“Our cause is righteous and holy, our cause is identical to the struggle of Saint George killing the dragon, or Saint Michael the Archangel subduing Lucifer during the war in heaven. We are fighting a dragon and that dragon is a beast of Lucifer, we must destroy the dragon without mercy or hesitation, our crusade, our great pilgrimage is a war upon the Devil himself”- Pope Pius III
It was a warm evening, the sky was a beset with an blue – orange tint, typical of a Rodarian early summer evening, Private Ion Lacatus sat out on the balcony of his parent’s house on the slopes of the Apostle Mountains, below him and the house, the vast metropolis that was Romula, luckily enough the smog was not smothering the beautiful sight, he could see the glittering skyscrapers of Lipascani district and just beyond it, the towering dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica. He sat quietly staring at the vast dome, which, to him and billions of Catholics across Pardes was the beating heart of their faith. He took a deep breath and took in the sight one last time, for tomorrow, he would leave Rodarion’s Eden and strike pain and fear at the Itailian demon.
“Come, Ion dinner is ready” Ion’s dear mother smiled, he stood up from the wicker chair and walked into the dinning room. There sitting before him was his father, smiling as he always did, at the head of the table. Lacatus sat down opposite him at the other end, his mother placing on the table a roasted chicken along with potatoes, vegetables and glasses of red wine.
“Grace” his father smiled, taking Ion’s mother’s hand.
“Lord, we thank you for this meal. We thank you, as always for the security and health you grant us each day. We pray to you for the safety of our son, who goes on tomorrow to fight your holy war, we pray for his brothers in arms and all young Rodarians heading off to fight your righteous cause. Amen” he half heartedly smiled and he sliced up the chicken, Ion’s mother barely holding back the tears. They then begun to eat, in silence... this was a first.
They ate swiftly, his mother taking many and heavy gulps of her wine, his father never looked up from his plate, Ion himself looked out of the window. He had spent the past two months on the border with Itailia, digging foxholes and setting up decoy tanks and constantly training, the fact is, he missed it. He missed the foxhole full of his squad members, he missed the camaraderie, he missed the excitement of the wait, now he no longer had to wait. Then suddenly his mother burst into tears, his father gripped her hand tight, her blood shot teary eyes looked into his. Ion, dressed in his black coloured formal dress stood up and grabbed his mother tightly. He looked at his father, who cried silently, the two then looked up to the wooden cross on the wall overlooking the table, his father understood.
“My little boy, my little boy, my little boy” his mother sobbed. He held her tight and finally his family cried together.
The next morning – Judgement Day ‘Eve’
Lacatus quietly closed the front door, he walked out onto the street, there waiting for him was Private Dorin Sabau, his closest friend and his new squad member, Sabau’s squad had been merged into Lacatus’ under the new plan for 10 man sized squads. Sabau placed his arm around Lacatus and the two walked towards the bus stop, the two had been neighbours for 23 years, since day one of their lives. They walked in silence, they got on the bus in silence and drove to the metro-station in silence, they travelled to Saint Carol Train Station in silence and finally spoke as they entered the vast hall of the station. As they walked past commuters, they received smiles, nods and winks from the women.
Their train bound for Vesarius on the border with Itailia, was due to depart in 20 minutes, over 100 other soldiers dressed in their black formal dress waited on the platform alongside them, none from the same unit sadly, the rest of the squad was from outside Romula. As they waited, a priest placed his suitcase down beside them and smiled.
“Father” Sabau smiled.
“Never been to Vesarius before” the 30 odd year old commented, clearly nervous.
“New diocese?” Ion asked.
“No, I joined the Army as a Chaplain” the priest laughed.
“Oh what unit?” Sabau enquired.
“38th Infantry Brigade” the priest looked out towards the trainline as if the answer was there before him.
“That’s us” Sabau laughed alongside Lacatus.
“No way?” the priest laughed, extending his hand, his black cassock pristine in nature.
“Yeah, 11th Company” Lacatus replied.
“By God, this is fate, that’s me” the priest laughed again, relieved he had made two acquaintances already
.
“We already have a Company Chaplain though” Sabau enquired curiously.
“Oh, yes... well he left the Papal Army, gone in with the Defence Corps wouldn’t you know it, the name is Tavian Radu” the priest smiled.
“Ah, I didn’t like him anyway, I am Ion Lacatus, private and this is private Dorin Sabau” Lacatus nodded.
“Nice to meet both of you” Radu smiled, pulling out his mobile phone, he noted a message from his brother, smiled and turned it off. As he did the train doors opened, the high speed KLA33 train was among the fastest in Pardes, it would still take a 4 hour train journey to reach Vesarius regardless, but that meant they could get to know each other.
That night – 22.34pm
Sabau, Lacatus and Radu sat inside the foxhole, dressed in combat fatigues. Corporal Constantin Pavenic, the squad leader sat quietly reading revelations from the Bible. The rest of the squad sat silently, sleeping, reading or sharpening their combat knives or bayonets. They had all just eaten their evening meal, now all they had to do was wait until 3.30am for their crusade to begin.
Radu looked up at the squad he was attached to and smiled, he had learned all their names and received much respect and kindness from the squad, but what they didn’t know was that he, like most other Chaplains was a fervent fundamentalist and utterly loyal to the Papacy. He stood up, coughed loud enough to gain everyone’s attention and held out his arms.
“Pray with me brothers, let us pray that we don’t get food poisoning from that maggoty filth they call field rations” he laughed, as did the squad.
“Dear Lord, we pray to you this evening for grace and divine strength, to carry us forward, into the heart of Drakkar. May we at every step, step in the footsteps of warriors past, may we at each step spread your eternal victory, may we march forward with your hand leading the way towards victory over the wicked and the sinful.
We pray that you give unto us your strength, your resilience and your blessing. We pray that we, as your army on earth, do you proud, we pray that you make us strong in our hearts and clear in our minds, we pray our pilgrimage against the Pagan is a success, we pray that should we fall upon this mortal battlefield, you accept our souls as warrior souls.
In your name lord we fight, in your name lord we die, bless us as we march forward with the cross as our banner.
Amen.” The squad replied with amen, exchanging looks they readied themselves inside. Time was running out until the final moment.
Papal Army Radio Service – 22.40pm
“To all soldiers of the Papal Army,
This is the final message, before this great legion of heaven sets forth to bring an end to the Itailian nation. Please listen carefully, the voice speaking will be his Holiness the Pope.
...
“Dear sons, I speak to you now in a secure location, a world away from fields and forests you now sit within, waiting every so patiently for the moment the ‘fourth crusade’ begins. We all knew this day was coming, we all knew this moment would come and we are ready for it, we were born ready, because the lord himself, ensured that every Rodarian would be capable of taken on the most daunting tasks, without fear, without remorse or worry. My words will do little to aid you in your spiritual preparations I fear, but alas I shall try.
“Michael the Archangel is with you, he stands with you upon the battlefield. Every pagan and heathen you slay, he slays a thousand more with his sword of heaven, the ground God blessed will be stained with the blood of the spiritually impure, the ground will be stained with the blood of criminals, brigands and whores. The ground will be covered with the rotting corpses of the devil’s circle.
“We do not relent, for the Lord does not. We do not tire, because the Lord never tires. We fight on and on until we are victorious or all in Heaven, because the Lord demands it. We fight on and on until either the entire heathen race against us is dead or we, the children of God rot upon our soil. Remember this, remember this when you fight in the vineyards, the valleys and cities of Drakkar, remember this when you are at the gates of Nece, Diolia, Arpissa, remember that every kilometre you clear of the enemy, is another kilometre of Christendom liberated from the grip of Paganism. The Drakkarian people are a part of God’s family, as much as you or I and they need saving and it is your job, as the warriors of Christ, to produce such an independent future for those poor souls.
Remember this above all else, Paganism offers no morality to man, it only offers debauchery, sin and vile thoughts of the self. Christ gave to us, laws and virtues that would make us pure beings worthy of existing in God’s heaven, for we all carry the original sin and for us, it is vital to live the life demanded by Christ. A pagan has no such moral strength; he is a broken and soulless beast, he is a predator, a stalker and a corrupter, who bows before an idol upon a table. O what a disgrace if such a despised and horrid race, which worships demons, should conquer a people which has the faith of omnipotent God and is made glorious with the name of Christ!
Do not fear the coming storm dear sons, for you are soldiers of the Lord. And we, the Mother Church and this nation stand behind you, every step of the way. Pray, fight hard and do not relent, and victory shall be placed upon the altar of the lord.
May god be with you all” the pope’s rusty voice echoed out across the entire deployment area, it was so loud, the men on the other side of the Rubicon must of heard it. Of course, they had to speak Rodarian to understand it. The squad looked at each other and knew it was time for shut eye, for in the next five hours, they would be going to fight God’s crusade.
3.00am – Judgement Day (Itailian Border)
It was to begin, Operation Judgement took numerous forms and phases, each most dependent on the former, each most dependent on the first and the first was about to begin. From across the seven provinces of northern Rodarion, hundreds of cruise missiles were lifted up by their TELs, close 1,230 SRBMs were also being lifted up for the coming storm. But first came the ‘Angel’s strike’, 328 attack aircraft of the Papal Air Force raced towards the Rubicon River, supported by four AWACs aircraft, their targets were the radar installations and air defences lining the Rubicon line. Behind them were a further 340 aircraft, tasked with destroying confirmed command and control centres, identified by weeks of ELINT and insurgent intelligence, but they also targeted the airfields, supply depots and service airfields to knock out the CDI’s airpower on the ground.
On the ground, the constant roaring of jet engines shook the earth as wave upon wave of aircraft rushed overhead. Hundreds of RE-7 CAS aircraft prepared their lock-on radar, at 400km range the YJ-12 ARM was a fine anti-radar missile, at mach 2.3 it was a fast bastard too. These aircraft covered 1,200km of the border, ‘Blast a hole through, let the water storm in’ was the mentality of the Papal Air Force and today it was to pay off.
As their missiles left their racks and darted down towards the Rubicon Line, the second wave began its moves, they converged and dived down to the ground and headed towards the expected gaps in the radar network, behind these RE-7, RE-6 and RE-H3 aircraft were 85 RE-H4 bombers, the bombers were armed with 800 sensor-fuzed bombs a piece, their job was to blast the dug in tanks along the Rubicon Line to pieces, the other aircraft were to surge forward, take down any enemy AWACs as well as attacking key infrastructure links that connected the Rubicon Line to the rest of Drakkar – bridges, tunnels, elevated highways, railways, gas stations and small civilian airfields.
As those aircraft flew forward to war, the cruise missiles took action. A collection of various cruise missiles, including CJ-10s, Iskanders and J-600Ts, their targets were also airbases, infrastructure links, powerplants, communication hubs and certain points along the Rubicon Line (the Rubicon missiles were armed with cluster munitions, incendiary warheads and sensor fused bombs). At 3.14am, the cruise missiles opened up. At 3.15pm the first targets were hit by the second wave of aircraft, they ran amok, dropping anti-runway bombs down into vast stretches of tarmac, others fired guided missiles towards the air traffic control towers and fuel depots, others strafed the hangars, runways with their cannons hoping to score a few kills the old fashioned way. The airbases roughly 100km north of the border were the targets, any further and the risk of a major air counter-attack was too great. The airbases further on from 100km were targets of the cruise missiles, the RE-H3 fighters broke off and began their hunt for enemy aircraft, as the airbases began to burn, the aircraft rebounded and headed south to take out any radar installations or SAMs, if they couldn’t they would rush back to base, rearm and refuel and go back up again.
As the cruise missiles headed towards their targets and the aircraft returned home (albeit the fighters remained), the short range ballistic missiles had their go. They would strike the Rubicon Line and the wider border areas, either on the lines themselves or the reserve areas, at 1,250kg of HE a piece inside each warhead, they were heavy bangers. The TELs erupted into light as the missiles left their holders and up into the dark early morning sky, the crews and soldiers standing around them cheered and yelled in joy as the darted off towards the war.
At 3.20pm it was time to begin Phase 2, over 6,000 artillery pieces lifted up their guns and racks towards the sky, a mixture of SPG, towed howitzers and MRLS prepared to offer their munitions to the CDI on the border, silence... then it began. The sound and sight of the vast number of weapons opening up was on biblical scales, the sky flashed orange and red near constantly. The sound echoing for miles upon miles, systems on the river itself such as the WM-100 MRLS unleashed their 30 220mm thermobaric missiles off towards the Rubicon Line itself at several points, before them thousands of artillery shells exploded along the Itailian side of the river, as the thermobaric rockets unleashed blazing flames upon the line, Phase 2 continued. At eight points along the river 8,000 Orducii fighters armed with Irkutian made FA-79 assault rifles, RPG-7s, and deployable PF-98 anti-tank rocket systems rushed forward carrying dingies and row boats, jumping into the cold Rubicon waters, they began head across the river en-mass a thousand men at each point. Supported by both 80mm and 120mm mortars these men were the bravest, the most fanatical, they were the Orducii after all.
Adrian Năstase, sat within the wooden row boat, as his 10 man sized ‘Strike Cell’ rowed as quickly as their arms would let them, before the vast orange horizon that was the burning shore of the Itailian side of the Rubicon, rockets, shells, missiles and aircraft shot over head, the constant sound of explosions vibrating the Rubicon waters, the boat and Năstase’s chest. His FA-79 assault rifle held tightly to his chest, his basic fatigues, combat boots and tin helmet from the 60s was all that made him look professional, what he lacked in training, skill or understanding of warfare, he made up for in spirit and the unrelenting hatred of Itailians, three months a year of basic training was all he could count on in the thick of it, but at the end of the day he could aim and shoot and knew the importance of speed and cover. At the head of the boat was the Cell Leader, a 54 year old former Papal Navy Marine.
“Come on, come on you fuckers ROW!” he roared.
"We're rowing as fast we can sir!" some exhusted soul screamed out in response, as he did the entire boat shook as a low flying RE-7 fired off its 80mm rockets, flying overhead at over 800kmph.
Seconds passed but it felt like hours, finally the row boat grounded and the cell jumped out and rushed up the river bank towards the Rubicon line. Roaring like animals the growing mass of armed Orducii was a sight to be seen, finally lifting themselves over the bank, they ran as fast as they could towards the line. Suddenly three explosive line charges were fired off from launchers within the charging mass, over they went, landing across the ground identified as a minefield by drones and satellite information, the three explosions shook the crust of the earth it seemed, many Orducii tripping over or being pushed back by the shockwave. Not that it mattered, the Orducii were human mine clearers anyway, they continued onwards, before them a hellstorm of fire, shell and missile. And the fire kept being dropped on the Itailian lines, above them hundreds of black specs could be seen falling down towards the ground, these were 11,000kg of HE free fall bombs from RE-H4 bombers operating at 43,000ft, these bombs were destined for the VLS tubes located inside cement boxes. Those VLS boxes were also being pounded by 120mm, 155mm shells from howitzers and self propelled guns 30-45km south, yet despite the maelstrom of fire and death rising before them, Năstase and his 999 fellow Orducii continued rushing forward. Behind Năstase’s 1,000 a further 1,000 Orducii fighters crossed the river, armed with heavier weapons they prayed to the Lord above the first wave would pave the way open.
At eight different points along the Rodar-Itailian border, Orducii fighters surged ahead towards Hell’s gates. Supported by hundreds of artillery guns of various sizes, over the past 30 minutes, over 5,500 tons of explosives had been dropped on the eights under attack, thousands of more tons had been dropped behind on the lines of airbases, infrastructural links, communication hubs, supply depots and supposed command and control centres.
Red boxes indicate areas under Orducii attack (apologies for the shitness of the picture)
