[Earth II] Die Sonne Scheint

[Layarteb]

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Die Sonne Scheint


Figure 1.1: Physical map of Caucasus Region [3119 x 2392].


Figure 1.2: Political map of Georgia [3033 x 2244].

Basic Facts
Adjara is a small, autonomous republic of Georgia. It is 2,900 km² in area and home to 400,000 people. The republic is located along the Black Sea, in Georgia's southwestern corner. It borders Turkey to the south.

Adjara is 63% Georgian Orthodox, 30% Muslim, 2.3% Armenian Christian, 0.2% Roman Catholic, and 4.5% other. The populace is known as the Adjarians or Ajars and they speak a dialect of the Georgian language known as Adjarian. Their written language is Georgian.

The Adjarian people are largely segregated by Tbilisi and the remainder of the Georgian people, largely in part to their different dialect and their perceived isolation in the country's southwestern quarter.

Adjara has a flat coastline but its interior is mountainous and forested. The highest mountains rise to an altitude of 3,000 meters and 60% of the country is forested. The climate is humid and there are prolonged rainy seasons. Spring and summer months yield plentiful sunshine. Precipitation in Adjara is the highest in the Caucasus. September and October are normally the wettest months and the country has cool and warm summers with cold winters. Temperatures in summer range from 60°F – 75° and in winter from 19°F to 43°F on average.

Adjara is favorable to the growing of tea, citrus fruits, and tobacco. Tobacco, tea, citrus fruits, and avocados are leading crops; livestock raising is also important. Industries include tea packing, tobacco processing, fruit and fish canning, oil refining, and shipbuilding. Adjara is home to many health spas and it plays a vital role in tourism for the greater state of Georgia. Its oil refineries handle oil from the Caspian and it is a key route for oil flowing from Azerbaijan. Oil from Azerbaijan is often loaded into ships in the Black Sea from Adjarian facilities.

Adjara's capital, Batumi rests on the coastline and it is home to 180,000 people.

Background
Since independence from the Soviet Union, Adjara has been largely ignored by the Georgian capital and government. What economic benefits it provides are largely taken with little reciprocation. Tbilisi largely regards Adjara as a place of "second-class citizens" opting instead to utilize their resources and benefits rather than assisting its people. For that reason, Adjara's standard of living is significantly lower than that of Georgia-proper. Adjarians are subtly persecuted throughout the country and there is little employment opportunities for the Adjarians outside of Adjara.

Throughout the 1990s, the Georgian government largely turned a blind eye to any troubles within Adjara. Because of poverty and different treatment, crime in Adjara steadily climbs throughout the decade with the rise of small but effective organized crime syndicates. These syndicates largely perpetuate the troubles of Adjara by trafficking illegal drugs, people, and exploiting the people of Adjara to financial ruin. Batumi and other large cities are heavily penetrated by these organizations, which have reach into the political process in both Adjara and Tbilisi. Law enforcement and government officials are widely considered corrupt and on the payroll of many of these organizations.

Between 2000 and 2004, human trafficking in Adjara was the number one crime committed against young girls under the age of sixteen, followed by rape. Drug addiction in the cities is high with opium-based drugs being the most popular thanks to the cheapness and the abundance of these products. Because of the rise in crime, the tourism industry in Adjara has been on the decline since the mid-90s. Oil pipelines and other industries essential to the Georgian government are largely protected by Georgian troops and there is indiscriminate reprisal against Adjarians who venture too close to these assets. Tbilisi, ever smart to the political landscape ensures that the Soviet syndicates are unharmed and it continues to pass on economic benefits to the Soviets.

Beginning in 2003, Adjara entered a major economic dive thanks to the collapse of the United Federation of Eurasia. The successor Council of Turkish States, in full control over Turkey are unable to assist the Adjarians economically due to their own difficulties. Crime skyrockets as a result.

In 2007, after four years of economic ruin, crime syndicates in Adjara have grown so powerful that they openly challenge the Georgian government in Tbilisi. In consequence, the Georgian government issues a crackdown in Adjara in late 2007 that lasts for nine months. The crackdown only gives more power to the crime syndicates at the expense of innocent Adjarians. Owing to the perceived apathy of the Adjarians to the crime organizations, Tbilisi begins further persecution of the Adjarians by denying them opportunities and benefits within Adjara. This only adds to the crime syndicates' numbers and by 2010, it cements in major, open demonstrations in Adjara against Georgian rule.

Between March and June 2010, protests over Georgian rule nearly paralyze Batumi, Kobuleti, Keda, and Khulo, Adjara's four major cities. Tbilisi, in an effort to exploit the Adjarians further, announces reforms and promises more recognition to the Adjarians. The protests quiet down but only temporarily. In April 2011, after no perceived change, the Adjarians begin openly protesting again, this time bringing their protests to Tbilisi. As a result, Georgian police crackdown heavily on the Adjarians and begin arresting known dissents and "troublemakers" throughout Georgia and Adjara. In Tbilisi, the protests are broken up forcibly and violently with many Adjarians arrested and injured; several dozen are killed. The Georgian military does the same in Adjara's major cities but with only slightly less violence. The number of casualties is only marginally smaller.

Following this wave of crackdowns, the Adjarians seek international assistance but due to the general apathy around the world, they are left unsupported. Beginning in the late spring of 2011, the Georgian military begins ethnic cleansing in the rural parts of Adjara in hopes of removing the less defendable Adjarians first. They plan to work their way to the major cities over the course of several years. Tbilisi, aware that it cannot move too quickly lest it incur international wrath, commits its actions as quietly and subtly as is possible.

Throughout 2011 and 2012, the Georgians effectively genocide approximately 15,000 Adjarians are killed and buried by Georgian forces. Careful to keep evidence out of the public eye, the Georgians commit most of their crimes during the night and in the heavily forested areas of Adjara.

In early 2013, the Adjarians begin a guerilla campaign against Georgian forces, focusing their low-intensity attacks in the rural areas of the country, where Georgian troops are operating. Several key attacks by the Adjarian rebels kill over 50 Georgian troops between January and April 2013 though at considerable loss to their own numbers. Georgian troops estimate as many as 200 rebels are killed in the same period and Tbilisi orders the ethnic cleansing to intensify in the wake of the rebel activity. In late-April 2013, Georgian troops begin Operation Reclamation in an attempt to gain total control over Adjara. They are careful about warning pro-Soviet syndicates to ensure that the Soviet government turns a blind eye to the activities in Adjara.

Operation Reclamation sweeps westward with Georgian troops moving south on Highway E70 towards Batumi and west on Batumi-Akhaltsikhe road, a treacherous mountain road that is 158 km long with 116 km of that in Adjara. By May 30, 2013, Georgian troops have captured both roads and the towns and cities along these two routes. However, their control along the Batumi-Akhaltsikhe road is shaky at best. Despite being in control of these major routes, Georgian forces come under increasing harassment during the month of June, mostly along the Batumi-Akhaltsikhe road. Their control over the coastline exists uncontested. From April onward, the Adjarians begin to lobby the Empire of Layarteb for assistance against the Georgian government. However, owing to the location of Adjara, the recent Sinaean-Layartebian War, the Eritrean Conflict, the Cyprus Incident, and the overall state-of-tension within the Theocracy of Amigard, the Empire is reluctant to get involved. Georgia and Adjara also lie within the Soviet sphere of influence and the Empire is reluctant to commit sizeable enough forces to the Black Sea in order to dislodge the Georgian government.

By June 30, 2013, Georgian forces have extended their ethnic cleansing and genocide of the Adjarians from 15,000 in the beginning of the year to 30,000. Operation Reclamation, which concluded on May 31, 2013 added a further 5,500 Adjarians to that total for 35,500 overall Adjarians killed by Georgian forces since mid-2011.

Situation
As of July 1, 2013, the Georgian military is in control over Adjara. They control the entire coastline of the country and most of the route along the Batumi-Akhaltsikhe Road. They arefacing an increasingly hostile resistance of Adjarian rebels but these rebels are lightly armed and they lack the true discipline needed to tango with the Georgian forces, which are supported by the Soviet government.

Georgian troops are tolerant of the crime syndicates in Batumi and throughout the country and they give an especially wide berth to any linked to the Soviet government. They are actively pursuing a campaign of genocide and ethnic cleansing against Adjarian civilians but they are mainly focusing their activities in the rural areas, instead opting to isolate those Adjarians living along the coastline, which is most of the country's populace.

Appeals by the Adjarians to the world have fallen on deaf ears. Since Operation RECLAMATION has concluded, the Adjarians have been lobbying the Empire of Layarteb for assistance but heavy reluctance from the Empire of Layarteb remains a major obstacle. With the Soviets turning a blind eye to Tbilisi's activities, the Adjarians are facing inevitable extermination at the hands of the Georgian military and the various crime syndicates.

As the summer of 2013 concludes, the Empire of Layarteb remains heavily reluctant. When it becomes evident that the Theocracy of Amigard is in no position to help and the reluctance of the Empire of Layarteb will likely not abate enough, the Adjarians begin to court the newest power in the region, the Kingdom of Persia, much to the dismay of the Georgian government. In response to the successful destruction of an Al Shams cell in eastern Persia in October 2013, the Kingdom of Persia begins to lobby the Empire of Layarteb for assistance in Adjara. At the same time, Azerbaijan becomes apprised to the situation and the Azerbaijani government begins to pressure the Georgian government to cease its activities against the Adjarian people.

In November 2013, the successful lobbying of the Kingdom of Persia manages to break the reluctance of the Empire of Layarteb and the 14th Amphibious Ready Group deploys to the Black Sea, arriving in theater on November 18. The 14th Marine Division, along with the 14th Marine Support Group deploys to staging bases in northeastern Turkey, poised to invade the Adjarian region. As a condition for the Empire of Layarteb's involvement, the Empire of Layarteb gets the Kingdom of Persia to agree not to take the war all the way to Tbilisi. Reluctantly, the Kingdom of Persia agrees.

[Layarteb]

November 20, 2013 - 09:30 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

The Emperor and his war planning committee sat around the multifunctional display in the War Room. Buried deep underneath the Fortress of Comhghall, it was the most advanced room, per say, in the entire castle. It was more than a room though; it was a command center, built for the Emperor in the 1980s and updated several times since, in order to keep the room as technologically advanced as possible, LED displays and touch screens allowed for sharp resolution and lightning quick response. The multifunctional displays allowed the planners to review maps and the ongoing battle, with virtually little delay. The Emperor had been in this room dozens upon dozens upon hundreds of times before and this morning, it was just like every other morning.

"Run it down for me," he said as he walked into the room, addressing the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the military's highest-ranking officer. In the Imperial Layartebian Military, brigadier generals through generals wore one to four stars, in a line. Each branch of the military was led by a five-star general, whose stars formed a pentagon. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs added a sixth star, dead center in the pentagon and only one man held that rank at any given time.

"Sir, Operation GOLDEN PLATYPUS is as follows. At present, the air force has its main logistical component situated at Incirlik Air Base in Adana. In Diyarbakir, we have stationed shorter ranged fighters and fighter-bombers, taking advantage of the closer distance to the Adjarian border. Lastly, in Maku in Persia, near to the northwestern border, we have stationed more fighters and fighter-bombers. Due to the distances required, our air force fighters will have to refuel before reaching Georgian airspace. We have set up various corridors for this over northeastern Turkey. Despite the political situation in the country, these grids are safe.

"Now sir, moving over to the navy, the main component of the 14th Amphibious Ready Group is stationed here in the Black Sea, situated twenty to eight nautical miles from the Georgian coastline. The 14th Marine Support Group has moved back into the Mediterranean Sea. The 14th Marine Division is split to three locations. The 53rd Marine Bridge remains aboard the naval vessels, preparing to launch via air and hovercraft. The 54th and 55th Marine Brigades are deployed to the forward base in Sarp, Turkey. The 56th Marine Brigade is forward deployed to Kazimiye, Turkey.

"The Persians have a special forces element in theater aboard our warships and also at Sarp. The Azerbaijanis are sitting neutral but they have closed the border with Georgia and reinforced it heavily. One false move along the border and these two countries are going to war. Armenia is entirely avoiding the situation, having closed its borders as well. They have not stationed as many forces alongside their border though and intelligence indicates that the likelihood of Armenian involvement in miniscule.

"The big worry is Russia sir." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said, taking a pause to drink some of his coffee. "Sir, as you know, they have been protesting loudly to our presence in the Black Sea and to intervening in Georgian domestic affairs. Kiev has deployed the majority of the Russian Navy into the Black Sea at our back door just to be a nuisance. They know we're not going to attack Sevastopol and the Crimea but they're not taking any chances. Maritime patrols by bombers have increased tenfold and their air defense battalions have all gone to high alert sir."

"What about their nuclear forces Chairman?"

"Sir, those remain on normal alert levels for now, thankfully. The last element in this situation is the Adjarian Revolutionary Force. These people have been fighting the Georgians ever since the genocide campaign started. The ARF is ill equipped and they are not terribly disciplined. They're a ragtag force, to put it best but they are highly motivated and this is their land. They know the territory better than the Georgians even and they are highly receptive to a division of Marines backing them up, along with artillery and airpower of course.

"The ARF will be coordinating the Marines but they're mainly going to be interacting with Persian Special Forces and JSOC sir." The Emperor reviewed the map with the positioning of not only Layartebian, Persian, and Adjarian forces but also Georgian, Russian, Armenian, and Azerbaijani forces. The map looked cluttered and he said as much.

"It looks like a tornado swept through here."

"Sir, that it does," the Chairman responded with a smile.

"The Georgians know what is coming, what preparations have they been making?"

"Sir, the Georgians are digging in and hunkering down. They have placed all of their military assets on high alert. They have a slew of advanced, Russian weaponry that they have received thanks to the criminal connection in Tbilisi. The Russians have pushed some good equipment into the Georgian military so we're not going to be fighting a ragtag force.

"The initial phase of operations is going to see the 53rd Marine Brigade assault directly onto the coastline. Special forces will head to Batumi initially. The other Marine brigades will move north up Highway E70 out of Turkey and into Adjara, heading also for the capital. Blocking positions will be established to the north of Batumi. Once the capital is secured, we are going to deploy Marines eastward along the Batumi-Akhaltsikhe Road. The goal is to trap the Georgians in Adjara where we can whittle away at them, dig-in, and prevent further reinforcements sir."

The Emperor nodded his head but grumbled, "Gentlemen, I don't like this plan." The Emperor wasn't the only one who thought this and neither was he the first to express as much. "I feel as if we're going into Adjara with too few men and with too limited of a scope. We know that the Russians are propping up Georgia so if we take the fight to Tbilisi we risk their getting involved. That much the Persians understand, even if they don't want to accept it. Using the full Persian military also runs the risk of catastrophe. The Russians still haven't forgiven the Persians for Grozny and the Persians have no love for the Russians. The Azerbaijanis would also be anti-Persian involvement. The true scope of that is beyond our reckoning right now."

"So here we are, in a crap sandwich. If we commit the forces we need to push out the Georgians and make Adjara safe for the Adjarians then we risk a Russo-Layartebian war. That may happen one day but if it does, it won't be over the Caucasus. It isn't worth the bloodshed. If we get the Persians involved fully then we risk fighting the Azerbaijanis and the Russians again. If the Azerbaijanis get involved it gets out of control since they won't be cooperating with us. Then again, the Russians get involved to help the Georgians and they will likely take Baku since that is the oil hub of the continent.

"I'm far from delighted by these circumstances but look at where we stand? Ah," the Emperor said, frustrated. "What are the chances that the Georgians will take our ultimatum seriously?"

"Sir, they'll take it seriously but they've got their big brother backing them up so they're not going to just put down the genocide campaign. They might even intensify it over the next two days, just to slaughter as many Adjarians as they can before they have to send their bullets and grenades against us sir."

"Chairman, tell me, an honest assessment, will the ARF live up to what they have promised?"

Dead, eerie silence filled the room. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs was a straight shooter whose favorite phrase was "an honest no-shit assessment" but here he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The Emperor hadn't given the final approval to the operation so it hung in the balance. If he revealed just how poorly equipped, trained, and prepared the ARF was, the Emperor could call the whole thing off and damage the Empire's political credibility. One cannot make threats of action, move an entire military into the theater, and then just back down and call it all off without consequences.

On the other hand, if the operation went forward, Layartebians were going to die, plain and simple. Losing the war was a possibility and at this point, all of this could just be for show, insofar as he was concerned. He needed to choose his words wisely, alluding to both outcomes but not pushing the Emperor's decision either way. "Sir, the ARF remains staunchly in our corner for action," he began, tiptoeing around the issue. "They have the numbers and with our leadership, they can be used more effectively than if they were shooting out of the trees sir."

The Emperor listened very carefully and he instantly knew where his Chairman stood. That put a major monkey wrench in everything. "Chairman, is that your honest assessment?"

"Sir it is sir."

"Then we have bigger fish to fry. The ARF aren't going to hold up, I can hear it in your voice."

"Sir, I apologize, I just don't know how best to answer you without steering your decision sir."

"All right," the Emperor rubbed his eyes. He was tired, exhausted mentally from this Adjarian business. The Empire had been vehemently opposed to the action but after requests by the Persians, the Romans, and some of the Turks, the Empire was backed into something of a corner. The Persians had given the Empire everything it had asked for and now it asked for something in return. Simply, to say "No," could damage a budding relationship. The Romans and the Turks went back a long way with the Empire and so their requests carried some weight. "What a mess, if we back down now we're weak in front of the whole world, in Russia's own backyard. If we go forward, we run the serious risk of a greater, global war, defeat, or a pyrrhic victory. Do we have any other options then?"

More silence filled the room, ultimately, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs spoke up, "Sir, these are the best of our bad options. It does us no good to think about what we 'should have done' sir."

"You're right, we're committed to this, and we're going to see it through. Very well, I will authorize the ultimatum to go at 17:00 Zulu tomorrow. That's 21:00 in Tbilisi. On November 23, at 17:30 Zulu, if they haven't backed down, we're going to war. My final approval will come at 17:00 Zulu Saturday." As the Emperor stood, so too did everyone else in the room. Sullen, distressed faces saluted back as the Emperor departed and returned to his office.

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November 21, 2013 - 12:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

Cameras snapped as the Emperor took his place behind the podium in the press briefing room. The room fell silent once the reporters took their seats. Final preparations were made and the Emperor gave his pre-briefing synopsis, "Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon, and thank you for coming. This press briefing will not include questions and answers and I shall issue a brief summary concerning our presence in the Black Sea. You have no doubt seen the Russian condemnations to our presence."

Another thirty seconds elapsed before the Emperor was given the five-second countdown. A light in the back of the room flashed on and the Emperor began, "Ladies and gentlemen of the Empire and of the world, good afternoon. I come before you today to address the serious situation in the Adjarian region of Georgia. Throughout history, there have been tales of bullies and victims and my address this afternoon is yet another of a long series of such instances.

"The victims in this case are the Adjarian people and the bullies are the Georgians but this is not a simplified explanation. Ignored by the Georgian government and exploited by criminal entities both within Georgia and without, the Adjarian people have been forced to exist as second-class citizens in the Georgian nation.

"Over the past two and a half years, the Georgians have taken their treatment of the Adjarian people to a new low. Systematically, carefully, and through planned maneuvers, the Georgians have conducted a campaign of ethnic cleansing of the Adjarian people. Until early this year, their ethnic cleansing was left unanswered by both the world and the Adjarian people. Small, focused attacks since have brought the violence back to the Georgians occupying Adjara. In response, the Georgians have not ceased their ethnic cleansing but rather intensified it by launching an all-out military operation against the region.

"They have sought dominance over the Adjarian people, capturing roads and highways, preventing the movement of Adjarians throughout their own homeland. They have attacked, occupied, slaughtered, razed, and resettled villages at will. They have turned a blind-eye to criminal syndicates, increasing the power of these syndicates through indirect action.

"Despite their best efforts, the Adjarian people are routinely subjected to inhumane treatment by their Georgian occupiers. To date, over forty thousand Adjarians have been ethnically cleansed by the Georgian military and hundreds were killed each week.

"Tbilisi has shown that it does not value nor does it respect human life. If it did, this campaign of genocide would not happen. It is further troubling that this happens with tacit, if not covert approval from Kiev. This is the Soviet sphere of influence and it would not be happening without their say so.

"In response, the Empire has deployed military assets to the region, including the Black Sea, which has been widespread and public condemnation from Kiev. However, as our military assets are focused on Georgia and not on Russia it can only mean that Kiev is on the side of Tbilisi in this senseless and cowardly slaughter.

"Though Kiev believes it can intimidate the Empire, it is entirely wrong. Thus, the Georgian government has forty-eight hours, ending at 17:00 hours, Greenwich Mean Time, Saturday, November 23, 2013 to cease and desist its campaign of genocide against the Adjarian people. Compliance with this ultimatum is of the utmost cruciality to the continued existence of Tbilisi. Georgian troops are hereby required to pull out of the Adjara region, to turn over military commanders responsible for the crimes of genocide, and to recognize the independence of the Adjarian people, their region, and their sovereignty.

"Failure to comply will result in direct, punishing, and focused military action against the Georgian military. Thank you," the Emperor said, concluding his speech. In offices around the Empire, primarily those on military bases and at the Ministry of Defense, clocks were set and countdowns were begun. Forty-eight hours to go until the Georgian military received the full brunt of the Empire's deployed assets.

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November 21, 2013 - 21:00 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Maku, Iran
Maku Air Base
(39° 21' 27" N, 44° 27' 27" E)

Maku Air Base had only recently been repaired back to its former glory. Situated just a few kilometers from the border with Turkey, it was leveled and decimated during the Persian-Russian War. As a military base, Maku Air Base was a prime target for Russian bombers and fighters. Sixteen of Persia's fighters were destroyed on the ground at Maku Air Base and three others were shot down only minutes after they took to the skies. These air kills gave Russia some of its first air kills in a long time and each one of the Persian fighters stood no chance against the Russian Su-30M Flankers that descended upon them.

Now that it was restored, Maku Air Base was about to be another focal point in military conflict except that it wasn't going to be on the receiving end. The Empire of Layarteb had put several squadrons of fighters, fighter-bombers, and close-attack aircraft at Maku Air Base in order to attack Adjara and Georgia. Among those deployed was Major Adam "Outlaw" Fordham and his weapon system's operation, or WSO, Captain Robert "Merlin" Small. The two men and their squadron had been part of the campaign against the Joplin City-State the past June and now they were forward deployed to fight the "good fight" against Georgia.

MAJ Fordham was the leading ace in the Imperial Layartebian Military and the most decorated air force pilot in active service. H is full "salad," as it was called, showed a Silver Star, two Distinguished Flying Crosses, a Bronze Star with "V" device, a Purple Heart, now four Air Medals, an Air Force Commendation Medal, an Air Force Achievement Medal, a POW Medal, two Combat Readiness Medals, a Senior Pilot Rating, an Air Force Training Ribbon, a Small Arms Expert Marksmanship Ribbon, an Air Force Longevity Award, and all of his campaign ribbons.

He had flown in the Amazonian War, the First Mato Grossan War, the Isle of Man Campaign, the Goodrule Campaign, the Adanese War, the Persian Civil War, the Persian-Russian War, the Sinaean-Layartebian War, and the Joplin Campaign. He had nineteen total kills to his credit, including fifteen fighters, the bulk of which had come during the Sinaean-Layartebian War, where he shot down fifteen aircraft in total. He had also received eight of his medals in that same war, including the Purple Heart and the POW Medal.

Sitting alone in the O-Club, the two pilots had watched the Emperor's announcement and toasted a beer to one another. The Georgians had forty-eight hours to go and these two men would be totally dry for the last thirty-six of them, just so that they were honed and ready when the time came. "Back to war again," CPT Small said.

"Man Merlin what did you think they brought us here for? Sightseeing?"

"I was hoping to take in some of the local sand," CPT Small joked. Maku was a dreadfully boring place. It was small and it lacked the hustle and bustle of a city. They could have gone to Tabriz but at last minute, the Maku Air Base had been made available. It brought them closer to Georgia but only marginally so. They would still have to refuel before and after they crossed into Georgian airspace.

"Well you know why we're here now, as if you didn't before. They were quiet on the scuttlebutt this time but we still knew, obviously."

"Of course, the intel shop is tighter than a miser's asshole but they still slip up every now and then. So what do you figure, SEAD on the opening strikes?"

"I think we're going to be tasked with CAP. That'll maximize our fuel and reduce our drag from those heavy bombs. From what I gather, the navy is going to do the ground pounding and we're going to sit back and watch the skies for them. I don't know how they're going to accomplish all of it with so little firepower but we'll see. Planning isn't my department."

"Well I'll guess we know tomorrow," answered CPT Small as the loudspeaker pinged to life. "That has to be the announcement." It was and CPT Small laughed as MAJ Fordham bought him another beer for the guess.

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November 22, 2013 - 10:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Sarp, Turkey
FOB Corvette
(41° 30' 36" N, 41° 33' 15" E)

The coastal town of Sarp had been transformed into a military garrison and it seemingly happened overnight. Two brigades of Layartebian Marines had taken over the undeveloped parts of the town and set up several forward operating bases that they named after cars. FOB Corvette was named such because Lieutenant Colonel Charlie Tidwell, the commanding officer of the 373rd Marine Battalion, 160th Marine Regiment, 54th Marine Brigade, 14th Marine Division, owned a corvette and loved his car almost as much as he loved the Corps. His wife fell to a distant third and his kids, all of whom he detested for their lack of military spirit that he tried in vain to instill in them, were below even how he felt about the army.

Broad chested, LTC Tidwell was a favorite among his men because he wasn't the type of officer to sit in a Conex container and issue orders. He toured the battlefield, he got in the dirt with his men, and he never denied his men the assets they needed, so long as he had them available. When he didn't, he raised hell until he did. LTC Tidwell had started his Marine career as a platoon leader. At forty, he had been in the service now for twenty-two years, including the four years he did at Annapolis. He graduated with honors in 1995 after spending two years on the navy football team as a punter. As a second lieutenant, he was thrown right into the fray and sent to Kaliningrad, where his Marine platoon suffered few casualties but spent its entire time pulling back in anticipation of the Layartebian withdrawal. Four years later, he was fighting as a captain in charge of a company directing artillery where it was needed. He was known as always having salvos at the ready and drilling his gunners into the dirt. They hated him for it until it came time for a fire support mission, then his gunners went into action and all of that muscle memory led to a million cheering voices over the radio net as their rounds slammed home.

As a major, LTC Tidwell was executive officer of an assault battalion in the Pacific and now, as a lieutenant colonel, he was the commanding officer of one in the Atlantic. His reputation preceded him and LTC Tidwell arrived to quite a ceremony. Now he sat inside of a bivouac tent with his company commanders, company sergeants, platoon lieutenants, and platoon sergeants. The rest of the men would receive their briefing second hand. "Men, I don't have to bullshit you on this situation, it is FUBAR." He said, opening his briefing, "But FUBAR or not, we're going to do a better job than the rest of the Corps.

"Command has on the tip of the spear here. We're going in right behind 372nd Battalion and right up Highway E70 to Batumi. That's our goal, Batumi. We're going to be assisting special forces in securing the city. Armored will lead the charge but keep in mind that armored stays in their tanks. We're assault, which means that we dismount. Platoon lieutenants and sergeants, listen up, Batumi is in total control of the Georgia forces. We can and will expect a populace that is grateful for our arrival but to the point of hindrance. I do not want civilian casualties.

"We can expect that the Georgians will use the civilians as human shields, just to muddy our morale and to take the moral high ground away from us. It's going to be street-to-street, building-to-building for a while. SOF has their own priorities and you can bet that they won't coincide with ours. They're going to be moving like a bat out of hell trying to cut off the Georgians and capture the high value targets. If you get in their way, you can expect that they'll just shove you aside. We all know how those cowboys are but that's just the way of warfare.

"When we hit the city, I want to make sure that we don't run into any ambushes. For that reason, I'm putting Recce on the lead. You're going to spot the targets for us and we're going to take care of them. Alpha Company, you're on first push, you've got the heavy armament. If Recce tells you of trouble, you've got the kill.

"Bravo Company, you're going take up the very rear, to keep the enemy from flanking us. I'm putting AT with you to avoid any chance that the enemy gets some good stuff behind us. You've got the most firepower so make sure you use it wisely. Charlie and Delta Companies, you're in the middle.

"The goal is this, we hit an area, cordon it off, squeeze it tight, and then we work on it. Alpha Company has the lead element; Bravo has the backside. Charlie and Delta will do the wet work.

"Now this is going to be a mess. There's going to be callsigns going out over the net like you wouldn't believe but remember, we're the tip of the spear. That's going to give us some priority, not a lot but some. If you need air or you need artillery you call it in but make sure, you aren't wasting the assets. Attack helicopters and artillery won't be unlimited so we're going to need to conserve what we can when we can. If you can neutral an ambush point with a missile or a tank shot you do it, don't call in artillery or a bomb sortie. I want to save that for when we really need it. Remember, we've got the civilian problem so authorizing air has to be a last resort. You know that even when they hit, they still miss, especially the artillery.

"Our objective here is speed on the way to Batumi. Let the 53rd Brigade handle the highway, we're moving hell on wheels to Batumi and when we get there, we're going to dig in, take a corner of the city, and cleanse it of these scumbags in the Georgian military. Any questions?"

[Novacron]

RPAF Maku, West Azerbaijan Province, Kingdom of Persia
Saturday 23rd November 2013, 0900hrs
Wing Commander Kendrick Henche AFC DFM, Royal Persian Air Force

Royal Persian Air Force Station Maku had never intended to be a frontline station for the RPAF, rather it had been slated as a secondary airfield for the nearby RPAF Tabriz, the reasons for this were varied but essentially it had been decided that the damage was too great and the airfield too close to the border. When the entire affair in Georgia had come to ahead however this had changed somewhat, the Layartebians had finally agreed to cooperate and they needed an airfield to operate out of. RPAF Tabriz was far too busy already hosting an entire Wing of Typhoon FGR.4 Typhoons, so work had begun in earnest to get Maku back up to operational status and it was now how to a heavy Layartebian presence even if it formally remained a Persian Air Force Base. With the potential for operations in Georgia, especially given the fact that Special Forces were already on the ground, the RPAF had moved up two squadrons of F-15E Strike Eagles to provide longer-ranged strike fighters to supplement the Typhoons from Tabriz, just in case it all went to hell in there, and there was a damn good chance of that.

This was where Wing Commander Kendrick Henche came in. An experienced pilot from before the Dark Years, whilst many of the air force pilots had served during those years and made it out alive, Henche was one of the few who had been flying a modern fighter at the time and had distinguished himself in combat against Russian fighters, becoming a bonafide fighter ace in his own right, and had been retroactively awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal for these feats. He had subsequently been one of the few pilots to fight in the Amigardian War with what few planes remained, and earned the Air Force Cross for his heroism, routinely flying into heavy enemy fire to provide air support for beleaguered troops on the ground. When the time had come to decide a senior officer to represent the RPAF in this, its first offensive action of its short existence, no one had looked much further than Wing Commander Henche. He flew Typhoons as a matter of course, but right now his role was overseeing the strike fighters forward deployed in support of the combined Persian-Layartebian special forces operations, and if the word was true then the major military operations that were due in the near future.

On the morning of the day on which the Layartebian Ultimatum ran out Wing Commander Henche was in the Visiting Officer Quarters on the southern side of the airfield. As he dressed for the day, into a flight suit due to both the generally operational nature of the base and the likelihood that one way or another he might have to fly soon. RPAF Flight suits were khaki in colour as standard; his wings were worn on the left shoulder, his name tap over the right, his squadron patch worn on the upper right arm and the patch of the Royal Persian Air Force on the left. As he pulled on his flight boots he considered what the day would hold. Very few people who knew the intricacies of this entire affair believed that the Georgians would bend to the ultimatum, which meant that the Layartebians, and Persia, would be unable to do anything except follow through on the threats to back up their words by military force, no matter how many people would die to get it done.

Henche didn’t know what to think about the entire affair. On the one hand there was a genocide taking place in extremely close proximity to the Kingdom, was that really something that Persia could allow to happen in its backyard? On the other hand although Persia had come on in leaps and bounds over the past few months was it really the right time to start involving itself in regional affairs? Ultimately the decision had been made to strongly support intervention on the part of the Layartebians, but that it was extremely impractical for Persia to do it, and after a great deal of lobbying they had managed to get the Layartebians to agree to the operation, with a great deal of Persian support. The Persian Military had been tasked with providing as much logistical and combat support as possible, as well as epical operations force, but it was generally accepted that the main troops on the ground would be Layartebian unless the situation changed dramatically. It was the best of both worlds, although Henche suspected that even if the Layartebians were able to enforce the initial order, it would be Persia that would take on the long-term peacekeeping role.

Henche made his way out of his quarters and along the relatively short distance to his ad hoc air wing’s temporary operations room where he looked briefly over the maintenance reports that had come about since the last time he had been on duty. This side of things, quite frankly, bored him. He would much rather be flying a fighter into combat, but he knew deep down that despite his relative youth that this entire posting was just one step on his way to being promoted up the chain of command. As an experienced pilot he was both essentially needed at his current position, but also undeniably needed at higher levels where he could pass on that experience to other men and women who would defend Persia from her enemies in the skies. He had managed to make use of his relatively senior rank to get his new Typhoon flown out here and fully intended to fly combat sorties, even if it was only, for the most part, in an oversight role given that F-15Es superiority over the Typhoon in the missions that they were likely to carry out, all things considered it was better than nothing.

“Good morning Michelle,” Henche smiled as he entered the pilots ready room where Squadron Leader Michelle Al-Ghazi was sat in one of the seats doing paperwork. “Big day today.”

Al-Ghazi smiled. She had been one of many women to break the traditional boundaries during the Amigardian War. She had flown old-generation strike fighters against enemy targets during the war and had herself been awarded the Air Force Cross for her consistent and prolonged bravery during the campaign. They had flown together numerous times and when Henche had been ordered to pick two squadrons to take with him to Maku picking Al-Ghazi had been a no-brainer. She was the senior of the two squadron commanders, and whenever he couldn’t justify going into combat himself, she would serve as the ranking Persian officer in the air. Henche himself was a strong supporter of women in the military, in his eyes they had more than proven themselves during the Amigardian War, and with the dramatic secularisation of Persia, hammered through by King Darius on the coattails of the nearest-catastrophe in Persia’s long history that was the years since that dreadful day when the Islamic controlled government had sanctioned the assault on the Layartebian Embassy in Tehran.

Never again, many in the military and government had promised themselves, never again would they allow religion to become such a detrimental force in the Kingdom of Persia.

“Indeed,” Al-Ghazi agreed with a slight smile. “About time, my Strike Eagles have been sat on the flight line for the past week and a half.”

“We’re going now,” Henche chided gently. “We’re going to be pretty busy I think.”

“Indeed,” Al-Ghazi nodded. “Did you see the latest intelligence reports from the Special Ops teams?”

“Yes, they’ve got some pretty good OPs up by the sounds of it,” Henche nodded. “Bet the Army’s glad to have a special forces force again, can’t imagine they liked leaving it to the Marines.”

“I wouldn’t expect so,” Al-Ghazi laughed, the historic rivalry between the Army and Marines was as old as time, but it was also as fierce as the degree to which one would go to protect the other when the shit really hit the fan. “I can’t imagine they’re having fun up there, end of autumn, be pouring down up there…”

Harbour Area, Somewhere in Adjara, The Republic of Georgia
Saturday 23rd November 2013, 0900hrs
Major Faris Haythan CGC, 1st Special Forces Group, Royal Persian Army

All told there were eighty-four members of the Persian Special Forces community on the ground in Georgia, all provided by the Persian Army Commandos, this might not seem a lot until you considered both the individual effectiveness of each soldier but also their experience and skills. Six separate teams and a company headquarters element were on the ground, at any given time two teams were in observation positions, another two were actively patrolling the countryside and the other two were on rest. The company headquarters team and the two resting operational teams were based out of the main harbour area in-country; it was an area very well hidden, but underneath a great deal of camouflage nettings and carefully arranged natural foliage was not only sleeping areas for over three dozen men but communications and other equipment that were essential in co-ordinating the actions of the operational teams in the field. It was set up to be well defended, the area around it well patrolled and there was a great deal of contingencies in place in case the enemy started coming towards them in force, to either defend the base or withdraw after destroying anything of intelligence value.

Major Faris Haythan, Officer Commanding of D Company, 2nd Battalion of the 1st Special Forces Group, was one of the Persian Army’s most decorated and experienced special forces officers. He had come to prominence during the Amigardian War, leading the teams that had remained behind as the enemy had steadily pushed Persian lines back, hitting the enemy from behind the lines and generally wrecking the havoc that had prevented the enemy from overwhelming the last lines of Persian defence. It had been during Shiraz Counteroffensive, where then-Admiral Darius had finally had enough and authorised the do-or-die counter offensive that that helped end the war, that Haythan’s team, caught behind enemy lines had held off the enemy for over twenty-four hours, engaging in fierece close quarters and hand to hand combat during that time. For both his leadership during the engagement and his selfless acts saving some of his men he had been awarded the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross, the second highest award for gallantry in the Persian Armed Forces, second only to the Persia Cross. He name was known across the Kingdom, probably one of the reasons why he had stuck with a Tier Two organisation rather than going into black operations in Tier One, but he was happy where he was.

Right now his deployed company was observing a number of key enemy positions so that when the Georgians didn’t comply with the Layartebian ultimatum they could be taken out. Most would be hit by strike fighters, indeed a number of enemy positions had already been marked, although some would be subject to a raid by his forces to gather intelligence, or if the target was too close to civilians, this entire affair would need to win the hearts and minds of the locals, blowing them up with bombs didn’t tend to work, traditionally. When the word was given they would engage the enemy with extreme prejudice, the idea was to intimidate the enemy in the hopes of averting a large-scale war, and there was nothing more intimidating than a series of unexpected strikes far behind the frontlines. As far as either Major Haythan himself or Persian Intelligence knew the enemy didn’t even know they were here. That of course was for when the deadline ran out, the recon they were doing now was extra as they had already gathered the mission-vital information, it was better than a case of ‘hurry up and wait’.

Major Haythan glanced out from his own shelter, it wasn’t a tent so much as it was a camouflage sheet suspended as little above the ground as justifiable to keep the rain off, and by god was it raining. They seemed to be slap bang in the middle of one of the wet seasons, and for someone who hailed from southern Persia, it was not something he was used to. But he had discovered it was actually ideal for special forces work, it disguised noise whilst also removing tracks on light paths and generally limiting visibility in general. It also tended to make normal soldiers miserable, especially if they were standing sentry duty, and if they weren’t paying attention to their duties then they would be a whole lot easier to avoid, trick or just generally not be seen by. Haythan was looking forward to this entire affair, he like many in Persia had watched the events happening only a few hundred miles from them but had known that Persia could not really afford to get involved directly. He had been pleased when the King had managed to find a solution.

Soon enough they would be going in, until then all he had to do was sit here and wait.

[Layarteb]

November 22, 2013 - 18:00 hrs [UTC+4]
Black Sea
14th Amphibious Ready Group, Caracas-class, ILS Valencia (LHD-22)
(41° 49' 30" N, 41° 8' 55" E)

The 367th Battalion of the Imperial Layartebian Marine Corps was a marine infantry battalion, an 800-man light infantry force that could be deployed either on landing craft or via air assault. A marine division had four such battalions within it, all situated in its expeditionary, or first brigade. The composition of the marine infantry battalion was universal no matter what division. The leadership of the battalion was a 75-man HHC element that included the G-codes and the commanders' billet. Additionally, within the HHC was a 36-man auxiliary element of battalion-level combat support. The core of the battalion however, was made up of three, 187-man rifle companies, and a 128-man weapons company. The firepower a single marine infantry battalion could levy was something unsurpassed in historical warfare with anything less than a regiment.

Officially, the 367th Battalion was written as 367-53rd as it was part of the 53rd Marine Brigade. The various companies were designated by their letters, alpha through delta. However, the HHC element was designated by the letter hotel. The four specialty units of the auxiliary element of the HHC fell into a gray area and that suited them just fine. Six men made up the anti-aircraft element, their job being to fire MANPAD missiles at hostile aircraft; eight men comprised the fire support section, their job being to direct air and artillery fire; five men comprised the military police section, their job being to aggravate every Marine in the battalion; and seventeen men compromised the reconnaissance element, their job being to outdo every other Marine in the battalion.

"Recon Squad," as they liked to be called, was normally described by company commanders, other Marines, and HQ as a group of maladroit miscreant misfits. Company commanders hated ceding missions to Recon Squad and the G-code sections always felt a bit uneasy when they were around. Too gruff, even by Marine standards, they were generally considered badass motherfuckers by their peers and wannabes by SOF types. In short, men of reconnaissance squads fit nowhere, and they were accepted by nobody. To them, that was just fine and for Recon Squad, 367th Battalion, that moniker was worn proudly by those men.

Led by a wiry, young, and green second lieutenant named Wayne Browning and a gruff gunnery sergeant named Harry Olsen, a twenty-year man, 367th Battalion's Recon Squad was a truly intimidating group of men, both young and old. Though 2LT Browning was inexperienced in combat, newly commissioned just six months prior, he was smart enough to know that GNS Olsen, a man with two Navy Crosses, a Bronze Star with Valor device, and three Purple Hearts was to be obeyed. GNS Olsen had joined the Marines on his eighteenth birthday in 1993 and he had been sent to Kaliningrad during the initial invasion. It was there as a scared, young SAW gunner in a mechanized unit that GNS Olsen became a man. Now, twenty years later, he had forsaken further promotion and further respect to run Recon Squad along with 2LT Browning.

No stranger to recon, GNS Olsen brought a legend with him that held everyone in awe. A true hero in the truest sense of the word, he was known for his bark when dealing with other units but within Recon Squad, he was the most caring gunnery sergeant in the entire Corps. It was a treasured secret that the men of Recon Squad liked to keep to themselves, lest his bark cease to be effective. It was through that bark that Recon Squad was able to procure more equipment than they were issued, even if it was than what they needed. Outside of these two men, Recon Squad consisted of a single corpsman, a staff sergeant, two staff sergeants who led First Squad and Second Squad, two sergeants as assistant squad leaders, four grenadiers, four riflemen, and two SAW gunners, all of whom were corporals or less. Each man had a unique persona and each man had a unique background but they all had a similar affection for the Marines, for the Empire, and for reconnaissance duties. To get into Recon Squad was no easy endeavor. Outside of being a regular Marine, and going through that training, they had to do additional training that took elements from special warfare, marksman, pathfinder, and airborne schools.

Every man in a Marine Recon Squad was a parachutist, they were required to have expert marksmanship badges, they were cross-trained on OPFOR weaponry, they were pathfinders, and no element that Mother Nature could throw at them could catch them off course. However, they weren't special forces qualified, they were a step in between. It was an interesting fact that within JSOC's 3rd Special Operations Group, "Ghost Recon," over eighty percent of the operators who came from the Marines had come from Recon Squads.

Aboard the Caracas-class amphibious assault ship, LHD-22, the ILS Valencia, named after the Venezuelan city of the same name, Recon Squad was going through their final prelaunch checks. Only ninety minutes earlier, the squad received marching orders to deploy into Georgia-proper in advance of combat sorties. 2LT Browning, nervous about his first deployment, looked to GNS Olsen, a stoic rock who gave him a pat on the shoulder and a few words of wisdom, the least helpful of which was, "Don't fuck up L-T, got it?"

Wearing woodland, camouflage BDUs, the men had their faces painted varying shades of green, black, and gray. Their body armor fit snuggly around their body and their packs carried everything they could need for deployment, from extra ammunition and food to notebooks, radios, extra batteries, and medical supplies. Personal effects weren't carried except for a few personal, good luck charms but these were always kept hidden. The men didn't look too kindly to good luck charms, each for their own reason but good luck for one soldier could mean death for another; fate was a twisted son of a bitch.

Onboard the flight deck, two AH-104A Huron attack helicopters loaded with rockets and anti-tank guided missiles were preparing to get aloft while a pair of UH-1Y Super Huey utility helicopters, armed only with their .50-caliber or 7.62mm door guns were waiting for the seventeen men to climb aboard. "Okay, we ready men?" Asked GNS Olsen as he stood in the ready room, the men around him were kitted out and sporting Kevlar helmets. GNS Olsen wore a boonie hat. When he had been asked why by 2LT Browning he answered, "L-T, I've worn too many Kevlar helmets to know that getting shot in the head and surviving is one nasty future."

"Yes Gunny!" Came the unison reply.

"Saddle up L-T, time to get underway."

"You got it Gunny, let's go men. First Squad in the second bird, Second Squad on me in the first bird. Let's go and creep out these navy flyboys one last time shall we men?" Smiles and chuckles went around the room. Navy helicopter pilots were like army helicopter pilots, except nuttier. They were regarded as reckless by the fighter jocks and oddballs by sailors who respected their daring. However, to the helicopter pilots, Recon Squads were always comprised of the weirdest men in the military.

Climbing into the lead helicopter, 2LT Browning leaned into the cockpit, smiled and said, "Well boys, thanks for giving us the ride tonight. We want to come in as low as you can. The last thing we need is for these Georgian regulars to pick our landing spot, got it?"

"We got it sir," the pilot said, "do you want some tree tops in the cabin?"

"Well Christmas is coming so if they're pine sure thing." 2LT Browning said as he sat in the cabin. On either side were two door gunners, each manning a .50-caliber heavy machine gun. Both guns fed from a unitary magazine of 1,050 rounds. The second helicopter just had a pair of 7.62mm light machine guns feeding from a unitary magazine of 6,000 rounds. A simple counter affixed to the gun sight showed how many rounds were left in the magazine.

Less than a minute later, the main rotors were spinning and the vibration from the helicopter's two engines was lulling the men in the cabin to sleep with a violent massage. "Man, I wish I was a chick," said CPL Paul Ford, one of Second Squad's grenadiers. "But I'd never leave the bird," he joked. Smiles went around the cabin as the helicopter lifted off a few seconds later. Edging out over the water, the cool, humid, evening air filled the cabin and pushed away the scent of aviation fuel and grease, which permeated the air around the Caracas' flight deck.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

November 22, 2013 - 18:30 hrs [UTC+4]
Near Khala, Georgia
Mtirala National Park
(41° 39' 18" N, 41° 48' 29" E)

Thirty minutes and about fifty-five course changes later, the four helicopters closed on the LZ in the middle of the Mtirala National Park. An elevated clearing, the LZ had been carefully picked to ensure that no hostile units were within five klicks, and they weren't. Thermal and visual imagery had been taken real-time of the LZ just before the departure of the four helicopters and a drone orbiting near the Adjarian coastline had been monitoring the site throughout the flight of the helicopters. The sun had dropped rapidly following its 17:48 set time. The region was still within the nautical twilight period and astronomical twilight wouldn't end for another hour, giving the men at least that much time of minimal daylight with which they could maneuver quickly.

As the two Super Hueys flared for landing, the seventeen men lined up on either side of their respective cabins. The helicopters hovered, dropped, and as soon as the skids touched the ground, all seventeen men jumped off and lay prone, spread out around the landing zone, watching in every direction, weapons shouldered, and eyes down their sights. The helicopters lifted, nosed forward, and sped off to the west. They would make several course changes on their exfil flight to confuse the enemy as to their destination. The whole landing took less than thirty seconds and the pilots, saying what they wanted about Recon Squads knew that they were all business when it came to dropping into enemy territory. A Recon Squad wasn't going to make a pilot hover, exposed to enemy ground fire for one second more than was necessary. That much, the pilots appreciated.

After the noise of the helicopters left the area, 2LT Browning pushed the transmit button on his rifle grip, "All right, let's move out, First Squad on point."

"On it L-T," replied Staff Sergeant (SSG) Curtis Hassell, First Squad's squad leader. "Segura, on point," he whispered to Private First Class (PFC) John Segura, one of First Squad's two grenadiers. Emplaced more than twenty-four hours before the operation was set to kick off, they were the first regular Layartebian soldiers on the ground. JSOC had already inserted nearly fifty special forces operators the week prior and they were embedded with the ARF.

JSOC's forces included a 12-man A-Team from the 5th Special Operations Group, Green Berets; an 8-man squad from the 2nd Special Operations Group, SEALS; two 6-man squads from the 3rd Special Operations Group, Ghost Recon; eight men from the 8th Special Operations Group, Spiders; and two, 4-man teams from 1st Special Operations Group, Delta Force. All forty-five men were dispersed throughout the ARF's positions in Adjara and conducting their own pre-invasion missions. The Green Berets were embedded with two ARF companies; each one considered the best that the ARF could offer. The SEALS were positioning themselves for urban warfare in Batumi. The Ghost Recon commandos would direct air strikes along the main east-west highway of Adjara. The intelligence spies from the Spiders were ascertaining the positions of all Georgian troops; and lastly, the Delta commandos were positioned with another ARF company positioned for a strike against senior Georgian military leadership in Adjara.

Special forces had their own missions and Recon Squad was operating entirely independent of them. Command wanted them to check out several locations in advance of the invasion, one of which was a possible surface-to-surface site that had remained dormant. If that site was capable of launching missiles against Layartebian shipping, it would have to be neutralized immediately. The best analysis for why it had laid dormant was that the Georgian military did not want to fire the first shots in this conflict, even though they had to have known about the presence of Layartebian and Persian forces in the Adjara region. Arguably speaking, launching surface-to-surface missiles against Layartebian ships would have much more dramatic results than the presence of less than one hundred hostile troops would. Perhaps even, Russia was advising Tbilisi to wait until the opportune moment, unaware that Layartebian signal's intelligence had learned of the presence of three such sites. Two had been clearly identified and they were targeted already, this third one remained elusive.

Outside of the SSM site, Recon Squad was also expected to provide Intel on the enemy's rear positions, those just outside of the reach of naval shore bombardment systems. Command and Intel believed that the Georgians would let the Layartebians have the beachhead in order to draw them in and attack them inland, where the terrain favored the defenders better than it did the attackers.

[Novacron]

RPAF Maku, West Azerbaijan Province, Kingdom of Persia
Saturday 23rd November 2013, 1100hrs
Wing Commander Kendrick Henche AFC DFM, Royal Persian Air Force

Henche glanced down at his watch as his squadron and flight leaders filed into the briefing room, they were eight hours from the deadline set by the Empire of Layarteb, if it passed within the Georgians complying then they would be attacking. This briefing was working on that assumption, the intent of the Royal Persian Air Force was for their planes to be in the air at the time of the deadline and for the first attacks to hit less than thirty minutes later, it was essential that the Georgians knew that they meant business, if that happened then they might still be compelled to back down, and if not then it just got the distasteful business of dismantling their entire military started a little bit quicker. Henche was directly responsible for both the squadrons of F-15Es that had been stationed at Maku, whilst having de facto control over any Typhoons from Tabriz that were being sent into Georgia, he was essentially the forward air commander in order to streamline the command structure, potentially essential if this all went wrong. It was for that reason that he had all four squadron commanders from Tabriz.

Once they were all settled in seats he nodded to them and began his briefing.

“Good Morning all, at nineteen hundred hours local time the Layartebian ultimatum to the Georgians will officially run out, at that time His Majesty has authorised the Royal Persian Air Force to begin air operations against enemy positions within Georgia, with the operational intent of destroying their air defence and military infrastructure to facilitate further operations by Persian and Layartebian forces,” Henche said formally, this was the official bit. “Persian Forces deployed at this time will consist of three squadrons of Typhoons FGR.4 from the 1st Defence Group, with the F-15Es from the 8th and 12th Tactical Squadrons, air support operations will be provided by the aircraft of the 4th Defence Squadron, for the duration of this operation unless otherwise stated, all Persian Air Forces will be under my direct command.”

Henche looked around to make sure they had all taken what he had just said in, most knew some of it already but it still had to be said, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings about their situation, these officers had to go back and brief their pilots after all.

“Alright, now Azerbaijan has, reluctantly, given us permission to fly across their airspace to hit Georgia, which saves us fucking around over the Caspian Sea and wasting our fuel as well as allowing us to get asses to Georgia much quicker, but keep on your toes up there, you might get Azerbaijani fighters watching you so don’t start anything,” Henche continued. “At 1900hrs the 8th Tactical Squadron will sortie from this station, supported by 1st Defence Group flying escort, the F-15Es will be armed with the AGM-84K SLAM-ER, you will be firing upon enemy air defence sites located and marked by Persian Special Forces, you are to launch at maximum range, I don’t want any of your pilots exposed to unnecessary fire.”

Henche paused.

“Once we’ve punched a hole in the enemy air defence network both Tactical Squadrons will outfit themselves with AGM-65 Mavericks and will hit various targets of importance that have been identified, this includes power stations, military headquarters, bridges and the like, we want to stop the enemy from being able to move around their own country, at the same time the Typhoons will either be flying a fighter sweep to destroy any fighters the Georgians send against us or carrying AGM-88 HARMs and performing SEAD duties as mobile units become active,” Henche continued. “An E-7A Wedgetail AWACs will be in the combat area providing command and control and will need to be protected as well, as will at least one Voyager MRRT which the Typhoonss will need to refuel from at least once to remain effective, we’ll also have our Pavehawks ready to go in case any of your pilots go down and Special Forces can’t get to them first.”

Henche paused again.

“At the most basic level our orders are simple, we are to achieve and maintain air superiority by destroying their fighters and air defence capability, we are then to systematically dismantle military infrastructure and targets of opportunity identified by Special Forces, we are authorised to continue hitting the enemy until given orders to the contrary,” Henche concluded. “Also, although most of our targets are already marked we’re also going to all be available for close-air-support tasking’s, both by Persian Special Forces but also theoretically by Layartebian Special or Regular Forces as time progresses, alright, any questions?”

There were none. Henche nodded again and dismissed them, there was no point in an overly long briefing from him. They would each be getting specific operational and intelligence briefing from staff officers who were here over the next couple of hours, his job was to give the overview and then oversee the entire operation, not get bogged down on the details. The squadron leaders that had flown out from Tabriz would be flying back within a few hours to brief their flight leaders and pilots, those from Maku had brought their flight leaders along in the first place to streamline matters. Once this flurry of briefings was completed it would just be a case of waiting the extra four hours or so to see if the Georgians were going to surprise everyone by backing down. It was safe to say that no one in Persia realistically believed that they would stand-down, and especially in the RPAF this had solidified as a determination to get the job done with as little fuss as was possible. This was the Kingdom of Persia’s first foreign military venture, everyone wanted it to go well and end in victory, anything else could have negative consequences for years to come. The fact that it was limited in scope, just Special Forces and Air Power whilst the Layartebians did most of the ground work, meant that it was all the more important that Henche and his pilots did their job well.

Henche knew for a fact that King Darius had wanted to take a more proactive approach and get Persian boots on the ground, but they had been dissuaded by the Layartebians and that, unfortunately was that. The Russian presence immediately to the North was obviously not ideal, and Henche and most officers were glad that wouldn’t he occupying Georgia, a land border with the Russians was hardly an ideal situation, a buffer zone was more preferable. At the same time Henche knew that preparations were being made in case something went wrong and more severe measures were needed, if it came down to it and Persia had to put troops into Georgia then they would do, but they would be playing a potentially dangerous game with the Russians that everyone knew that if the Russians played their full hand the Kingdom would lose, there was no way around that at the moment, the Kingdom was too small and still recovering from past wars.

Henche sighed as he packed up his briefing material, he had work to do.

[Novacron]

Forward Operations Base Coiled Viper, Wester Azerbaijan Province, Kingdom of Persia
Saturday 23rd November 2013, 1500hrs
Sergeant John Winton

Traditionally a Forward Operations Base, or FOB, was usually found in a foreign land serving as the forward base from which most operations would be carried out. In the case of the base codenamed Coiled Viper this wasn’t the case, mainly because as of yet there was no major Persian foothold in Georgia and Azerbaijan simply wasn’t playing ball. It was also a result of the contingency plan in place should the Kingdom be compelled to deploy ground troops into Georgia, specifically it called for a fast-responding force of Brigade size to be capable of carrying out operations and securing a new FOB inside Georgia to which additional military forces could be deployed. The need to be capable of deploying quickly and without a proper facility to receive them, no tot mention the fact that they did not have land access to Azerbaijan, meant that the troops would have to go in via the air. The Royal Persian Army had therefore looked at two separate units, the first was the 1st Airborne Division which deployed via parajump, but they were not selected as their ability to move quickly around in-country was only that of a normal Light Infantry soldier once they were out of their plane.

As such the decision had been made to call upon a brigade of the 3rd Cavalry Division (Air Cavalry), specifically the 8th Cavalry Brigade. As with the rest of the Air Cavalry the brigade deployed via the ubiquitous UH-60M Blackhawk helicopter, which was capable of carrying an entire squad of twelve soldiers into a combat area and provide a degree of support with their mounted guns, more importantly they could remain in the battle area to collect the dismounted once they have completed their objective and move onto another one. This allowed them substantial flexibility on the battlefield, and they could be used in everything from full scale assaults by bringing the entire brigade together quickly to attack a single target, to hit-and-fade raids on enemy positions with small contingents being brought into position on short notice to hit a target and then disappear before the enemy could react. If deployed into Georgia the brigade would have two roles that it would be ideally suited for, the first was assaulting and securing an airfield to allow additional forces to be brought in, the second was raiding enemy positions to demoralise them and make the area safer for Persian forces to insert into.

Sergeant John Winton was an experienced Air Cavalryman, like most of the military he joined the Army back during the Dark Years when the nation was under the control of an Islamic government, but equally like many he was no radical, he was a loyal Persian citizen who only wanted what was best for his nation. He had fought most of the Theocratic War on the ground of course, the enemy had gained air superiority rather quickly and after they had suffered substantial helicopter losses the few that they had left had been grounded. Sergeant Winton was just glad that his beloved Air Cavalry had finally got new aircraft, and what aircraft they were, the UH-60M Blackhawk had already proven itself to be both popular and effective aircraft for the 3rd Cavalry Division. He had already discussed the mission with the pilots and was looking forward to seeing how the aircraft performed in an actual combat situation where they were dealing with an actual enemy force, not to mention facing actual enemy fire.

Right now however he had a more important concern, specifically Warrant Officer Wayed Hamza, an interpreter who spoke Georgian and would be attached to his squad’s platoon for the duration of the exercise. Unlike most militaries the Persian Armed Forces operated its warrant officers on different terms. Instead of being either senior enlisted personnel or a special set of personnel in between enlisted and commissioned, Warrant Officers in the Persian Military were men and women who had a certain skill set that the Military needed for a short period of time. The Kingdom of Persia refused to employ military contractors, feeling that they were unreliable and harder to control, so it had come up with the Warrant system. A Warrant Officer in the Persian Military was appointed with a Warrant which allowed them to wear a uniform (and thus in a POW situation would be treated as such) and give them the necessary authority to carry out their jobs, on a short-term basis (typically two years, although this may be extended). Importantly although they received officer privileges and pay they were not commissioned (and thus not saluted or called sir, merely ‘warrant’) and do not have command authority beyond their actual employment. Additionally given that it could take less than a month to get a Warrant Officer deployed it allowed for a quick build-up of capability if required.

When the possibility of operations in Georgia had been begun to show its head the Persian Armed Forces had promptly issued invitations for a number of individuals to accept a Warrant in the military to serve as a translator. Warrant Officer Hamza, who had been a professor of Caucuses history prior to accepting the warrant, had just finished the intense two week training program that gave him the skills necessary to not get killed in combat and to operate effectively in the military. Winton was showing Hamza around a Blackhawk.. Due to the place, or lack thereof, that a Warrant Officer fitted into the command structure (in that depending on the job a Warrant Officer might have junior officers or senior enlisted answering to them), meant that on the ground it was actually Sergeant Wilson who would be in command, and WO Hamza was legally required to follow his orders, as unlike a normal contractor he was subject to King’s Regulations.

“As you can see, the UH-60M is far superior to the aircraft we were using before the fall, although I doubt you’ll have had any up-close and personal experience with them so you’ll have to take it from me on that one,” Winton laughed. “We’re going to be cramming it pretty tight to get the entire squad plus you aboard, Warrant, fortunately for you as far as I know you’ll be in the command helo with the Lieutenant.”

WO Hamza nodded.

“Thanks Sergeant, I appreciate it,” He smiled. “I’d have hated my first time climbing aboard to be when we’re aboard to go into combat; it was good to get alook around.”

“Yea, that would have been the last thing you need I’m sure, I like the idea of the way we’re doing Warrant Officers these days, but I do wonder whether two weeks is too short, but then I guess you get the detailed training on-the-job,” Winton commented and noted that Hamza was nodding his agreement. “I say, Warrant, have you been issued your weapons yet?”

“Not yet,” Hamza replied. “I was meaning to do that after we were finished here.”

“I’ll come with you then, stop the Quartermaster Sergeant giving you a hard time,” Winton laughed.

The two soldiers, one experienced and full-time, one temporary and specifically skilled, but both soldiers right now none the less, made their way across the sandy surface away from the quickly-asphalted flight line towards the array of tents that was holding the majority of the Brigade and its equipment. They were heading towards one in particular, a large tent with a number of soldiers posted to stand guard around it, the armoury tent. Inside there were vast racks of weapons and Winton and Hamza began to make their way down the lines.

The first thing they pulled down was an M4A1 Carbine Rifle, the standard-issue shoulder-arm of the Royal Persian Armed Forces and used by every branch of service. It was a tried and tested weapon and it was the weapon that every man and woman in the military was trained upon as standard, many of the pouches on combat webbing or an assault jacket would be full of 5.56mm ammunition, except of course if the soldier in question was armed with a more specialised weapon. The second thing that they picked up was a FN Five-Seven Mk2, the standard issue sidearm of the Persian Military. Unlike some armed forces which restricted sidearms to either senior officers or personnel who otherwise couldn’t really carry a larger weapon, the Persian Army and Marine Corps were strong advocates of every solider being armed with a pistol. This was for the simple reason that if you were in an intense firefight and ran out of rifle ammunition you’d want something to kill the enemy if they got too close to your position, and if you strapped it and your pistol ammunition to your thigh instead of taking up space on your webbing then it was an acceptable additional piece of equipment to carry.

“Well Warrant, you’re kitted up and ready to go,” Winton commented. “If you want my advice, I’d take the chance to relax whilst you can, there’s no way of knowing when we’ll be sent in, if of course we are.”

“A fair point, I’ll probably do that,” Hamza nodded. “Thanks for your help Sergeant.”

“Anytime Warrant.”

[Layarteb]

November 23, 2013 - 06:35 hrs [UTC+4]
Near Zundagi, Georgia
Mtirala National Park
(41° 36' 50" N, 41° 49' 4" E)

After walking for twelve hours, the recon platoon had covered just four and a half klicks. They moved slowly through the Mtirala National Park for two reasons, the first being stealth and the second being the terrain. They were moving up and down steep terrain that was full of trip hazards and vegetation. Not so much worried about being seen, they were more worried about being heard. For that reason, PFC Segura was only on point for two hours; after which, his entire body was fatigued and exhausted. The platoon took a knee and Corporal Allan Pearl came up to take point for the next two hours. Thus, as the rotations went, currently on point was Sergeant Benny Díaz and SGT Díaz was feeling the same fatigue that PFC Segura felt ten hours ago and CPL Pearl felt eight hours ago. "Hold up," came the whisper over the radio and immediately, everyone took a knee.

Relieved to rest, SGT Díaz took a sip from his water pack and stared out at the expanse of green ahead of him. This late in the year, sunrise wasn't for another hour and a half almost but astronomical twilight had begun and soon it would be shifting into nautical twilight and civil twilight at 06:55 and 07:29, respectively. Sunrise was scheduled for 07:59. In the waning darkness, glimmers of light from the eastern horizon shown on the highest peaks of Mtirala National Park and recon squad was on one of them, about seven hundred meters away from the next rise. He focused his eyesight in the distance and gave a quick scan of what was ahead of them, focusing on it as GNS Olsen came up to his ear, "How you doing Díaz?" The gunnery sergeant asked.

"Beat Gunny, how long have I been on point?"

"Long enough Díaz; get your ass to the rear we're pulling up a replacement."

"Thanks Gunny," SGT Díaz answered, relieved. As he moved to the back, he passed PFC Carl Soto, a newcomer to recon squad but a workhorse nonetheless. They tapped fists on the way past one another and PFC Soto took up the point. GNS Olsen gave him a few words of advice; and after a five-minute rest, they picked up and started moving again, heading towards the rise in the distance. The pace continued to be slow with PFC Soto checking every inch of the terrain in front of him for booby traps, an unlikely possibility, and sticks, a likely possibility. In the silence of this hour, the cracking of a stick could be heard for hundreds of meters and anyone out there in the darkness would then be alerted to an enemy presence nearby.

In an hour, as the sun rose behind them, they moved just four hundred meters, halving the distance between themselves and the rise. PFC Soto, watching through the trees, focused on the rise when something caught his eyes. Using a hand signal, he brought the whole platoon to their knees and brought his binoculars out of his pack. He focused ahead of him, three hundred meters away to the rise and that was when he saw the camouflage webbing of a manmade object. Holy shit I've got it, he thought to himself as he keyed up the radio, whispering, "L-T I've got something up ahead, I think it's it."

"Hold, I'm on my way," responded 2LT Browning, who moved up to the front of the platoon and took a knee next to PFC Soto. "All right Soto, show me," he whispered.

"Right there sir, on top of the rise, I see netting, lots of netting." 2LT Browning took the binoculars and panned around, focusing hard on what was ahead of him. The trees and the vegetation didn't make anything easy; but soon enough, with PFC Soto's direction he saw it.

"Shit you're right, that's it. Good work Soto, let's spread out and get into a better position to mark this one for the fleet."

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November 23, 2013 - 19:30 hrs [UTC+4]
Tibeta, Georgia
South of Batumi-Akhaltsikhe Road
(41° 38' 0" N, 41° 59' 52" E)

First Lieutenant Bob Wallace, callsign "Stud," was lying on his stomach watching a decent sized formation of Georgian troops just eight hundred meters away, hiding in the trees. The commanding officer of Alpha Squad, 2nd Platoon, Charlie Company, he was surrounded by five squad mates. First Sergeant Patrick "Dingo" Malott was on communications and his right hand man; Staff Sergeants Russell "Ginger" Frye and Clark "Superman" Gerald were equipment and Intel technicians, respectively. Sergeant First Class Darryl "Ace" Deck was the sniper and Sergeant Jimmy "Spider" Ross was the team's medic. Heavily outfitted, these six men were loaded for bear but unlike Recon Platoon, they weren't a bunch of misfit rejects that were loathed all around. They were elite, Tier One Special Operators.

Their job was to canvas an area twenty klicks long of highway and look for Georgian positions. They'd found two already but they were small, nothing more than a platoon per location. They marked the targets via GPS and called in the coordinates for air strikes. This position, on the other hand, promised much more glory for it held at least a company of men. Hiding in the vegetation, they wouldn't have otherwise been found had it not been for the glowing ends of several cigarettes that Ace saw while he was leading point. Now, for the past forty-five minutes, they were using their night vision optics to watch the site. "Definite mass grave," responded Ace finally after staring at a few points hard enough to make them move.

"Makes sense," whispered Stud, "there isn't a soul in the village behind us. There must have been two or three hundred people there once."

"Yeah, once," answered Superman, who only got the nickname because of his first name. "What are we directing in here?"

"Maybe some thousand pounders, we're high enough and good enough in to avoid the shrapnel. Think they've got a SAM down there under that netting?"

"Hard to tell," Superman said, "could be something mobile like an SA-13. It's hard really to see though; I'd say they've got a SAM, maybe even two in there with them. They've definitely been digging like Ace says."

"Yeah, I think we need to get them neutralized first and then go down there and confirm afterwards. We're getting close enough to the deadline anyway." Stud checked his watch, "Ninety mikes until it and then maybe another thirty to sixty before the bombs start falling. The Georgians definitely aren't going to be leaving."

"No shit," answered the normally quiet and reserved Spider, "Russia's got their back and Russia's not happy about us being here but they know enough that this is a regional, isolated situation. If we were bombing say Abkhazia, they'd have a lot more to say but down here in Adjara they don't really mind, so long as we stick to the region. Why do you think they've got us boxed in to 42°N and 43°E? That's a hell of a box it barely covers Adjara. Basically we're hitting Adjara and the immediate vicinity, anything past this and the government thinks Russia's going to launch back."

"Orders are orders Spider, you should know that well enough," responded Stud. "Even if they're ass backwards."

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November 23, 2013 - 21:00 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Maku, Iran
Maku Air Base
(39° 21' 27" N, 44° 27' 27" E)

"Shit, that's the deadline," responded MAJ Fordham as he sat in the pilot's seat of his F-58B Viper. In the rear was his WSO, CPT Small and both of them were idling on the runway, just waiting for the order to get aloft. MAJ Fordham was part of a four-ship flight of F-58B Vipers that would be leading the way into Adjara. Armed for ground attack, they were going to be striking Georgian troop positions along the Batumi-Akhaltsikhe Road and one of their targets was right where Stud's Ghost Recon team was positioned.

Because it was nearly two hundred miles to Georgian airspace, the fighters were carrying as much fuel as possible. Centerline, they were all carrying a 300-gallon fuel tank whereas on their inner wing hardpoints they were carrying two 370-gallon fuel tanks. In total, this gave them as much fuel as an F-16 Falcon carried and combined with the 12,650 pounds of internal fuel, it gave them just over 50% more fuel. They would drop the tanks as they neared Georgian airspace and on the way out, KC-10A Extenders would be flying over Turkey to give them gas for the remaining trip home.

For self-defense, all four of the Vipers were carrying four AIM-120D-9 AMRAAMs and two AIM-204B Escapes. They had reconnaissance pods on their chin hardpoints for BDA and on their two, unused wing hardpoints they carried a mix of 500 and 1,000-pound JDAM bombs and cluster bombs. For MAJ Fordham, he had a pair of 500-pound JDAMs and a pair of CBU-110 Cluster Bombs with anti-personnel and anti-material bomblets. His immediate wingman had the same loadout. The other two aircraft had 1,000-pound JDAMs and a pair of CBU-104 GATOR Cluster Bombs.

"Yep, there it is," answered CPT Small who was looking at his watch at the same time. "Well I do believe we'll get clearance here any second."

"Unforgiven 1, you are cleared to take off, depart heading 2-9-0, good hunting."

"Roger that Maku Tower, Unforgiven 1 is cleared for takeoff, depart heading 2-9-0, thanks."

"Shit, nearly rained on my parade," laughed CPT Small as he checked the systems.

Holding the brakes, MAJ Fordham pushed his throttles up to 85% and watched as the engines increased powered. The RPMs looked good and then he pushed them up to 100% and waited again. When the RPMs were stable, he released the brakes and the F-58 Viper began to roll forward. After about fifty meters, he pushed the throttles up to full afterburner and the force from both engines punched both MAJ Fordham and CPT Small back into their seats as the ground speed rapidly increased. Fifty meters behind them, rolling as well, the second aircraft in the flight had just done the same.

Once V1 was called out, MAJ Fordham eased back on the stick and the Viper left the ground gracefully, loudly, and with purpose. MAJ Fordham eased the stick to the right, pulling the fighter to its starboard side to come to a head of 290° as the fighter climbed through 1,000 feet. He came off of the afterburner and reduced back to military power and the fighter continued to accelerate and climb. "What's our altitude?"

"We want angels twenty for the ingress boss."

"Angels twenty it is." In less than thirty minutes, they would breach Georgian airspace.

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November 23, 2013 - 12:10 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

The Emperor and the war planning committee were once again in the War Room, this time as the fighters were making their way towards Georgia. Cruise missiles were already in the air and barreling towards their targets at stealthy, subsonic speed. Fighters and bombers were on the move and navy fighters and helicopters were doing the same. For the next forty-eight to ninety-six hours, the Georgian military in and around Adjara would endure the hardest bombing they had ever seen before. The attack was scaled down though, in comparison to what the Empire unleashed on the Progressives in Sinae just over a year earlier. In these four days, the Empire would drop a little over six thousand tons of ordinance in and around Adjara, attacking the airfields, the surface-to-air defense sites, and what Georgian positions the military knew of so far.

The rules were simple but because of the closeness of Russia, Layartebian fighters and bombers could not bomb north of the 42nd parallel and east of the 43rd meridian. That limited them severely but as the Emperor would announce in his speech just as the bombs began to fall on and around Adjara, Layartebian aircraft would attack in self-defense above and beyond those lines. Of course, the Georgians already knew this much, it had been passed from Russian spies. Operation GOLDEN PLATYPUS, as it was called, was not going to be a momentous occasion for the Empire. Too many limits were in place and the Adjarians weren't the best of allies. Despite being "for the cause," they were largely inept and unable to fight on the same level as their Georgian enemies or now, their Layartebian allies.

Because of the political sensitivities to Russia, the Empire was in a pickle. The Russians were watching and though the Empire had enough hardware in theater to neutralize Georgia, it did not have enough to neutralize Russia. Bombers at faraway bases were on standby though, just in case Russia reneged and attacked Layartebian forces. In a quiet and backchannel communiqué, the Russians pledged neutrality, so long as the Empire restrained itself just to the Adjarian region. It was a deal the Emperor would not have made, had it not been for the insistence of the Persians, one of the Empire's newest partners.

"Sir, the first aircraft will be over Georgian airspace, Adjara that is, just after 21:30 local time. That's about twenty minutes from now. Between 21:30 and 21:45, all of our cruise missiles will be hitting their targets and so will our fighters. The second wave is just an hour behind and they're going to be bringing heavy ordinance to bear on the enemy. Right now it's just fighters and cruise missiles but by dawn we'll have heavy bombers dropping their loads on hostile targets."

"Thank you General," answered the Emperor, "and reactive strikes against any surface-to-air positions or airfields that fire from the exclusion zone?"

"Sir we've got SEAD and strike aircraft on orbit in Turkey ready to make high speed towards any of those targets. We're putting up a lot of jamming right now though sir, if the Georgians can break through it and target us we're in for a surprise."

"Well malfunctions do happen; make sure that we don't let our boys down. It's bad enough we've put these restrictions on them."

"Yes sir, will do."

"All right I go on the air in twenty-five minutes, as the bombs are falling, is there anything I need to know prior to this?"

"No sir," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs responded. The Emperor nodded in agreement then, stood, and departed. All around, the men and women in the War Room stood, the military men saluting as the Emperor departed. He was using a modified pressroom, one that was identical to the normal one but within the shelter, which sat around the underground portion of the Fortress of Comhghall. The War Room was within this very shelter.

[Novacron]

The Royal Palace, Tehran, Tehran Province, Kingdom of Persia
Saturday 23rd November 2013, 2100hrs
HM King Darius I of Persia

Darius, King of Persia, sat in his private study in the Royal Palace. The clock on the wall was telling him that the Georgian Deadline was rapidly approaching. Nothing about any of this was a good situation. Personally Darius, as a seasoned military commander in his own right, felt that the rules of engagement that both Layartebian and Persian forces would be operating under were far too restrictive. He understood why they were in place, provoking the Russian Bear was hardly the best idea, especially given past history between Russia and Persia, but the fact still remained that he felt that unless they were very lucky the forces in-theatre would be in for a difficult and dangerous time. The annoying part was that even though he was the King he couldn’t do anything about it, the Persian people were aghast at what was happening in Georgia, but he couldn’t justify a potential conflict with Russia, one they would almost certainly lose if Russia deployed large amounts of forces, without something that posed a much more visible and viable threat to the Kingdom.

Even so, if it was up to Darius they’d be going all the way to Tbilisi and be done with it, of course that wasn’t without its own problems as well.

As a result although everyone hoped that this, the Persian Military’s first offensive operation since the Dark Years, would go at least partially well, it was generally accepted at the higher levels that the restrictive rules of engagement would be the reason for failure, and as such there were contingencies in the Persian Senate, should the situation require a more unrestricted operation. The situation was bad enough that Darius’ press secretary had already written up a statement should the situation go badly. Darius didn’t like any of this, he didn’t like cowtowing to the Russians on principle, not after what they had done to his country, but he was an intelligent and reasonable man, he knew exactly why they couldn’t just go in there with full, un-restricted force, even if utterly destroying the Georgian military was the only option in that regard. Contrary to what the Russians no doubt thought, the Persians had no interest in conquering Georgia at this point, they would if they had to, but it was generally agreed to be far more trouble than it was worth, not to mention that it would give them a land-border with Russia. That land border was largely protected by the mountains, but it still existed and would no doubt be a pain for defence planners for a long time to come.

There was a knock on the door to his study followed by the door opening. Darius smiled as he turned to look, only one person would disturb him at this time without waiting for him to actually allow them into the room. Sure enough Admiral Dame Renée Lafayette, Chief of the Naval Staff, was stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She had been down in Bandar Abbas, overseeing the commissioning of yet another warship into the Royal Persian Navy. She had apparently changed on her flight back up here because instead of the Full Dress Whites she would have been wearing she was now wearing the much less formal and more comfortable Service Whites uniform; a white short-sleeved shirt worm open-collared wit white trousers secured by a belt and white dress shoes, with her rank insignia displayed on shoulder boards. It was perhaps not the most formal uniform to be visiting your King in, but then not only was Renée one of the six highest ranking officers in the Kingdom but she was also the King’s Lover, even if this was an open secret.

Renée smiled slightly and settled down onto the sofa beside him and snuggled up against him.

The Royal Persian Navy had no official role to play in the entire campaign as a service, there were contingencies to send a frigate or destroyer all the way around to the Black Sea if the Layartebian Invasion failed and fire support from the sea was required, but in general the Navy wasn’t involved. Individual officers and ratings would be involved, serving primarily in support roles or similar, for example the mobile Phalanx CIWS batteries that would protect the forward base from missile and rocket attack would, naturally, be manned by naval personnel. After all, although the Infantry made up roughly a third of the military, various other combat arms made up a lot, quite simply the Army couldn’t carry out every role under the sun and still administer itself; as a result the other services took up the roles in-theatre that the Army couldn’t do themselves.

Darius and Renée sat in companionable silence. They both knew what was going on and neither felt any need to say anything, rather they took comfort in each other’s presence. There was nothing that Renée could really say, she understood as well as he what it was like to send people into combat, albeit not on the same scale, and she knew that there was nothing that could be said; all the usual platitudes were rarely helpful and she knew from experience that he would appreciate her not saying them. They remained in silence, holding each other close, as the clock ticked closer to the deadline. They were disturbed by a knock on the door but didn’t move apart, Darius’ household staff knew all about their relationship of course and wouldn’t let anyone who couldn’t keep the ‘secret’ close. Sure enough when Darius called out for whoever it was to come in the man who came through the door was a close friend. Field Marshal Sir Hamish Faisal, newly appointed Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of Persia, the equally new first Order of Chivalry to be established in the Kingdom of Persia.

“Your Majesty, it is one minute to the deadline,” Faisal informed him grimly. “At your order Persian Military Forces will begin the agreed upon operations against the Republic of Georgia.”

Darius nodded, he knew that in fact this was just a formality as the operations would already be in the initial stages, had it been an actual decision Faisal would have come to him a lot earlier.

“Then the order is given, Field Marshal,” Darius sighed heavily. “Let’s get this distasteful business started.”

[Layarteb]

November 23, 2013 - 21:25 hrs [UTC+4]
Near Zundagi, Georgia
Mtirala National Park
(41° 36' 50" N, 41° 49' 4" E)

Recon Platoon was well dug-in by the time the first missiles were launched from the Black Sea. The warning had gone out to the Russians that the war had begun but they didn't need a warning, their reconnaissance assets watched – and reported to the Georgians – when the first cruise missiles lit up the night sky around the various surface ships. For their part, the Georgians were going to ride out the storm. Their forces were dug-in, underneath camouflage, and they were keeping their aircraft on the ground, outside of the grid the Empire agreed to strike. Already, it was a loss for the Empire, who had gone into this conflict much in the same fashion as they went into the Kaliningradian conflict but with restrictions that never before affected Layartebian forces.

Around the naval element, the chosen weapon was the RGM-234 Cobalt, a subsonic, long-range, highly stealthy cruise missile that carried several payloads. The three targeted on the SSM site that Recon Platoon was watching were a mix. Two of the missiles carried an 800-pound, blast-fragmentation warhead that mixed high explosives with 31,000 10-millimeter tungsten spheres. The combined effects of the blast and the fragmentation was designed to put surface-to-air sites, tarmacs, depots, tank farms, et cetera out of commission with a single strike. The third missile carried a cluster warhead consisting of 290 BLU-97B/B CEM bomblets. Cruising towards their target at a little over 600 miles per hour, the missiles weaved through an intricate waypoint system, designed to keep their destination unknown. There was plenty of fuel in the missiles that they could circle the target a few dozen times before they needed to strike it. Even with being a stealth missile, Layartebian planners took few chances.

Watching from far enough to be safe but close enough to see everything, the men of Recon Platoon reflexively stared at their watches every few seconds. There would be a five-minute window, between 21:25 and 21:30, when the first munitions would strike. In this alpha-strike that the navy, the air force, and the Persians launched, every known air defense, surface defense, communications, command, and aerial target that the Georgians possessed within the applicable grid would be struck with precision-guided, hard-hitting munitions of a various nature. Cruise missiles, bombs, and standoff weaponry carrying warheads designed to turn these targets into ashes would be striking at roughly the same time, overwhelming whatever active defense the Georgians could manage. Of course, the Georgians knew as much, they had studied warfare long enough to know precisely how the Empire would strike when it did. Their opted for a passive defense instead, moving their precious assets out of the applicable grids to safety.

Naturally, the grid system was loathed by military commanders but there was one case, which would allow them to disregard it. This had not been made public but rather only revealed to the Persians. If the Georgians launched sorties from outside of the grid, from the exclusion zones, Layartebian aircraft could conduct reactionary strikes against the surface-to-air site or airbase. Reactive strikes would involve aircraft only, not cruise missiles, and consist of a rather large strike force consisting of several fighters for air cover, several fighters for SEAD, and several fighters for the actual bombing of the target. The Russians would object and perhaps even threaten action but when the Layartebian ambassador pointed out the language in the agreement, the Russians would be backed into a wall. If they responded, the entire grid system would be null and void and all of Georgia would be considered fair game. If they did nothing, the Georgians would protest vehemently; and perhaps, they would even try to distance themselves from the Russian sphere of influence. In either scenario, the Empire and the Persians won. Only time would tell there.

Around Mtirala National Park, all seemed quiet and relatively peaceful until 21:27, two minutes after the window opened. The quiet solace and tranquility of the park was torn to shreds by the impact of the three missiles, striking within seconds of one another. The two blast-fragmentation ones struck first, fifteen seconds apart, shattering the site's launchers and command element. Thirty seconds after the second missile hit, after the tungsten spheres ceased their pulverizing flights, the cluster bomblets dispensed from the sky and blanketed the site, mopping up whatever lay untouched. Elsewhere in Adjara, the other two strikes took similar blows, and all three were offline and largely out of commission by 21:30, the moment the alpha-strike picked up its momentum.

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November 23, 2013 - 21:32 hrs [UTC+4]
Tibeta, Georgia
South of Batumi-Akhaltsikhe Road
(41° 38' 0" N, 41° 59' 52" E)

Five minutes had elapsed since the first Layartebian munitions struck within the "Adjarian Grid," as it would come to be known. Along the Batumi-Akhaltsikhe Road near Tibeta, Georgian troops hiding under camouflage were receiving radio reports that the bombings had begun. Their instructions were simple: "wait it out and stay hunkered down." The Georgian troops would do just that but what these men didn't know was that the SOF team that had identified their location was vectoring in several fighters to strike them. There would be no waiting or hunkering for them. Major Adam Fordham, the most decorated pilot in active, Layartebian service, regardless of branch, was leading a four-ship flight of F-58B Vipers, loaded for bear.

Callsign Unforgiven 1-1 through 1-4, the four aircraft were just ten miles away from the target when the first munitions slammed home. Keeping up high, they were in a holding pattern, waiting for instructions from the ground team, which came approximately three minutes after the first munitions hit Adjara. "Unforgiven 1, this is Goose 4-8, report your position," came the request over the radio at precisely 21:30.

"Goose Actual, Unforgiven 1-1, we're on station awaiting instructions."

"Unforgiven 1-1, give me your loadout."

"Four Golf-5-4s, four Golf-5-5s, four Charlie-1-10s, four Charlie-1-04s."

"All right, Unforgiven 1-1, wait one." On the ground, Dingo conferred back with Stud on the loadouts as he was on the radio. Ginger and Superman had worked up the attack profile and Ginger would be manning the laser designator for the attack. They were going to take out the priorities first and they had coordinates for the mobile SAM launcher that they suspected and that was repeated back to Dingo, who repeated it back to MAJ Fordham. A single GBU-54 Laser JDAM would take care of that target. The four GBU-55 Laser JDAMs would be dispersed over the perimeter of the Georgian encampment and the cluster bombs, primarily the CBU-110s would be dropped into the encampment itself. Parameters and settings were transmitted from Dingo up to MAJ Fordham and he to the rest of his flight. They would attack in two waves.

The first wave would involve Unforgiven 1-1 and Unforgiven 1-2 attacking on a dive pattern, one mile apart. They would drop their cluster bombs into the encampment and the single GBU-54 against the mobile SAM launcher. After they pulled up, there would be an interim period. Once the bombs hit, the counter would begin and Unforgiven 1-3 and Unforgiven 1-4 would drop their munitions, which were the four GBU-55s thirty seconds after the bombs hit and exploded. It would take another thirty seconds for the bombs to hit, by which time it was hoped that the scattering Georgian troops would walk right into the bomb CEPs. Rolling in at precisely 21:32, MAJ Fordham in Unforgiven 1-1, led the way. He pickled his two CBU-110s and set the burst parameters for them to dispense at approximately 2,400 feet, giving a very wide pattern. Unforgiven 1-2 would come in and burst at 1,600 feet, giving a much narrower and more concentrated pattern. MAJ Fordham would also pickle off the GBU-54, which he dropped first. As he came off of his run, he leveled off at 12,000 feet but resisted the urge to shoot off chaff or flares, knowing that he had the element of surprise on his side. His wingman came in immediately thereafter and followed the pattern.

The timer began seconds later when the CBU-110s burst and began to scatter their bomblets all over the area. The six Ghost Recon commandos had removed their night vision equipment and they watched with their naked eyes as the bomblets exploded all around the encampment, filling the sky with small but highly effective explosions. The second batch carpeted the area and the GBU-54 hit just three meters away from the mobile SAM launcher, turning it inside out, forcing two queued missiles to rocket out of their tubes and fly harmlessly into the side of the mountain. Their warheads did not detonate since the vehicle did not send the proper fusing signal on account of it being blasted to nothing.

That was when the panic started below. The Georgian troops, awake already but unsuspecting of an attack went into panicked disorder, just as was hoped. Without any direction because of the pandemonium, they began to scramble towards trenches and dug-in positions when the GBU-55s struck the various positions, blasting them all to nothing, tossing the bodies of Georgian troops through the air as if there were nothing but papier-mâché ornaments made in some kindergarten class. Immediately, Dingo was back on the radio, "Unforgiven 1, good hits on all bombs, good hits, orbit for instruction. Take bombing cues from laser spot."

"Roger Goose 4-8, will orbit." With that, the jig was up and the element of surprise was lost. MAJ Fordham and the rest of his pilots turned on their ECM systems and switched their chaff and flare dispensers to automatic. The system would cue the dispersal of these elements based on the missile warning system that each aircraft operated. The RWR would help identify radar-guided threats and the LWR would help identify laser-guided threats but it would take the MWS to identify the most dangerous of all, infrared-guided threats.

On the ground, the din of chaos began to resolve itself as on-scene commanders got control of the situation. Suspected that they were being watched by a reconnaissance team or plane, the Georgians began to look around from their positions with night vision equipment, which meant bad news for the Ghost Recon team. They needed to neutralize the observers, who they could clearly see through their binoculars and night vision equipment. They couldn't use the laser yet though, as that would identify their position instantly. Dingo directed the bombing against the spots and Unforgiven 1-3 rolled in and blanketed the area with its two CBU-104 Gator bombs. That neutralized some of the spotters but not all of them. Unforgiven 1-4 rolled in shortly thereafter and blanketed the area again, neutralizing a good array of the remaining positions.

With that, the four-ship flight had only its three GBU-54s, its air-to-air loads, and its gun loads remaining. Since the laser spot idea had been canned, Dingo released MAJ Fordham and his wingman to drop their remaining three bombs on targets of opportunity within the already established attack zone. They did so in one pass, eradicating the company CP in the process. Afterwards, Dingo released MAJ Fordham and his flight and they immediately headed out of Georgian airspace back towards Maku Air Base in northwestern Iran. They would tank over Turkey in the process.

[Layarteb]

November 23, 2013 - 22:00 hrs [UTC+4]
Avgia, Georgia
E70 Highway Bridge
(41° 35' 29" N, 41° 35' 47" E)

Those within Joint Special Operations Command had their doubts about Operation GOLDEN PLATYPUS once they were handed the briefs for the war. Immediately, they knew that the limits were going to hamper the Empire more than they were going to help keep the Soviets out of the war. Even still, JSOC had a mission and it had to carry that out, regardless. JSOC acted accordingly and deployed a variety of units behind enemy lines prior to the first shots but now that the shots had been fired, and the war officially happening, they did not need to be as sensitive to the political climate. Now was the time for decisive action and nowhere needed it more than a 400-meter long bridge just south of Batumi and north of Avgia.

The bridge, just one lane each way, was part of highway E70 and for that reason, it was vital that the bridge remain intact. There was considerable worry that the Georgian military had rigged the bridge with explosives in order to bring it down, thus stopping the main Marine advance up the highway. Of course, it would not have fully stopped the Marine advance but it would have slowed it down considerably, requiring the entire war effort to grind to a halt, leaving Layartebian forces in the country exposed and without adequate ground reinforcements. For that reason, JSOC deployed the 755th Ranger Battalion, 332nd Ranger Regiment from the 4th Special Operations Group, known as the Rangers to northern Turkey.

The 562-man battalion consisted of its headquarters company and three rifle companies of lift infantry trained in special operations tactics. Their job was to seize high value targets and hold them. Normally, they secured airports and took down military command HQs but this evening, they were going to hold a bridge. The battalion CO, Lieutenant Colonel Charlie Mendoza handed off the task to Alpha Company, a 161-man rifle company, one of its three. Loaded up in a gaggle of MH-60M Black Hawks and MH-47G Chinooks, Alpha Company swooped into Adjarian airspace just north of 22:00 hours, the helicopters digging at low level towards the target. The goal was to put a rifle platoon on either side of the bridge, the weapons platoon at a central point where they could set up their mortars, the third rifle platoon near the CP for reserve, and various other small elements, such as the anti-tank and sniper units at other parts in order to cover the bridge completely. Unaware of what resistance they would face, the Rangers were loaded with as much ammunition as they could physically carry and the 9-man fire support team was given a direct link to a variety of air support platforms.

Led by Major Kenny Harris, Alpha Company was truly the first major infantry force into the country. The Marines had yet to land and the remaining JSOC teams in country were all small. For that honor, MAJ Harris had made sure his men were all well-rested and well-prepared, as rested and as prepared as they could be knowing that backup wasn't close nearby.

The first helicopters to swoop over the bridge were the escorts, a pair of navy AH-104A Huron attack helicopters that had been tasked to escort the JSOC helicopter force. Reporting no hostiles in view and no ground fire, the Black Hawks and Chinooks swooped in seconds later, touching down on the ground for only as long as it took to drop off every man. Afterwards, they got back into the skies quickly so that they could orbit overhead to provide fire support with their door-mounted Gatling guns.

Per MAJ Harris' wishes, 1st Platoon was dropped right on the north side of the bridge and they immediately fanned out around the area, looking for any possible hide points or ambush points. On the south side of the bridge, 2nd Platoon did the exact same thing, both platoons working together as their training had enforced. The weapons platoon, 4th Platoon distributed its mortar teams on the south side of the bridge two hundred meters from the bridge itself, just outside of their minimum firing range. The anti-tank teams split off to cover the north and the south approaches with a third team in reserve with 3rd Platoon at the main CP point, near the mortar area south of the bridge.

All was quiet, too quiet, and the Rangers expected a firefight at any moment but after ten minutes, nothing had yet to materialize. As vulnerable as they could be, the Rangers found cover and waited, listening and looking for the first echoes of gunfire or the flashes from rifle muzzles but again, nothing came. After fifteen minutes on the ground, MAJ Harris released 3rd Platoon to go onto the bridge and scout it for demolition charges while he kept the fire support team ready to unleash hell upon any concealed enemy. Outside of the orbiting Black Hawks overhead, the battlefield was eerily silent for minutes upon minutes. Finally, unable to take it anymore, MAJ Harris keyed up his microphone and called out to the CO of 3rd Platoon, First Lieutenant David Mack, callsign Lion. "Lion-Actual, this is Tiger-Actual, what's the situation there?"

"Tiger-Actual, Lion-Actual, nothing so far, we're still canvassing and checking, we've got about fifty meters of the southern end covered and we've got nothing so far."

"Say again Lion-Actual, did you say there are no demo charges?"

"Roger that Tiger-Actual, not a damn thing out here."

"Understood, keep looking, Tiger-Actual out," MAJ Harris responded as he looked at the men around the CP with bewilderment. "That's odd don't you think? The Georgians bug out and don't rig the main roadway into Batumi to go?"

"Either they're going to give up or they want it back intact sir," answered the battalion's senior sergeant, Sergeant Major Joseph Durante.

"The second part of that worries me Sergeant Major."

"Me too sir, the best we can do is dig in for now and hold on, until we have to release the helicopters." MAJ Harris didn't respond to that really, for there was no response to give. SGM Durante was right; the Rangers would just have to dig in and prepare to fight against an enemy intent on seizing the bridge intact. In the meantime, they would have to wonder when the Marines would arrive for they would be crossing the bridge. That would be an ideal time for the Georgians to attack. With the bridge clogged, they could stop the Marine advance and possibly cause mass casualties to the Marine lead units.

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November 23, 2013 - 22:40 hrs [UTC+4]
Batumi, Georgia
Batumi International Airport
(41° 37' 3" N, 41° 35' 10" E)

Under normal conditions, Batumi International Airport would have been seized by the Rangers who now held the bridge just south of the airport but given the coastline of Adjara, it was just as easy for the Marines to seize the airport. Doing the honors was Charlie Company from the 365th Marine Battalion, 157th Marine Regiment, 53rd Marine Brigade, 14th Marine Division. A 250-man mechanized assault company, Charlie Company had twelve M2053A1 Scimitar amphibious fighting vehicles and twelve command variants, the M2053A2, in its entire makeup. There was the HQ element and five, 40-man platoons and since they were all in the same vehicles and deployed from the same vessel, they could arrive at the same time, which was 22:40 hours, local time, long after the Rangers had decided that no Georgians were waiting to blow the bridge.

The fourteen amphibious fighting vehicles hit the beach just two hundred meters from Batumi International Airport's only runway and from there, the vehicles immediately deployed smoke to prevent attack from anti-tank missiles. They would be on their own until the hovercraft could bring aboard the rest of the battalion, which would be calling the airport and Batumi-proper its home. Under the command of Captain Wayne McKeel, the Scimitars lined up along the beachhead while the gunners used thermal and night vision equipment to scan for possible targets. When the call, "No contacts" echoed, CPT McKeel ordered his units forward and immediately, the fourteen vehicles began to move, having already shifted from their marine propulsion system to their land propulsion system.

Fearing that the runway was mined, the Scimitars flanked alongside of it, the gunners watching various directions for possible ambushes as the Scimitars made their way down the 2,500-meter stretch towards the main tarmac area where three parked planes, all civilian jetliners, sat quietly and peacefully awaiting the end of the conflict. The terminal itself was dark but as the Scimitars approached, they saw no signs of a pending ambush. That wasn't going to be the end-all, be-all though and CPT McKeel ordered 1st Platoon and 2nd Platoon to seize and clear the terminal building while 3rd Platoon and 4th Platoon moved off to the east to scan the hangar area. The command element and 5th Platoon remained on the tarmac, their guns scanning for targets both near and far.

However, just as at the bridge, the Marines who hit the terminal and the hangars reported no contacts, the airport was deserted, even of civilians. The three, parked aircraft were in a cold condition and there was no equipment lying around to suggest that grounds crewmen abandoned them. Everything was neat and rather organized, eerie indeed for the Marines, who weren't used to such quiet welcomes when they hit enemy territory. Unbeknownst to CPT McKeel, other Marine units landing both north and south along the coastline were reporting similar circumstances, a profound lack of Georgian hostiles. Something was not right indeed and the Marine commanders both in country and on the bases were beginning to smell a trap.

[Novacron]

RPAF Maku, West Azerbaijan Province, Kingdom of Persia
Saturday 23rd November 2013, 2130hrs
Wing Commander Kendrick Henche AFC DFM, Royal Persian Air Force

Wing Commander Henche watched glumly from the control tower as the second wave of Persian fighters took to the skies to hit the enemy in Georgia, the first wave was already in-theatre and engaging enemy targets as directed. He would much rather be up there with them… indeed he was meant to be up there with them. Unfortunately his Typhoon had developed a malfunction when it had been warmed up for the strike and after a quick check had been confirmed to be serious and within short order the aircraft was grounded along with its pilot. Given that Henche’s role in the air had been oversight, which didn’t strictly speaking need to be carried out in-theatre, and given that there were no other aircraft available for him in the short-term he had been compelled to come to the realisation that he was stuck here, on the ground, rather than up in the skies where he would much prefer to be. He was doing his best to pull strings, and to be fair he had a fair amount of strings to pull upon, to get himself an aircraft, but he would miss the initial strikes, that was unavoidable now.

With him out of the picture, such as it was, operational in-theatre control had been delegated to Squadron Leader Al-Ghazhi. This was something at least, she was a stellar officer and if Henche could trust anyone to carry out the mission tasked to the ad-hoc wing it was certainly her. He saw bright things in her future, now that the bar on women taking high command had been lifted, indeed he wouldn’t be surprised if she rose very high in the chain of command indeed. She certainly deserved it, she was a skilled pilot, an excellent leader and a fantastic officer all around, she was the very best. This operation would certainly do her the world of good, aside from the potential to distinguish herself in combat, the fact that she was leading the Persian air contribution at a tactical level, even if the entire affair was being commanded strategically by some Air Commodore, reporting to Persian Joint Headquarters (PJHQ) and eventually of course up the chain until they reached the King. Regardless, given her past service, if Al-Ghazi didn’t come out of this with a Distinguished Service Order he would be extremely surprised.

By all accounts the operations were proceeding apace. Working alongside their Layartebian counterparts the Strike Eagles of the Royal Persian Air Force had been hitting their pre-assigned targets without mercy. The targets, which had been gathered by Persian and Layartebian special forces had been handed out to the various squadrons based on where they were coming from and the area they were assigned to. Naturally this meant that the Layartebian Navy hit the targets near the coast for example. It had taken a not-ubsubtantial amount of hard work on the part of thousands to get this operation put together, and although it would be the pilots who took all the glory and attention or this, Henche knew well the contributions of the ground crew, the intelligence personnel and countless others that kept the RPAF working in peacetime, and in wartime, and they too would be recognized. It was ironic perhaps, giving his increasing age and rank it was to that sphere that he himself was heading, one day he would be the one making the really important decisions… at the cost of sending other young men and women out to die, and not facing the risk with them, not something he was looking forward to in the slightest.

At the same time the Persian Special Forces were moving in on their targets, this Henche knew because he was privy to the intelligence reports, one privilege of rank he was willing to admit was worth it. For the most part they were targeting sites that were too dangerous for aircraft to hit, or too likely to inflict civilian casualties. But they were also taking out enemy leaders if possible and generally wrecking havoc on the ground. The intention was to cause the enemy to think that there was a much larger presence on the ground than the handful of troops there were through skilful misdirection. This was something that the Persian Special Forces had become very good at over the years, it had been used several times during the Amigardian War to draw enemy reinforcements away from a critical area or to generally make the enemy think twice about advancing into an area. Behind enemy lines there were Persians who were very very busy doing some very bloody and dark work, but it had to be done, it was for the greater good, and to prevent a genocide it was work that these men were willing to do.

Henche sighed again as he watched the last aircraft of the wave take to the skies.

Then he turned away to head down to the command centre, he had an air battle to command, even if he wasn’t there himself.

[Layarteb]

November 24, 2013 - 11:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Batumi, Georgia
Lukoil Gas Station
(41° 38' 26" N, 41° 39' 12" E)

With the beachhead established, the main brunt of the Marines were coming ashore in western Batumi, Adjara's capital city. There had been some sporadic fighting during the night and into the early parts of the morning but most of the Georgian forces withdrew before the Marines could mount a proper thrust. Intel rummaging through what few Georgians the Marines managed to kill estimated these units as small, squad and platoon-sized elements designed to provide early warning once the Marines began to fan out through the capital city. Morning was almost over though and the Marines were setting about establishing their presence throughout the city when the most horrific of sounds echoed around the stillness of Batumi, the sound of incoming artillery rounds. As unit struggled to get to cover, the artillery rounds began to walk around the city and in less than three minutes, the Marine commanders on the ground knew two things: the enemy had pre-fixed various points in the city and that they had a spotter somewhere close-by watching the Marines come ashore.

As orders filtered through the radio, Lieutenant Colonel Trevor Martin, commanding officer of the 365th Marine Assault Battalion, affixed to the 157th Marine Regiment of the 53rd Marine Brigade realized that his men were the closest to the hills east of Batumi, the most likely place that a spotter could be found. Commanding nine hundred and sixty-one men, LTC Martin had a lot of firepower at his disposal and he laid the mission down to Alpha Company, under the command of Captain Wade Parks. CPT Parks' company had at its disposal some ten M2048A1 Shark IFVs, eight M2032A2 Sabertooth MBTs, four M2048A2 Shark CFVs, and four M2050A1 Serpent LBTs, apart from the five command vehicles. As artillery screamed overhead, slamming closer to the beachhead, CPT Parks yelled into his radio to get 2nd Platoon on the move. Their five M2048A1s were parked near a Lukoil Gas Station just a few hundred meters from the city's main bus terminal.

"Order up!" Yelled First Lieutenant Willis Mack, a Kentucky native and the commanding officer of 2nd Platoon,"Gather round, hurry!" He yelled to his squad leaders as the M2048s rumbled to life. Surrounded by four sergeants and the platoon's senior sergeant, Staff Sergeant Preston Pitts, a much derided New Yorker, 1LT Mack went to work explaining the situation. "Arty's landing and obviously we've got to fucking neutralize the asshole spotting it. Intel thinks he's up on that hill, as if you fucking needed Intel to tell you where the highest goddamn point is." The sergeants laughed and he continued, "We're going to roll up there in force, all five vehicles in one shot. The road is pretty curvy so be on the lookout for ambushes, I want Bravo Squad leading the way up the hill on foot.

"Now we've got a few houses along the way so we have to make sure we check those first. If the assholes up there are a platoon or better they're going to have a squad down low to tell them that someone's coming up their back door. We've got to move fast but we can't fuck this up so 3rd Squad and 4th Squad is on backup. When 2nd Squad hits a house, 3rd you move up to point, and 4th moves to secondary, 2nd Squad will then take the rear and we'll rotate like that all the way up the hill.

"At the top we've got two main structures to check, one's a hotel, that's the Sputnik Hotel, that's to the south. The one here to the north is some sort of reception hall or something. The fuckers have got to be in one of those. So here's how we're going to set it up.

"When we hit the top, 1st and 2nd Squad are going to hit the hotel while 3rd and 4th Squad are going to hit the reception hall while 5th Squad holds here on this bend," 1LT Mack said, pointing to a bend in the road. "If those assholes sneak down the mountain to the rear you waste them. Once we've got both places neutralized, we'll find out what the Georgians have. I know that's not much but let's get it done!"

Quickly, the squad leaders agreed and moved off to their vehicles. Within two minutes, all five vehicles pushed forward and began to drive towards Batumi mount, ascending the hill from the roadway to its east. The going was slow and it took fifteen minutes just to get to the first bend in the road. Throughout this whole time, artillery continued to fall on the city but somewhat ineffectively now that the Marines were moving to better positions. It was obvious that though the Georgians had pre-sighted the city for artillery, they were firing from extreme range, thus making this attack against an area rather than a point target. The Georgians were known to have a number of 2S19M1-155 Msta self-propelled artillery pieces, which had a range of over forty kilometers. Counter-battery units were already assembling to locate the direction of the hostile fire and division commanders were organizing air assets for once the artillery was found.

Though the first leg of the journey took 1LT Mack's 2nd Platoon fifteen minutes, the next leg took less than five, thanks to the lack of structures. Rounding the next turn, with 4th Squad in the lead, the mechanized platoon had five structures to check and 3rd Squad held point after all five had been checked and they came into the next bend. This time, 5th Squad detached and set up their hold point, guarding the rear. Not more than fifty meters above them stood the Sputnik Hotel, which lay eerily still and silent. On the next leg, 3rd Squad hit the single home and 4th Squad took point, still not having encountered any advance units. However, that was the last structure and the platoon around the next three bends before they were face-to-face with the reception hall.

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November 24, 2013 - 11:20 hrs [UTC+2]
Batumi, Georgia
Seaside Park
(41° 39' 12" N, 41° 37' 58" E)

Just a few meters to the east of eight tennis courts in Seaside Park stood the 365th Marine Assault Brigade's counter-battery unit, which had been attached to its Delta Company. Delta Company was a mixed artillery company with six M777A4 towed 155-millimeter howitzers, four 120-millimeter manually operated mortars, four 120-millimeter mobile mortars, and two air defense units. The company had two counter-battery teams and one of them was located here while the other had been put at the airport. With artillery falling, both units worked together to triangulate the incoming fire but it still took longer than it should have for them to pinpoint the incoming to an area to the north, near Leghva.

"Up near Leghva?" The conversation steered as a young radar operator said, referring to his sheet.

"Yes sir, the other station agrees with the area. That's the best we can pinpoint it to right now."

"That's nearly forty klicks away?"

"Extreme range sir, it explains why we're getting hit by an area barrage rather than against specific targets. They still have a spotter though; the artillery isn't random enough to be just blind firing."

"All right Specialist, I'll get this up to division then and see what we can do for air, good work men but next time I want it in half the time. No, a third of the time!"

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November 24, 2013 - 11:28 hrs [UTC+2]
Tskhemlisi, Georgia
Kintrishi Nature Reserve
(41° 41' 13" N, 42° 9' 19" E)

Flying in a two-ship formation, Unforgiven 1-1 and Unforgiven 1-2, led by the ever decorated MAJ Fordham were in a holding situation, loitering just outside of the Kintrishi Nature Reserve in support of a friendly, Adjarian Revolutionary Force unit that was battling with a small platoon of Georgian soldiers. MAJ Fordham and his wingmen had yet to release any ordinance and they were third in the queue for air support when the radio echoed, "Unforgiven 1-1, Overwatch 0-5, new tasking," came the impersonal voice of a controller from an orbiting airborne early warning aircraft.

"Overwatch 0-5, Unforgiven 1-1, confirm you are releasing us from close air support mission?"

"Roger that Unforgiven 1-1, new tasking, proceed two-zero miles bearing 0-4-5 of Bulls-eye. Contact Marine command on channel 16 for tasking."

"Copy Overwatch 0-5, we're proceeding to destination." MAJ Fordham said, shaking his head. He turned his head around as he pulled off his orbit pattern and put in the new course to his autopilot, "Merlin, does that make sense?"

"Not to me, there's no Marines that far north."

"All right, well let's get on with it then. Lucky, let's go, turn to heading 3-1-1, maintain angels 20."

"Two, copy." Came the reply and the two fighters pulled out of the queue to the annoyance of the special forces JTAC on the ground and turned for Leghva, which was just over seventeen miles away. A small province, Adjara was barely fifty miles wide at its widest and less than thirty in terms of north to south distance.

Over the network, MAJ Fordham immediately heard a callsign he did not recognize, "Unforgiven 1-1, this is Victoria-Actual, do you copy?"

"Victoria-Actual, Unforgiven 1-1, yes we copy," responded Merlin. "Identify yourself we don't have that callsign in our cheat sheet."

"Marine counter-battery Unforgiven 1-1, we're under a barrage here in Batumi."

"Marine counter-battery?" MAJ Fordham said to no one in particular as he listened to the radio back-and-forth.

"Okay we've got you Victoria, what's the target?"

"We believe six guns, self-propelled howitzers in the vicinity of Leghva, we need you to neutralize those guns."

"Can you advise on triple-A?"

"Sorry Unforgiven 1-1, we have no idea, location is an approximate, best we could do."

"Roger that Victoria, will advise, friendly forces anywhere near?"

"None, we're still in Batumi."

"Okay Victoria, hang tight, we're on it," Merlin responded, shaking his head.

"Ain't that for nothing?" Came Lucky, the pilot of Unforgiven 1-2, MAJ Fordham's wingman, "Well we've got the ordinance for it at least."

"That we do two, let's go combat spread and start looking, it might not take that long."

"Roger that, two is pushing out," came the reply. Both fighters were carrying a CAS loadout but they could hit enemy artillery guns easily with that loadout. Fuel tanks had occupied their inner and centerline hardpoints but all of those had been expended and jettisoned by now and as such, both fighters were only on internal fuel but they had at least 75% of that amount remaining. Their two center-wing hardpoints held four, 500-lb. GBU-12F/B Paveway II bombs and their outer-wing hardpoints were each carrying a single, CBU-104A/B Gator cluster bomb.

"All right Merlin, let's leave the ECM on automatic and the flare dispensers too. Last thing I want is to eat a missile here. If we have any groups, sometimes they put two guns next to one another, we'll use the Gators on them first. We'll hit the rest with the Paveways."

"Got it, scanning FLIR now, we've got some difficulty down there. They're using camouflage netting, unless they're not there of course."

"Could be a possibility, counter-battery is hit-or-miss sometimes." They closed the distance quickly, traveling at over 400 mph. As they closed to within ten miles of the city though, Merlin had yet to find anything on his infrared search and track – that was until he panned over to the west and scanned the nearby town of Tskavroka, about one and a half miles west.

"All right I've finally got something, two guns, dug in and camouflaged, west in Tskavroka," he answered. "Positive ID though, I see them running all around it on visual. Yep, there goes some rounds," he said as he watched the puff of smoke from both gun barrels.

"You hear that Pirate?"

"Roger that I've got the target," replied Pirate, Lucky's WSO. "Who's taking it?"

"Lucky, roll in hot on it with a cluster. We'll keep looking for the rest."

"Roger that, rolling in now, let's hope they don't have any missiles now…"

As Lucky rolled in on the target, MAJ Fordham watched as the F-58B Viper ahead of him went into a shallow dive. No doubt, Lucky was bombing by the CCRP computer rather than the CCIP, which MAJ Fordham preferred. Ahead of him, he watched as Lucky went into his dive, even seeing the point where the bomb was released. As Lucky pulled out of the dive, Merlin called out to him, "I've got the next two."

"Okay where?"

"Bearing 2-7-5, you've got it?"

"Aye, I've got it, okay let's roll in and see what we can do, set the burst to 1-8-0-0 feet."

"Roger that, burst set to eighteen hundred." MAJ Fordham turned the fighter to the right heading and flipped it over on its back before leveling out in a steep dive. They were close to the target so he couldn't afford to take a shallow dive like his wingman. Tracking the CCIP piper across the ground, he released the single bomb about four miles from the target and an altitude of 12,000 feet. Lighting the burners, he pulled back hard on the stick as the fighter came out of the dive and gained more altitude, which was the way to survive against ground-launcher, man-portable missiles.

"Outlaw, you've got group two, we're rolling in on group three, just spotted it," Pirate said over the radio.

"Roger that, we're off target now, looking for group four or more, Victoria thought there were six."

"That's four down and two to go, rolling in now," Lucky responded as he came around to attack the third group of guns. By then, the first two artillery pieces had gone up in flames and the Georgian soldiers knew that they were found and under attack from the air. On the ground, MANPAD teams scurried to get their Igla-S missiles on their shoulders and into the sky.

"Oh shit," Merlin yelled seconds later as the missile warning system on his own aircraft detected the missile launch and dispensed a stream of flares. "Lucky, missile inbound, break."

"Roger that we've got it, flares away," the Viper pulled hard off of the target as the bomb smashed into the two artillery pieces. The incoming missile streaked up at them but was confused by the flares and ran out of energy before it got to Lucky's climbing fighter. Inside his cockpit, getting control of his breathing, Lucky responded back over the radio, "Well they've got missiles."

"Roger that, let's let Victoria know," MAJ Fordham switched channels, "Victoria-Actual, Unforgiven 1-1, we have engaged and destroyed six artillery guns west of your original advised location. How do you want us to proceed?"

"Remain on station Unforgiven 1-1, we think there's ten guns in total."

"You think?" MAJ Fordham said over the radio but then to Merlin only he added, "Are they fucking kidding us?"

"Roger that Unforgiven 1-1, hard to say. Advise time on station?"

"Ten minutes, tops."

"Will advise, keep searching for more guns."

"Gee, thanks," MAJ Fordham responded but not over the net. Instead, he responded with a simple "Roger" and formed back up with his wingman at 20,000 feet. "Lucky, you hear that?"

"I did, I don't want to hang around here for another ten minutes. They might have some mobile units down there."

"They might, let's just see what we can find, Merlin, Pirate, get on it. Look for more guns, you guys take north of the highway, we'll take south."

"Roger that, Outlaw, we're turning off for the north now." Between their radar and their infrared systems, the two fighters began to sweep for more guns. It took four minutes to find the first pair, which were situation approximately three miles due north of Leghva. Lucky rolled in on them and dropped two of his laser-guided bombs, destroying each gun with a pass per. By using his laser-guided bombs, he avoided getting to low and thus making himself vulnerable to further, ground-launched missiles.

South of the highway, MAJ Fordham and Merlin found the second pair of guns dug in behind a hill and engaged them with their last cluster bomb. MAJ Fordham kept above 15,000 feet on his descent and watched as the bomblets exploded around the two guns, destroying them both. He was about to start bringing his aircraft around to bug out when Merlin called out that a sixth pair of guns had just been found on the infrared system. They were on the move, heading east on the highway and moving at a high rate of speed with a column of armored trucks. With six GBU-12s left between both fighters, they swooped in and attacked the vehicle convoy, taking out the two guns first and then destroying four of the armored personnel carriers in the process. MAJ Fordham reported that six guns had been destroyed along with the four APCs, as they were "winchester," meaning out of ordinance, they heading back to base.

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November 24, 2013 - 11:30 hrs [UTC+2]
Batumi, Georgia
Batumi Mount
(41° 38' 26" N, 41° 39' 12" E)

Unbeknownst to 1LT Mack the guns had been neutralized when 1st Squad and 2nd Squad hit the reception hall and 3rd Squad and 4th Squad hit the hotel. He remained outside with the vehicles, watching the entrances and exits to both buildings in case the enemy made a run for it. Quiet fell over the area as the four squads moved into the two structures and began to search them. It wasn't before long, a mere few seconds before a whispered response came over, "Mack, it's Riggs, we've got a tripwire here. Going to ignore it and move on, we think we've got hostiles here." 1LT Mack didn't bother responding, he just clicked his microphone twice, acknowledging

The noise of gunfire erupted no more than sixty seconds later and it was all coming from the reception hall as the radio blurted out, "Contact! Reception Hall, upper floor," SGT Harvey Riggs, 2nd Squad's leader yelled into his microphone. More gunfire echoed as 1LT Mack checked in with 3rd Squad and 4th Squad in the hotel, where everything was quiet for the time being. He warned them of possibly booby traps and waited now for the result of the firefight. He hoped that 1st Squad and 2nd Squad could hold their own since he didn't want to detach either 3rd Squad or 4th Squad from the hotel or 5th Squad from down the road.

Gunfire continued for another few minutes while both sides traded shots back and forth. 1LT Mack asked a few times if backup were needed but he was pushed aside each time. When it was all over the sound of gunfire stopped, SGT Riggs reported four enemy KIAs but one of his own, a young private named Dunbar who caught a burst through the wall that stitched his neck.

The news was sobering, PVT Dunbar was green, fresh out of boot camp, barely nineteen years old but he was a favorite among the men. To relieve boredom, he had a habit of doing imitations of their battalion CO and it was a riot to everyone, even 1LT Mack who laughed only quietly and away from the men. He was also the reigning checkers champion of the company and now, age nineteen years, three months, two days, he was going home in a body bag with a single medal pinned to him, the Purple Heart.