were left.

"Ah, holy father, why are you staying here?" asked a young woman in a nurse's uniform, pedaling her bike past a beautiful park with a grove of trees around a white marble shrine. The old man who stood there said, "This is the shrine of Pallas Athene! How can I abandon it?" He continued trimming the grass with an old fashioned set of clippers, moving slowly but surely.

The young woman shook her head. In the rapidly emptying town, hereditary clergy and some of the older people were determined to stay. They had urged those who had a fighting chance to leave. She had passed on bungalow where, on the porch, sat five old men with grim expressions and ancient hunting rifles on their laps, who nodded to her as she rode by. The streets were eerily quiet and the rumbling from the coast was loud and frightening. As she came to the edge of the town she saw the crowded road ahead, a sea of people fleeing towards inland.

[McNernia]

GRIFFINDON

The General Staff looked at the various reports that were coming in, Avenging Dragon's forces were on standby, it would take quite some time for the SAC bombers to be moving in to the target. The Chief of the General Staff was grim at the reports that were coming in from Lyscania, actions had been taken to evac the embassy. Cause well the shit was going down seriously now. Assets had been moving into position to protect the Dragons Feast. The McNernian way was to move premptively and be ready to go at a moments notice. Now well the tankers were in position to offer fuel. Should the New Edomites need it for their airborne aircraft.

Code: Select all

FROM: Chief of the General Staff HMF
TO: New Edomite DoD
SUBJ: Mcnernian Assistance
EYES ONLY-TOP SECRET-EYES ONLY

 Greetings

 Speed is essential to the defeat of the Damoclean threat and His Majesties Forces are underway with all haste to aid the Archonate alongside the Allied States Forces. We are prepared to offer supplies should you require them. Several ships are loaded with ammunition and rations and fuel and can be sent to the Archonate when you need them. Also RAF A330 tankers have been made ready for mid air refueling for the Airborne forces eliminating the need for you to land to refuel.

Vigilante BR.5
MRAF Strategic Air Command

"Raptor 2-4 you may approach." The pilot of the Vigilante sat at the controls, the airplane had been updated from the more primitive aircraft to a quite advanced machine in Mcnernian hands. So the Strategic Air Command had made this their steed of choice to deliver the firepower of an Empire upon the foe. One such aircraft was crewed by a pair of grime aviators. "Nigel, ya thin there is gonna be trouble?" "Look John, If there is trouble we would have gotten the order." "And then again sir...." "Yes I know the Navy can deal with the problem."

"Ahh, hang on." The comm line was silent as the bomber disengaged from the tanker and broke off letting one of its thirsty fellows take a drink. They were all tired the crews from sitting in the skies above Cornellia, they had their orders to orbit until the go codes came in, they were getting a bit antsy and still the AWACs kept stating paitientce and calm. SAC was all about discipline and strength of purpose in the act of causing armageddon. Things were always quite antsy and well it showed in the eyes of the pilots. Grim expressions were under their goggles.

AWACS
MRAF SAC

"It looks bad sir, the Lyscanians cant hold out for much longer if the Damocleans keep it up." The commander sat in his office on the lower deck of the A380 AWACS bird, two Super Vipers flew escort with air to air missles. "Damn, 20 F-16s against a fuck ton of bloody MiG-29s. Any orders from Glaston?" RAF Glaston was the headquarters for 2/3 of the nuclear deterrent and a potent force of powerful bomber aircraft capable of leveling countries. "Dismissed if there is any word I am going to get it first. Were waisting gas".

The aide saluted and left for another part of the aircraft, the general sent a message back to Glaston for orders, and then it came. DRAGONS BREATH WARPLAN IS GO.. The bombers would not be on the way for another 30 hours or so but at least they could head towards the departure line. The order was sent out as the tankers along the route prepared to refuel the aircraft that were making all speed for the line. From there the misson could begin.

Code: Select all

FROM: Field Marshall Lord Cillran
TO: CINC New Edomite Damoclean Force
TOP SECRET- EYES ONLY-TOP SECRET
SUBJ: SITUATION

 Greetings

 In light of the situation that seems to be present on the ground in the Archonate authorizations have been made for bombers of the Strategic Air Command to act in support of your Airborne landings and the lands of TECT and our own elite paratroopers and the 19th Airborne division. A departure line from which we will commence combat has been established well away from Damoclea and the Archonate. Our forces have moved there, I need your word to commence what is known in HMF command structure as OP DRAGONS BREATH. Airstrikes in preparation for a landing via Airborne of advanced coalition elements. We have submarines that can commence strikes via cruise missiles against targets within Damoclea.

[New Edom]

Code: Select all

To: Chief of Staff, McNernian DoD, and Field Marshal Lord Cillran, Major-General Robert C. Roach
From: General Adam Nicanor, CINC Damoclean Expeditionary Force
Subject: Air Support
Encryption: Top Secret Eyes Only

Improving on our air refueling relay will enormously help, and it is much appreciated. Being as this is the case we will save some of our own fuel to maintain air escort operations.

Our own air force is accompanying our Airborne Division, so that we will have the following to support their operations in Lyscania and Damoclea:

- 25 x Teratorn Low Penetration Bomber (1st Bomber Group)
- 20 x KC-10 Refuelling Aircraft (2nd Support squadron)
- 50 x C-10 Minotaur Transport Aircraft (2nd Transport Group)
- 25 x LY909 Sparrowhawk (1st Squadron)
- 30 x YA-42 Corsaire (2nd Squadron)
- 6 x LY910 Shadowhawk (Recon Squadron)

The plan is to land our forces around Proteus Container Port and Lyscaneum, the Lyscanian capital, to secure LZs for our planes and support units. Following this, counterattacks against the Damoclean invaders will take place, including bombardment of available targets by heavy bombers, gaining of air superiority, outflanking of invading forces and counter-invasion of Damoclea.

TECT Airborne forces will reinforce and support Lyscanian militia defending the coast--or if need be defend against an attack against Lyscaneum.

McNernian forces will reinforce Lyscanian regular army and militia forces near or around Heraclea, or wherever the Damocleans have advanced to by the time of our arrival, will push them back if possible and end the thrust of the invasion.

New Edomite forces will hopscotch past the McNernian and TECT forces to strike directly upon Damoclean supply and communication lines to cut them off.

Once the Damoclean forces are cut off from their homeland, we will endeavour to draw them in to their destruction; if need be holding them but otherwise cutting them into smaller units to their own destruction.

If this should succeed, then the Marine and Army units landing will drive past the Airborne and invade Damoclea. If it should prove more difficult, then they will support the Airborne efforts directly before advancing.

Naval Units:
- One escort force, that of TECT, will strike directly at the Damoclean Navy and do its best to destroy it completely.
- One escort force will support the main landings and provide air and submarine cover for them. (New Edomite) Following this, they will act as support for border crossings or naval landings depending on presentation of opportunity.
- TECT and New Edomite Amphibious forces plus assigned escorts will jointly prepare to land diversionary forces and forces of opportunity at Zone X on the map of Damoclea.
- One naval force, that of McNernia, is to maintain our supply lines and intelligence against possible enemy raids. Rumors of support for Damoclea have not yet been substantiated but are also not overruled.

- General A. Nicanor.


[Damoclea]

The Border

The Damoclean People's Army now moved with lethal grim determination, attrition on its mind. Guided by those senior officers and commissars on the scene who had a gift for improvisation at the front, the Damoclean troops attacked in force to press their advantage. They had taken heavy losses for their efforts with their vanguard and struck ruthlessly with available aircraft, but now the human wave redoubled its efforts, unconcerned with the loss of life as they continued their offensive.

The delay and ambush caused by the Lyscanian traps cost them, no doubt, but still they charged onward, or rather drove in their various trucks, jeeps, tanks, and APCs. The enemy fire was a constant peril, but one that they braved with a courage mixed with holy terror at the idea of angering the Party. The last thing that any of them wished was to end up in a gulag. Collectively, when they were pushed too far or when they could get away with it, a unit might defy and even kill a commissar, but individually, each soldier lived in dread of being reported to the authorities. That was fate far worse than a bullet to the head or even shrapnel in the gut.

The Landing

Meanwhile, the marines took full advantage of their opportunity and came ashore in force, their own automatic fire, grenades, mortars, etc. hurling themselves into action against the defenders. There was no attempt to spare civilian lives or show any pity toward the sick, elderly, or weak who might have been unable to extricate themselves from the crossfire. Many of those were simply killed on the spot so as to get them out of the way. As with the border, had there been more time, they would have raped them as well. As it was, the hapless were luckier than most in that respect at least.

Bit by bit, platoon by platoon, the Damoclean People's Marines set up their beachhead, preparing to push deep inland and smash their adversaries with their usual ferocity. The goal was to advance toward Lyscaneum from the south and link up with those units moving eastward from the frontier. The pincer was supposed to squash the Lyscanians as if they were cockroaches. At least in theory....

First, however, they had to clear out those concrete bunkers, and that was the immediate objective of the marines, especially their artillery in combination with the Navy.

[Lyscania]

The Border

The advance of covering troops gradually built up until the Damocleans, crawling and scrambling over the bodies of their own wounded and dying, over the battlefield wreckage, clearly compelled by some fanaticism that the Lyscanians barely understood, began to move up on the Lyscanian positions. Machinegun barrels were starting to overheat; mortarmen had run out of shells and they couldn't keep them moving up fast enough; the Lyscanians began to fall back, but they covered the battlefield with the last of their smoke shells as a signal, also to confuse the Damocleans as they moved up to the ambush points over fields and through the shelled out villages and roads; the Lyscanians did their best to peel back but in fact several of the militia units did not so much retreat as they fled, seeing the determined People's Army storming up a wooded hill towards them, with shelling and machineguns doing their best to clear the way. It was too much for these town constables, mailmen, farmers, factory workers, shepherds, loggers and clerks to deal with; they turned and began to run in spite of the curses of their officers. The regulars stayed in position to control the fallback but found themselves cursing when they realized that they were not being covered as they fell back.

General Pleiades had anticipated this possibility however; the orders were to let the panicking ones run till they were tired, then round them up, put them to other duties; hopefully they'd be better next time, if there was one. Meantime the reserves that had been moving up were set immediatley to work, to block the next set of roads, to set charges and blow up bridges and string barbed wire across fields in rolls. And waiting for the Damocleans who sought to exploit the breakthrough, the Armoured Battalion was waiting. The old fashioned tanks nevertheless packed a 105mm smoothbore and would do crippling damage to advancing infantry and apcs, and that was exactly what they were going to do. With regulars riding them till they got to the breakthrough point (wherever that was) then dismounting and advancing alongside with grim determination, they were to fight back, pound the living snot out of whoever tried to exploit the gap, then fall back again for rearming.

Moving up above, coming down low over the treeline was one of the V-22 Ospreys the Air Force had, prepared to drop a fuel bomb over the gap in the line as well--to in effect string a line of napalm that would halt that part of the advance.

Terpsichore

The militia were outflanked and surrounded in several parts; their positions overrun, some of them not even aware as they lay dying in their ruined ineffectual bunkers. The ones who were surrounded fought back almost blindly, firing their ammunition on full auto; flinging grenades, firing rockets, doing their best to slow the enemy advance.

Inland, mortar and 75mm howitzer units opened fire on the beachhead, the old fashioned weapons thundering down rounds along the rocky beach from range to range, hammering into man and rock and sand alike, while beyond the beach, among the villages and in the fields, concealed infantry waited, fear washing over some of them like wet slime, others resigned, some simply confused, some with unexpected courage that surprised them.

Civilians who had been late in fleeing lay dead or dying in heaps along the coast road...

[Damoclea]

The Border

The officers and commissars were hard-pressed to maintain discipline right then, as the enemy retreated before them. The prospect of loot, rapine, and wanton destruction was difficult to repress, since the Damocleans were still reavers at heart. The officers at times found themselves huffing and puffing to catch up with their troops, who charged in small groups at the foe as they left their positions, clearly eager to scatter and assail them.

It took a little while for the Damoclean artillery and air units to catch up with the infantry and armor, though it was the latter was better at self-control than regular conscript grunts. Not to mention that they had more work to do. The engineers and other support units cursed, knowing that there was really still work to do, cleaning debris and clearing away bodies. Still, they advanced to keep pace with the vanguard.

The Damocleans were still a relatively raw military talent, better trained at raids than conventional warfare. The officers and commissars, however, dreaded the consequences if the enemy had any traps left for them.

The Coast

As the marines pushed toward the bunkers, they were shocked to see that they were largely deserted. The enemy guns and rockets, however, were very real threats and had to be put down ASAP. That would require braving enemy ordnance to get to them first, along with bringing up Damoclean artillery as well. The officers and commissars in both the Navy and Marines, frustrated by lack of air cover, made sure to report the consequences. The High Command was about to get an earful about its ham-handed handling of the amphibious operation.

[Lyscania]

The Border

"NOW, Hyakinthos, FIRE!" came the roaring voice of Syntagmatárchi̱s (Colonel) Diomedes, and from their camouflaged positions the 60 tanks bellowed forth their angry response. 60 105mm shells slamming into the enemy ranks, machineguns hammering at them, 25mm autocannons and 75mm guns, artillery and mortars falling in a deadly rain at the advancing Damocleans as they plunged into the gap. Loaders kept the rounds moving, gunners kept firing, commanders kept aiming, and they felt almost exultant to see their plan springing into action. Colonel Diomedes kept them coordinated in fire by companies, the big tanks thundering, gun barrels smoking, the Scorpions protecting their flanks and now and then giving voice as well (though their chief role would be to cover the retreat.) Crouching around the heavy machines, infantry picked out targets, focused on any anti-tank weapons or gunners, sniping, firing, launching rockets and mortars.

On the flanking positions, the Damoclean advance was still slowing, but seemed to be inevitably grinding forward, and so with a last burst of smoke the Militia defenders began to fall back, though in this case more slowly, soldiers frightened and worried, stealing glances behind them.

In the smoking ruined woods at one position, an example of many others, two officers, pale but gritting their teeth, walked among the very badly wounded and sent them hopefully to the Elysian Fields, for this was better than leaving them to the Damocleans. However in several other cases--individual ones, men who were very determined, they were given grenades which they clutched to themselves--those men who had the strength to pull the pin when a Damoclean was close upon them, so that they could spit and pull and send them to Hades.

Terpsichore

The Militia defenders were catching hell; the bunkers that had held made it hard for anyone to advancing, firing through the slits of the concrete slanted walled huts to shoot at anyone trying to make it past them, using their positions to destroy any flankers they could. Until the enemy brought up heavier ordnance, they simply poured it on, raking the advancing Damoclean Marines with machinegun fire, rifle fire, rockets and mortars, doing their best to keep them pinned into areas where they could maximize the killing ground. This gave them courage, and gave them heart, and they began to do it with a will, some of them feeling an awesome sense of power as they decided with the pull of a trigger who lived and who died...

Along the road, the young nurse was feeling a rising sense of alarm. Why was everyone moving so slowly? The traffic seemed to crawl along, the lack of vehicles, the crowd making it hard to move past perhaps five kilometers an hour. It shocked her, how slowly everyone was going, and she had no illusions about how the battle would go...

[Damoclea]

It was like waking a pride of lions or a pack of wolves. The Damocleans stumbled into a real trap, slammed from all sides by the enemy tank battalion. It didn't look like a battalion....more like a brigade or so, and it was a nasty business. The Damocleans retaliated as much as possible, slugging it out clumsily with the defenders. It was truly hellish, this killing field, where both sides pounded at each other with artillery, tanks, infantry, anti-tank, and air support. It was hard for the poor souls in the tanks and their support to know what in Hades was really going on, so they just fought for their lives. There was nothing but killed or be killed, plain and simple. They fought for pure survival.

On the flanks, the Damocleans had fewer obstacles and ferociously gunned the enemy wherever they could, not sparing anyone at hand. They unleashed their full hatred, incited to do so by their officers and commissars, who were desperate to advance, so as to rise in the ranks and not end up in a mass grave somewhere in Lyscania. It was one or the other...victory or death.

It wasn't going to be a cakewalk, after all.

The Coast

The constant fire from the bunkers was really a pain in the ass for the marines, so they kept the artillery and naval guns going after the defenses, with no mercy for the locals at all. The Damocleans were not about to let anyone get between them and their goals, so they continued hammering, in spite of the horrendous death toll. Already, at least 1 marine in 10 was dead, but they soldiered on, fighting a steel within that reflected their inner resources. It was payback of sorts for the defeat in Greymark, which had killed so many of their friends and kindred, now a chance to redeem themselves from those dark days....

....the pirates turned marines were not going to give up the fight this time, not by all of the Gods and spirits that their commissars denied. It was either conquer or die, and conquer they would, for the Party and the State!

[Lyscania]

Lyscaneum
It was perhaps because of the collective fear of the people of the capital that they focused on the Feast of Lyscaneum Hegemonas. For many people it was a day of discounts at bars and restaurants, parties and enjoyment at theme parks. It was not so much that they didn't believe in their peril--but many of them had been filling sandbags, donating clean boiled cloth for extra bandages, helping build roadblocks and evacuate children and vulnerable families and the sick, had been watching their brothers, husbands, cousins and friends joining up with new military units (that had little to no real equipment) and had been listening to or reading instructions on civil defense--they needed something to look forward to, and the Archons had agreed that the Feast should proceed.

The Feast of Lscaneum Hegemonas in part began as though for a wedding; the ‘guests’ (the inhabitants of the city as well as people attending from other parts of Lyscania and even foreign lands) dressed in their very best garments or official garments and with garlands on. Officials who were not particular worshippers might be called upon to act as part of the honour guard as the Priests and Priestesses rode in gilded chariots through the city wearing diaphanous gowns that silhouette their beautiful bodies. The High Priestess of Athene was in a golden chariot decorated on the sides with images of owls, on the front with the image of the shield of Pallas, pulled by white horses. Flutes and drums and horns announced the departure of the High Priestess from her house (the Temple).

Among those observing were foreign ambassadors and consuls who along along with the grander dignitaries smiling and waving at people, with attendant slaves throwing goods and coins to the people. Tyndarea’s household slervants throw fresh bread, flasks of wine, and gold and silver coins, showing the Archons’ generosity. Though the slaves are supposed to be dressed in ‘homely garments’ many of the richer hegemons’ toy with this concept. For example one was wearing a ‘simple blue tunic’ which is so sheer that it clings to her every curve provocatively, while another was wearing a plain white tunic of fine wool with a weave open enough that her skin tones are revealed.

At the Temple of Ares, the god is revealed to be lying on a low marble slab carved to resemble swirling smoke and fire His eyelids appear to be closed. This alone is strange, for normally the statue is majestically standing with a flaming sword (realistically painted) and clothed in orange, purple and white robes, majestic and menacing. Now he lies naked, his flaccid manhood lying in the hollow of his thigh.

The assembly of worshippers in the Temple of Ares sit in a kind of theatre of tiered steps so that they can all see what is happening. Two files of Ares’ priests emerge from side chambers and are wearing battered worn armor as though they have been in battle. They proclaim that the god is exhausted and worn from his defense of the city. They implore the god to awaken—he does not. “Without strength, how can the Archonate stand?” cries out the High Priest.

Gold, fine wine, jewels, robes, weapons and food are offered to the god, sacrifices of animals are made, a lamb, a goat, an ox. The smell of blood fills the room, yet it does not awaken Ares. The meat is roased, yet the aroma does not stir the god. The High Priest removes his armor, throws down his weapons in despair.

Then the sound of female voices singing is heard. The priestesses of Athene arrive with an air of happy gaiety. The High Priestess arrives, her diaphanous gown almost glowing with the flawless skin beneath it, her hair like a cloud beneath her diadem. Two of her attendants divest her of her robe, and completely naked, she goes to the platform the god rests upon, and whispers into the carved ear, strokes the powerful shoulders, kisses and toys with the god. The god Ares awakens—the eyelids open, as it swings upward, sitting upon the platform, somehow it can be seen to be aroused…the High Priestess compelled to sit upon the statue’s lap as somehow it moves in erotic rhythm. The braziers and urns of the theatrical ritual chamber come magically alight.

The Archons (or their family or client representatives), ambassadors, clients and household are permitted to watch from a gallery if they so choose. Following this there is public feasting; what decorum exists for Lyscaneum is abolished for a full day; parties go on in the streets, in insulae and in domuses and in villas. In this way the citizens desperately hope that the mating of fury and craft in war will invoke the gods’ help in obtaining victory. General Pleiades and his cohorts may have other plans, but it is known that one must be wise in how one deals with the people’s fears and concerns…

The Border

At Heraclea, the once beautiful little city stood out in stark relief. It was blackened by soot, pockmarked by hundreds of craters, laced by the twisted girders of ruined buildings. Blocks of apartment buildings were gone, and the outer neighborhoods had vanished. In the face of the Damoclean counterthrust the Hyakinthos Battalion fell back under covering fire; even losing one tank to every Damoclean five to ten was crippling for the Lyscanians; they couldn’t afford to lose any, and so they hastily retreated under smoke again, and in the outskirts the rear area tanks and supporting artillery were blazing away to enable them to withdraw. In the wasteland that had once been broad roads and streets trails were used among the rubble to pull back in the shadow of roofless and windowless buildings gutted by the enemy heavy rocket and artillery fire. As running militia and rumbling tanks and apcs fell back in the canyons of smashed brick and tortured steel, the V-22 swooped overhead, undetected as yet, and let the fuel bomb fall in the path of the advancing Damocleans—and in the resulting explosion, the very air was sucked out of the atmosphere around them in a wide radius, and flames spread along fields and roads alike, rising in a towering column of flame and smoke. Colonel Diomedes, his eyes stung even under his protective goggles, saw the crunched and destroyed fountain that had depicted naiads frolicking outside the Athenaeum, and he felt a cold bitterness—so much beauty destroyed by barbarians who would not even appreciate what they had brutally destroyed.

Terpsichore

Exhausted, General Antipas, from his more protected bunker 6 km away from the beachhead was directing the defense—only he knew it was a pretense. At this point it was just a matter of holding desperately. They had no real reserves to speak of; some had to be retained for Lyscaneum and some of the interior, and all he could hope was that his hastily assembled militia could hold off the enemy for enough hours that the Damocleans would have to rethink the assault. If they dug into the beach it would just keep going, and the Damocleans could ultimately hope to rotate in new forces. Al he could give those who begged for reinforcements, for more water, medical supplies, ammunition, was his best wishes.

Major Cleon served out the last of his water to his staff, everyone taking a generous gulp. It had all been planned so hastily; they had sent militia for water two hours ago; none had returned. He looked everyone in the eye.

He had been a regular soldier, then had gone into civilian life, becoming a small town litigant specializing in wills and contracts, and had remained in the army partly because there had been a need to maintain social status, and also because there was a greater trust in people who supported the Archonate directly. No one had dreamed that Damoclea, struggling under the Judges to maintain order, would go Communist and expansionist after the days of adventurism on the large island had ended. And now…he wondered if he would ever see his wife’s face again, or those of his children. He had last made sure that they would evacuate farther towards the capital. No time to think of it now.

“Gentlemen, we are going to attempt a sortie. We haven’t enough ammunition to keep holding them into the night; if we do this we may buy time for other units to receive more ammunition and keep pounding their flanks as they advance.” He looked at everyone’s faces; one of the RTOs looked like he was going to be sick; his executive officer’s eyes filled with tears even as he nodded firmly. They checked their weapons.

In three of his bunkers, there were flamethrower teams. The plan was that they would be covered by the first rush of the sortie, using grenades and machineguns to slow the enemy’s advance, then sweep flames over them.

And so as they came, with the sun dipping to spread an orange light and shadows everywhere along the ruined beach area, they were black against the light, hunched and running among the rubble of other huts and bunkers, grenades hurled by many hands, machineguns fired from the hip, and suddenly, scorching and terrible, the flames sweeping out.