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

by **The Master M** » Fri May 27, 2011 2:42 pm

"War is the continuation of policy by other means."

“Amusing, isn't it? That so many should die over something worth so little?” The speaker towered over the large interactive display, his sweeping black coat contrasting blindingly with his pale skin. A dozen similarly attired men watched the display with deep interest, breaking only concentration when a distant klaxon erupted with noise. A slight smile broke over his face, revealing sharp, perfectly whitened teeth. “Authorise the use of all force,” he said confidently, “it is time.”

***

The small, almost barren island of Hellena, an island shared between the Most Serene Republic of the Master M and the Communist People's Republics of Strathy, would soon prove to be the testing ground for many nations. Popular rumour would later say that it all started over the Strathian claim over the pitifully unyielding gold deposit that was said to lie under the Mian half of the island. Naturally, the Most Serene Republic did not view such claims lightly, and promptly disputed the Strathian right to the other half of the island. Secret dispatches that can be found within the Master M Intelligence Service show, however, that the Strathians had made no such claims, the entire dispute being a subterfuge through which the Most Serene Republic could gain an opportunity to show its strength.

For the few thousand Mian citizens that strove to scrape a living on Hellena, this meant prosperity as hundreds of thousands of military personnel flooded into the island, in the poorly constructed guise of holding “exercises”. For the military, this was a chance to see some action, something that had been greatly missed during the Most Serene Republic's years of isolation. For all involved, this was a time to step up or die. And all for a scrap of land that held absolutely no strategic value.

***

The small sliver of light blue ringing the western horizon signalled the coming of day. The slight breeze coming in from the sea swept over the thin strip of barren land that would soon be the cause of much pain and death. Thousands of soldiers along the frontier readied themselves for the coming day, performing the little rituals that men in danger often undertook; for some, it was ensuring that their lucky talisman was in it's correct place, be it the bullet that almost killed them or a rabbits foot, for others simply checking their equipment repeatedly, or sharing a pre-battle mug of tea with their companions. For Commander Angus Maybury, it was ensuring that his Flyssa sword (against regulations) had a sharp enough edge to cleave through the flesh and sinews that it would inevitably meet. He much preferred the long, powerful blade to the standard issue officers sabre, as it provided a better hacking edge than the aforementioned sabre.

After the armourer put the final touches to the weapon, Commander Maybury handed the man a six hundred Steryl note (close to a months wage) and sheathed the killing device. It's black and gold sheath hung strongly on his white leather belt, which, like his black uniform, was mostly hidden underneath an ornate black cloak. Walking amongst the hundreds of tents that had formed the living area for the frontline soldiers, he nodded and waved to many of the men who saluted, whilst pretending to ignore the red-clad figure running hastily after him. “Commander!” shouted the man, who was by now too close and too loud for the Commander to ignore, “Commander!”

“Lieutenant Heyes, it seems I shall never escape your incessant pampering,” he replied, with an almost mischievous smile. The Lieutenant feigned a look of deep hurt, before brushing some non-existent lint from the commanders cloak. “Really sir, you know that your Aide-de-camp I'm obliged to cater to your every whim or need, whether or not you have actually realised what those whims or needs are. Really sir,” he continued, pausing for dramatic effect to look even more hurt, “you do try terribly hard to avoid me.”

“Not hard enough apparently. So, I assume you are here to tell me what I already know?”

The look of surprise that should have passed over Heyes' face transformed merely into one of annoyance. “Of course sir, one such as you is always well informed. Indeed, one wonders what you even need an Aide-de-camp for. But I digress; the other commanders are awaiting your visit in the Command Post.”

Still smiling, Maybury climbed into a jeep that Heyes had clearly requisition for the express purpose of bringing his wandering charge back to the Command Post. Ten minutes later, and near the summit of the highest point on the Mian side of the island, he jumped out of the vehicle and walked briskly into the entrance to the underground complex. In the main room, dozens of screens lined every wall, rows of consoles filled the edges of the room and the centrepiece consisted of a large, flat rectangular 'table', fitted into the floor. As the occupants of the room paused from their work to salute, a small group of men, some clad similarly to Maybury (the only exception being that instead of a white officers sash, they wore red), advanced smiling. “Welcome back Angus,” started one, patting him on the back, “we thought you'd miss the start of the show old boy.”

“Gentlemen, please, show me where we are,” the Commander said, motioning to the table in the centre. At his command, a three dimensional holographic display showing the island sprang to life, showing the almost real-time positioning of each Mian military asset, and the positions of the Strathian units (both confirmed and suspected). Represented were hundreds of artillery pieces, mobile missile launchers, ships and aircraft, all ready to deliver the hammer blow that would precede the Mian assault. All callsigns represented on the display showed 'Ready' as their status. Maybury smiled as he turned from the table, making for the exit. “Gentlemen, if you would follow me?”

Once outside, the assembled group stood on the viewing platform that faced the front lines. Heyes brought out a small leather box, opened it and handed each man a small glass, before filling it with what appeared to be whiskey. “Give the signal,” Maybury said into his throat mike. Seconds later, a single artillery piece fired. “Gentlemen,” he said, raising his glass as a second shot was fired, “to today's fox!” As they raised their glasses, a third gun fired. “Today's fox!” they replied. And all hell broke loose.

Within seconds, hundreds of artillery pieces fired, salvo after salvo of missiles were launched (both from land launchers and nearby ships) and dozens of aircraft swept overhead. They were targeting every known Strathian military structure, every know troop concentration, airfields, naval docks and every other viable target. The ships out to sea fired upon every Strathian naval vessel within range. The MMS Achillies, the Atlantis class aircraft carrier, launched all of it's attack aircraft.

The day had come, and boldly holding it's hand was Death.

***

Even before the opening salvoes were being fired, the effort to combat the Strathian counter-attack were being put into place. A massive naval force was already stationed in international waters, and, after nearly four months of planning, was nearly in position to deliver what was hoped would be a crippling blow to the Strathians. Thirty Atlantis class aircraft carriers, along with suitable escorts, would form the main sword thrust, amounting to just over four hundred naval vessels. They would make for the Strathian homeland, to prepare for an invasion, and to attempt to waylay any enemy ships found on the way. Said group expected to be within extreme aircraft range of Strathy in just under a week. The second naval group consisted of two Longsword class guided missile ships, each leading a force of one hundred and twenty ships (including a dozen aircraft carriers in each force), and would also make Strathy, but would not reach it for thirteen days.

Scattered around the waters between both the Most Serene Republic and Strathy, and Hellena and Strathy were hundreds of hunter-killer submarines, patrolling beneath the waves in an effort to locate and destroy enemy shipping, be it commercial or military. Increased destroyer patrols would also attempt to police the massive expanse between the two nations, with orders to destroy enemy ships on sight. This was but the first step; the worst was still to come.

by **Strathy** » Sat May 28, 2011 3:24 am

It had started as a relatively quiet day for everybody on the Strathan side of Hellena. Major General Franz Gillsburg surveyed the vast expanse of the gardens. He had taken up residence in the governor's house, upon personal request of the governor. Gillsburg was secretly quite relieved, staying in the town's barracks was the last thing he'd wanted. To stay with the common soldiery? No siree, that was not something for someone of his class.

The harsh sun blared down on the island as Gillsburg poured himself another brandy. As he lay back he thought to himself; I could yet used to this. A crappy island with no imminent threats. His thoughts were interrupted by the intercom in his room. He pushed down the button, "Yes?" He asked. He hadn't even bothered to learn the secretary's name. The reply came back in a broad north Strathan accent; "It's Colonel 'imms to see ye." The general straightened out his mousey grey uniform and made the reply. "Send Himms in, and learn to speak properly!" With that Gillsburg sat down and tried to look professional.

Himms walked in and the sight of him made the general uneasy. The colonel stood before him, a tall figure with his left arm missing. He had an eye patch over one eye and a row of medals to make the Field Marshal jealous. He wore his jacket open and kept his pistol in his top pocket. He stared disdainfully down at the well dressed general. Himms knew their type. All talk and no show. He wouldn't last long. The tension hung in the air and, eventually, it was Gillsburg to break the silence. "Well, Colonel, how can I help you?"
The Colonel presented a large folder to the General. "Sir, intelligence reports a massed build up of troops and ships from The Most Serene Republic on the other side of this island over the past 4 months. Sir, we don't know why, but it appears they are assembling an invasion force. Sir, I wish to..." He was cut of by the Generals laugh.
"My dear Himms, the Mian people have no quarrel with us, why should the wish to invade?"
"I don't know sir, but...."
"Well there you go. There has to be a reason to an invasion. Go back to your HQ and we'll see whether this invasion comes around." The General smiled casually towards Himms.
"Sir, will you at least look through the report?"
"Very well, dismissed colonel."

As Himms left the room Gillsburg leafed through the report. Who did that colonel think he was? Giving orders to a general? The nerve! The General has friends in New Glasgow who could make life very difficult for the Colonel.

The next morning Colonel Himms woke up in his bunker. Against the wishes of the General, he has put the entire front line on alert. He was not going to have some trumped up pencil pusher get the entire Hellenan defense corps killed. He climbed into his uniform, his lung wound from the First Stratho-Skerrian war burning in his chest. He knew that was a sign: something big was about to happen. He was met in a jeep by his adjutant and went of to the front to inspect the troops. He was pleased with what he saw, infantry in their bunkers and trenches, machine guns in their nests and artillery pieces lined up and ready to go. He gathered all the divisional commanders under a palm tree, the heat beating down on them and the already dead grass. He pointed at his map, flicking his pencil back and forth, outlining various supply groups and defense lines. He sat there with the commanders for a good half hour. As he stood up he addressed them: "Now, gentlemen, this is going to be tough. Co-ordination is crucial! I will be commanding from my bunker, all orders come and go through me. Understood?"
Major Felz of the 1st Tank battalion stood up. "Sir, what about Major-General Gillsburg?"
The Colonel shook his head. "Gillsburg is still convinced that there is no invasion plan. He knows nothing! Leave him be just now." The collective commanders nodded in agreement, they knew that Gillsburg was incompetent . Himms on the other hand was worth a hundred generals. "Gentlemen," Himms continued, "I have briefed the Wing Commander of the Island's Air Group and Commodore Hardy has a group of 4 cruisers and 2 destroyers standing by in port. Gentlemen, good luck!"

Just 10 minutes after the Colonel returned to his bunker, it started. It was fairly slow to start with, one shot, followed by a couple, but very soon every gun on the Mian lines was shooting at them. Soon, every Strathan gun replied, they knew that they were going to have to hold the line. The troops behind them were colonials: fanatics, but not quite up to the standard of the Strathan infantry. Rocket artillery began launching salvo after salvo of ammunition towards the Mian lines. Bombers took off from the airfield and began pounding the enemy lines. Meanwhile the infantry sat in their bunkers, fox holes and trenches, waiting for the inevitable attack. In just 10 minutes the peaceful summer's afternoon had been transformed into a scene straight from hell. And, General Gillsburg had no idea of any of it.

by **Peace for men** » Sat May 28, 2011 4:43 am

As the first shells began to cascade down on Hellena many leagues away President Makarov woke up to sound of the Red Guard 1st infantry divisions morning excerises. He swung his feet out from under his duvet and looked around bleary eyed at his room. It was the third day of the presidental military tour and the second day of his stay with the 1st infantry. Makarov stood up and walked over to the small table in his room and began to eat the meal that had been laid out on its surface for him a few minutes ago the young waitress knowing that the sounds of the mortar shells landing would wake the old war veteran up.

As Makarov was just settling into his third sassuage and was eyeing up his bacon a knock came at the door. "Enter." He said bits of sassuage falling from his full mouth. General Spyrik walked into the room and saluted before he began to speak, "Sir. We have just recieved reports from the front in Hopkinton and also a rather worrying report from our COCN ally and leader Strathy. It would appear that there has been an invasion of their half of the Island of Hellena they've sent out a distress call on all frequencies. I know we have forces fighting else where already but I request permission to activate my ten million strong task force and move to help." Makarov looked at the old general in front of him for a few seconds before responding. "Well Spyrik I feel that maybe it is for the best that we do that. You'll have as much naval and air support as can be offered. Now prepare your men another war should keep the men happy and take the First infantry with you. I would like to have a less sharpnel filled alarm clock next time i stay here." Spyrik grinned at his old comrade before saluting one last time and then leaving the office snapping orders to his aides immediately after the door had clicked shut.

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

Across Peace for Men the roar of trucks filled the city and towns and villages. Women and children weeped as the reservist units of the Red Army once more began to form into files in the streets one bag of possions each and only the clothes on their backs to their name. The radios and televisions all blared out the call to arms for the specific brigades and divisions and now the men were being loaded up onto the backs of trucks. Private Mik Lancer watched as all the people waved them away. He smiled as they drove through the crowded streets but once the crowds had stopped the smile fell from the faces of the men of his units. "Another war? Was that one in Arcaidia against the Mahaj bad enough? Now they want us to go shoot somebody else?" One man spoke up from further back in the truck only to be silenced from a sharp kick of the commissars boot, "Thats rebellious talk private be careful who hears you. Some may not use a boot." The men all groaned as Commissar Barlic started off on informing them of their objectives and duty to the nation. "I could've sworn I had that read to me back in Arcaidia about six times." Mik said to his friend who just laughed.

In the military dock yards of Peace for Men the 1st infantry division was slowly loading up ready to form the first wave alongside the 3rd armoured and the 14th mechanized divisions. 45,000 men in total were ready to move in as reinforcements alongside the joint strike force of nearly fifty ships. Ten battleships, twenty cruisers, three aircraft carriers and then an assortment of other naval craft all sat out to sea waiting for the army to finish loading up and to get moving forwards. One man commented that it seemed odd how quickly they had responded to something they might not yet be needed to help in anyway. In three days times the PFM first strike force under Spyrik would launch and be making steam for Hellena to arrive in two days after launch. Everyone prays that they won't be too late...

by **The Master M** » Sun May 29, 2011 1:48 pm

“When one man says to another, "I know what let's do today, let's play the war game."... everybody dies.”

“Things appear to be going well sir,” Lieutenant Heyes shouted over the noise of two AH-79C Anaconda¹ attack helicopters overhead unloading their combined payloads on forward enemy positions, “our losses so far appear to be more than acceptable.” The unshakable man almost flinched as a Strathian missile exploded forty metres behind him, tearing apart a one-five-five artillery piece and it's crew in a hail of fiery death.

Commander Maybury smiled at the this last remark, while observing the front line with the aide of a pair of flimsy, weather-beaten binoculars. The binoculars were a constant point of friction between the Commander and his Aide-de-camp, the latter continually attempting to convince his master that a new pair would serve his needs better. Said master was unwilling even to listen to that argument, since they were the same pair issued to him twenty-eight years previously, when he was nothing more than a wide-eyed private, and had remained in his possession in every battle he had faced. “Why are none of the support aircraft from XXXth Squadron present?”

“I do believe that they were caught on the ground when the first Strathian counter-barrage struck.”

“Heavy casualties?” responded Maybury, slight tones of concern creeping into his voice; he had old friends in XXXth Squadron.

“A few dozen ground crew, around a dozen aircrew and aircraft,” replied Heyes, reading them from a list on his tablet, “all in all a lucky escape.”

“A lucky escape? How so?” replied Maybury testily.

“It seems, sir, that a long-range refuelling aircraft was preparing to take off; if that had gone up, we probably would be looking at double the casualties.” He ducked as another missile exploded near them, this one close enough to send a five inch shard of shrapnel shooting past Maybury's head and decapitating his driver. “Seriously, is nobody going to return fire?” At this command, three of the remaining gun crews in the Command Post battery adjusted their guns and fired at the offending missile launcher. “Give the order for the main force to advance. All callsigns are a go for Operation Thor.” Heyes nodded, before running back into the command post.

Within minutes, thousands of men poured out of their forming up points, supported by hundreds of tanks and armoured fighting vehicles. Along with the continued artillery and missile fire coming from several Mian positions, the attacks were supported by two dozen of A-20A Renegade close air support aircraft, sixteen Anacondas and four squadrons of five F/A-38B Sentinel strike fighters. Any artillery pieces not actively engaging pre-determined targets were firing upon the discretion of the advancing troops; any defensive hardpoints that threatened to hold up the attack would be fired upon until they no longer represented a threat. For many a young recruit, this display of firepower was both awe inspiring and frightful.

Air support alone does not win wars however; the day would be won by boots on the ground, and the Mian troops advanced proudly, shrugging off the losses that the Strathians were inflicting. The real fight was just getting beginning, and many would die to see it through.

***

Sergeant John Lathe ran from the slight cover that a small rock had provided him, across a small stretch of open ground and, dodging or jumping over the bodies of his dead, dying and mutilated comrades, slid into an irrigation ditch. Formed up there were most of his section, many of whom were firing towards the enemy positions, while others were tending to slight wounds they had received in the mere quarter of an hour they had been in combat. Many ducked as the huge 20mm nose cannon of a passing Renegade hammered into the enemy position, throwing up earth and dust before it swerved away, clearly avoiding some sort of retaliatory fire.

The Section's sniper, a Corporal Valinski, took careful aim and fired. The Corporal, although acclimatised to the hot and humid atmosphere of Hellena, was nevertheless not exactly comfortable in the heat, being far more used to the arctic wastes found in the north of the Most Serene Republic. “Why do we never fight anywhere where it isn't so bloody hot?” he muttered to himself, before firing his rifle once again. He saw the glare of a combat scope; a split second of realisation was all he was allowed before the majority of his brain matter decided to vacate his skull with the aid of a large calibre bullet.

“Right lads,” began the Sergeant in the hoarse bellow familiar to all those who have had the misfortune to find themselves the target of a sergeants attention, “wait for the tank to cross the open ground and provide enfilading fire. On my mark,” he shouted, as the M-7 'Marauder'² Main Battle Tank emerged from a small glade of trees, steaming at full speed towards the enemy positions, “Wait for the tank to lay down smo-” he was interrupted as the tank exploded violently, apparently the victim of a well placed anti-tank missile. “Never mind lads, never mind. New plan; lay down smoke!” At this command, half a dozen smoke grenades began spewing smoke across the open ground. “Fix bayonets!” Each man in the ditch took a seventeen inch sword bayonet from their holsters, and placed it on the end of their battle rifles. “Charge!” screamed the Sergeant, sabre in one hand and pistol in the other, jumping out of the ditch and into the smoke ahead of his men...

***

MMS Vigilance, Orion Class missile cruiser
15km from Hellena

A haggard, well built and weather beaten naval officer calmly directed the men under his command. Following the orders of the Task Force leader, the MMS Achillies, the Orion was firing her cruise missiles towards the enemy ships that were now a clear and present danger to the Mian vessels stationed around the island. Although only consisting of six non-capital vessels, the Strathian force was still regarded as a threat; thusly, the correct procedures to remove this threat were to be taken. The Orion, like the other twelve missile cruisers of her class in the area, launched two salvos of six RGM-84 Harpoon sea-skimming AShMs³ – making twenty four missiles for each of the targeted Strathian ships.

About twelve kilometres away, the MMS Achilles was launching yet more fighters, in an effort to gain air superiority. These aircraft were the Most Serene Republic's dedicated air superiority fighter, the F-26A Tempest. Forty of these carrier based killing machines were patrolling the skies, some protecting their home-ship, the rest seeking out enemy fighters. One of these flights, consisting of four Tempests, had intercepted a flight of Strathian bombers; the engaged without mercy, firing their stores of AIM-120C AMRAAMs⁴ towards the offending aircraft. “Seirra One, Fox Three!”⁵

1 - Information on many of the aircraft I use can be found here.
2 - Essentially the same as the RL British Challenger II MBT
3 - AShM - Anti-Ship Missile
4 - AMRAAM - Advanced Medium Range Air-to-Air Missile
5 - Fox Three - Indicates launch of an active radar guided missile

by **Strathy** » Sun May 29, 2011 3:01 pm

Where there had once been a calm landscape, there was now hell. Opposing armies flung all they had at each other, pieces of red hot metal buzzed through the air. For the Strathan soldiers, it seemed like the seventh circle of hell; but for Colonel Henry Himms, it was another day at the office. He sat in his bunker, yelling commands down phones, sending runners this way and that. Strathan batteries had been pounding the enemy lines for hours now, but he knew that they weren't merely interested in a swapping of shells, the Mian forces were readying and attack. He could feel it, every fibre in his body twinged with fear and excitement, his lung wound burned steadily in his chest. This was only the beginning.

The Command Bunker had been thrown into chaos. Runners and messengers streamed everywhere, papers and maps lay strewn over the floors. Ajudants ran in and out of the bunker between their own commanders. Every now and again a shell would hit the roof and plaster dust would fall from the cielings. As yet another shell hit, everyone hit the floor, hands clasped to their heads in some fiutile gesture of protection. The Colonel, however, sat still, regarding the plaster dust as it fell from the roof, thinking how peaceful it looked in the midst of all this chaos. His day dreams were cut short, however. A haggard sergeant from the 8th Signal Battalion ran in with a report flapping in his hands. Blood stains covered is face and uniform, his clothes were ripped and his boots all but destroyed. The Colonel took the report.

"SitRep. Front as whole.

Artillery has neutralised enemy airfield in grid 123221
Enemy advances reported in all sectors. Defenses are withstanding. Heavy casualties on both sides.
2 Bombers en route to enemy rear intercepted and destroyed
Tank groups on Stand-by for counter attack
Destroyer SPS Firefly sunk
Cruiser SPS Dubrowsky, damaged in bombing, but still serviceable

End SitRep"

The Colonel smiled at the sergeant. "Thank you. deliver code word 'Zeus'. Counter attack commences on my command. Dismissed sergeant." With that, the sergeant rushed off with his message. The Colonel looked at his realtime display, the line was still fairly steady. Front echelons were holding out in all sectors, but for how long? Himms pushed an intercom button. "Corporal Smith, tell the Commodore to keep his fleet on full alert. They must keep the seas clean for Peace for Men's Forces to come through!"
There was a sound of pen on paper and then a response, "Yes, sir!"
The Colonel thought for a moment, then pushed the button once more. "Smith, talk to the General and get me an appointment."
"No use in that sir"
The Colonel was, for once, confused. "Why on earth not."
"He's been shelled."
The response was blunt. The General had been shelled by long range artillery. But that was that. Colonel Himms would take over, it would be for the best. He was sure of it.

Account of Lance Corporal Hanz Hasselborg

The front line was a mess. Trenches had been obliterated by shells, and those that remained useful were full of corpses and broken machines. Troops huddled together in shell holes, or in the remains of bunkers. The shelling had been harsh. One thing about the shelling, if you're in the infantry, is that there is no way to fire back at it. For those that remained, clung to their dug outs and defences, it was about to get worse. Suddenly, the shelling died down. Then, they came. Wave after wave of Mian troops, bayonets gleaming. The ran at the Strathan defences in massive groups. The first few waves were easily mown down or beaten back, but with each wave, the advance grew closer.

Our trench was still intact, as was most of our company, and our section still remained together. We sat there, ten of us stretched out in a row; our uniforms ripped, our hands bloody and our weapons red hot. It came in useful, a hot weapon. One of our newbies got a gash on his leg from shrapnel, the hot barrel of his rifle sealed the wound up. It seems barbaric, but being a soldier does that to you.

The enemy crashed upon us again. The lines getting smashed with each wave. Strike fighters and helicopters attacking from above, and the masses of Mian soldiers coming in from the ground. As the enemy grew closer we opened fire again. We shot like madmen, support guns hammering relentlessly to either side of us. Suddenly, there was a collective scream from one end of the trench. A shell had scored a direct hit. Half the comapny had been reduced to a bloody mix of human bits. We withdrew to the second layer of trenches and the reinforcements started to come up. Colonial soldiers, many of them had been pressed into service. They were no more than cannon fodder.

As the day went on, both sides smashed against each other. Neither side gaining any ground. As morning tured to a blazing afternoon the enemy came, this time, with tanks. Anti-tank guns fired incesently, shoulder missiles flew through the air. We crouched in fear as one tank drew closer, emerging from the trees like a phantom in the flames. I fumbled around for a grenade as the others crouced down. In a split second, a flame shot up from the tank and its turret flew into the air. I watched in amazement, and put my grenade back into my webbing. The next second, however, smoke filled the trench, and enemy infantry with huge bayonets jumped into the trench. I cocked my MPi and loosed a couple of bursts. A man infront of me crumpled over. Acrid smoke filled our trench and soon came the voice of Major Brandt: " Retreat! By Companies, Retreeaat!!" We ran from our trench to the third and final layer of defences. Where we would sit for the rest of the day.

Night fell and the artillery continued, seemingly unstoppable. The days may have been hot, but the night was cold. We took our sweaters from our kit bags, but our IC shook his head. "Lads," he said, calm as ever. "You won't be needing those, your gonna be warm soon enough. Codeword 'Zeus' has been given out." We knew what that meant. A massive counter attack was to begin. And it was now or never. We sat in the trench for what seemed an eternity, then at Ten on the dot, blue flares went up all along the line. Artillery opened up, clearing the ground infront of us. The tanks went in first. Then the infantry. Half way across no man's land, all hell was let loose. Bullets whined every where. We ran for our lives. Sweat poured from me, my pack straps cutting into my shoulders, it was like nothing I'd seen before.

When we reached their trenches, it got worse. We jumped down, some of us were met with a bayonet, others with a bullet, but losses were terrible. The attack was repeated 3 more times, by the end of it, we had lost over half of our men and the tanks were down to about a third of their strength. All we had managed to do was retake our first line of trenches. God knows what the casualties were like on the Mian side, but if they were anything like ours, it was going to be one hell of a bloody war.

Back in his bunker, Colonel Himms paced up and down. The defence had failed, the counter attack had failed. In fact, all the counter attack had done was make up for the failed defensive. He looked at the display again. He had lost more than half of his forces and reinforcements from thPeace for Men were at least a day away and those from Strathy were at least two days away. Himms studied the island scrupiously, he had moved 3 more colonail battalions up to the line, but he couldn't hold out much longer. The Air Group was down to half strength and had been going all day, the navy were at the other end of the island keeping the harbour clear. What worried Himms was that for 15 miles behind the lines, the island was wider, retreating would be just as foolish as holding their ground. He needed help, and fast.

by **Peace for men** » Mon May 30, 2011 2:13 am

"Raptor 1 this is Raptor 3 how copy?" The Red Air force cargo jets moved through the air with a steady hum of engines. "This is Raptor 3 I copy you loud and clear good buddy." The six jets that formed the main transport capcity of the Air wing all continued through the night sky scanning the air in front of them for any sign of hostile contact. The planes had passed over the steadily steaming first wave fleet just a few hours ago and then RVed with a Flying Cow as the men had comically nicknamed the huge air refueling planes this plan relied so heavily on.

Behind the pilots in their cockpits Private Vasily Keek stared around at the members of company who all sat crammed inside the planes cargo bay. "How long till we jump?" Vasily heard someone yell into his ear. "Ten minutes!" He shouted back over the drone of the aircraft engines directly outside his window. The man nodded and slid back into seat. "Damned wars. HEY! Did you hear the Hopkinton wars over? We've set up a DMZ with some other guys to stop it happening again. I mean thats messed up man." Vasily looked at the man then recognized Private Lancer of third platoon. "You know Lancer if we hadn't seen the destruction that region got from the Mahaj and that I would probably agree with you on it being messed up. But let's focus on the here and now if you please." The two men laughed as the planes continued through the nights sky. Then the near darkness of the planes interior changed. "RED LIGHT!" Came the cry of the officers and all the men stood up and hooked up. It was then the sounds changed.

"THIS IS RAPTOR WE HAVE COME UNDER ENEMY AIR ATTACK! WHERE'S OUR COVER FIGHTERS GOOD DAMMIT!" The sky began to flash as the enemy jet fighters came into view. "Copy that Raptor keep your birches planted." The fighter jets that acted as escort to the Paratroop planes quickly swung in from above opening fire on the enemy fighters just as the planes consoles began to beep and the soft female voice came out, "Greenlight recommended. Over DZ." The pilots both looked at eachother in Raptor 1 and flicked the switch the five other planes following suit.

"GO!GO!GO!" The officers shouted and soon Vasily and Lancer were running full pelt down the plane as the side doors and rear hatches opened to allow the men out. "See you on the flip side." Lancer shouted to Vasily as they both flew out the back of their plane their HALO chutes holding in until they would automatically deploy at the correct height. For other para's it was different having launched from the side doors their chutes would've run off the static line system deploying their chutes just as they'd cleared the danger zone around the plane. But no matter how it was done a total of two thousand paratroopers now slowly descended from the sky into the Strathian side of Hellena alongside a hundred and fifty tanks.

A litte later

Vasily struggled to free his chute from the tree, "Vasily you do remember your boot knife correct?" The squad slowly filed into the clearing forming into defensive positions. "Fuck you sarge." Vasily said as he pointed at the tree trunk below him the handle of the knife protuding from it. "Cut straight through my boot on impact." Vasily explained as Sergeant Lien chucked it up to him and Vasily cut himself free hitting the ground hard before standing up and shaking himself. "Stop or i'll shoot!" The men all turned their rifles at the voice. The Hellena colonial put his hands up in surrender seeing ten heavily armed men pointing guns at him. "Sorry old chap." Lien began, "Our generals thought it would be better if we kept it a surprise us lot turning up a day ahead of the main force but we felt you could use the help." The colonial nodded a bit at this then cowered again as more voices began to speak in the forest around him. "Okay all Easy Company units move to the RV point. I'm going to radio Strathian command and have them arrange some sort of guide to the front for us from there. Though i doubt they won't have figured we're here already." Lien grinned as the tones of Colonel Mas filled the air followed by the roar of several motor cycles and the crunch of a tank being brought out of a tree. "third Squad move out." Lien shouted taking the colonial under his arm and walking him with his squad talking to him in the native tounge. "Bloody good briefing for the Sarge wasn't it?" Vasily asked another member of his squad.

Radio Message to Strathian command on Hellena
From Peace for Men 1st Parachute detachment

We have landed on your side of Hellena and are currently moving to our RV point at gird ref 20210. All parts of detachment thought to be there by 0800 hours this coming morning. Request possible transportation to a location we will be needed in. Also have Sit rep on position of fleet and arrival times.

Colonel Mas out.

by **Strathy** » Mon May 30, 2011 4:11 am

The remains of the bunker were in ruins. The staff ran back and forth, scraping together papers and maps, burning plans, packing things into lorries. The continued shelling had left the Colonel's bunker wrecked. Anything above ground level was reduced to rubble and everything below ground level was getting there. The front line had sustained considereable damage during the night and the reserves were drying up. Strathan reinforcements were still twenty hours away and god knew where the troops from Peace for Men were going to show up. Ten hours was estimated, but it would be too late by then. The Colonel took a swig from his hip flask; in his condition, Whisky could not be good, but he didn't care. He had recieved a shrapnel wound during the shelling and now had an eye patch to porve it. He called for his aide and began pouring over maps. He bagan moving divisions in his head, divisions he no longer had. Enitre batallions had been reduced to company strenght, the entire tank division was down to just fifty tanks and his air force no longer existed. Reports were coming in, battalions were being smashed every hour and ammunition was a problem. They had plenty of it, oh yes, warehouses full of the stuff. The real issue was getting it to the line. The logistics group on the island had lost fourty seven trucks in one night.

Colonel Himms collapsed into his seat. It was the first time anyone had seen him so tiered and deflated. He looked to his aide, "Well, Lieutenant, looks like we're in the shit." The young officer looked at the Colonel; the strongest man in the army was at his wits end. Himms, in turn, surveyed the lieutenant, he was no more than 18 years old, but 24 hours on the front line had turned him into an old man. The room was silent but for the rumbling of artillery in the background. The silience was broken abruptly by a private signaller. "Sir, PfM forces have arrived. Two thousand paratroops landed last night! Scared the shit out of the colonial reserve. They are requesting transportation to the front line!"
Suddenly, the Colonel was on his feet. He checked reports and strength quotas from the Logisitcs group. "Right, Private, get onto logs, tell them I want everything that moves to get these paras, I want them here in two hours got it?"
"Yes Sir!"

Himms mulled it over, 2000 light infantry could hold the line until the rest of PfM's forces arrived, then with the Strathan forces he might be able to save this war. He turned to his aide: "Right, lad, I am gonna need the front line tidied up. Get the engineers out there. We've got ourselves a quite spell, let's get the trenches and dug outs back in order." As the lieutenant left the room, Himms smiled to himself. This might just work.

by **Peace for men** » Mon May 30, 2011 8:11 am

"GET ON THOSE TRUCKS NOW!" Mas was nearly throwing men onto the trucks as the tanks rolled out from the RV point with men crammed onto every surface immangeable. The trucks followed close behind with some men moving on their motorcycles next to them in convoy down the road as they moved Mas picked up the radio and talked quickly with General Spyrik back with the task forces first wave of 200,000 men and tanks. "Yes sir understood." Mas finished the communicating with Spyrik and looked out across the horizon. "Radio op get me Himms (is that right??)." The radio operator nodded acknowledgement at his commanders order then connected the radio to his allied commander, "Connected sir." The radio operator said then, "Colonel Mas for Colonel Himms wait one." Mas stepped down into the truck bed grabbing the rail as it ran over a bump in the road, "Himms? Yes this is Mas our task force is three hours out they'll be arriving shortly but we have advanced helicopter support moving in now Cobra's and Mi's will be moving in to show these bastards the true meaning of war. Good we'll be at the front in about an hour and a half although our tank group might be there ahead of us by an hour look after my men colonel!" Mas handed back the radio to his operator and then looked back to the horizon.

The tanks rolled down the hill towards the front line stopping by the Strathian command structre. Captain Ford stuck his head out of his tank his Spetsnaz tabs showing on his shoulders as he walked over to Colonel Himms giving a quick salute, "Spetsnaz Armoured detachment at your disposal colonel. Where do you want us?" He looked out towards the front the artillery shells landing and the large explosions that filled the air not showing any sort of impact on the mans nerves. "I must say this place looks more like hell than the war i just left." Ford said smiling at the colonel as he opened up his shirt pocket and lighting a cigarette.

by **Strathy** » Mon May 30, 2011 11:41 am

Colonel Himms stared in amazement at the sixty tonnes of Peace for Men engineering infront of him. It was a miracle. Himms looked up to the Captain whose Spetsnaz tabs stood out on his lapels. Tanks had arrived, Spetsnaz tanks! Colonel Himms took Captain Ford into the remains of his bunker. As they decended the stairs to the lower floors, Himms could see the Ford was visibly shaken; rubble, papers and bodies were scattered around the floor like the toys in a child's bedroom. "Guess you guys got hit pretty hard, huh?" The Colonel did not reply. When they reached the bottom floor, Himms showed the Captain to the command room.

A map was stuck to the wall with flags pinned to it, the realtime display had failed during a heavy bombing in the early hours of the morning. Himms took his swagger stick and pointed to the front line on the map: "As you can see, we have, more or less, held the line. We have managed to keep the enemy back so far, but we have a feeling something big is going to happen, our last recon plane got some images of troop transports here, here and here." Himms tapped the map in several locations. "We also have reports of fleet build ups along both coasts. Bear in mind this was three hours ago, we don't know what the Mians have done with them now."
The Captain seemed puzzeled. "Couldn't you send the plane up again?"
The Colonel shook his head slowly. "No can do. All of our recon planes have been shot down, the air group here is practically non existant. We've been trying to get carrier support, but it's no use, the blockade around the island is too heavy" The Colonel turned back to the map, and pointed his swagger stick at a point to the northern edge of the line. "The line is weakest here," he said in his usual flat tone. "We took heavy losses on this part of the line, your tanks will help make this up. We can also expect any naval attacks here, so dig yourselves in good." The Colonel looked to the Captain, remembering his own days in Spetsnaz. The lung wound had ended that. The Colonel handed maps and movement passes to the Captain. "Good luck, Ford"
"Thank you, sir."
They exchanged salutes and Ford ran up the stairs. With the Para's only an hour away Himms' confidence took a slight boost.

Later that afternoon, Strathan High Command sent the following transmission to Hellena:

Colonel Henry Himms, we have heard of your struggles and the Strathan People salute you. Reinforcements will arrive by 0800 tomorrow. They will take the form of 23rd Tank Regiment, 23rd 42nd and 56th Red Guard Infantry Divisions and the 12th Cavalry Regiment. The 3rd Combined Fleet is attempting to break the blockade as we speak and Arial reinforcements are on their way. Due to the current Command situation, the Strathan High Command, here by promotes, with immediate effect, Colonel Henry Himms, to the rank of General, to command all forces in the Hellena area. You are also granted permission to make provisional promotions to officers in command situations. Long Live Strathy!

The reinforcements were ahead of schedual and the Combined Fleet was trying to break through. General Himms was going to hold this island, come hell or high water, the island would not fall!

by **Peace for men** » Mon May 30, 2011 6:50 pm

Fords men looked at their section of the line, "And I thought New Alexandria was a dump." One of the tankers said as his head stuck out of the hatch looking at the craters and rubble that had once been the defence's. Ford kicked the man in the side of his helmet making the man scurry back inside his tank just as the enemy bombardment started up again. "Ah war ain't it a sight." Ford said as he puffed gently on another smoke whilst the para's began to thread their way through the line finding gaps which needed filling and digging in deep to avoid the enemy shell fire. One four man team found a fox hole with a tree over it and two strathian soldiers still alive in the fox hole underneath, "I like that your going for concealment," One of the para's joked, "But do you feel its a bit much?" The men's laughter quickly stopped though as several shells impacted nearby and the men dived into the nearest cover they could get. "Blooming sissy's!" Came the yell of leuitenet Jonk of the tank crews as he passed water canteens up into the tanks and the slightly boiled crew men inside. "Just like home 'cept it ain't got the nice jungles." One man said to his comrade as he took a break during his digging. "And no long winters." His friend commented back and the two soon began to dig in again.

After another hour the main bulk of the paratroopers arrived at the same point and began to join in with reinforcing the line. Several of the men carried with them heavier entrenching equipment like barbed wire and several AP mines which they placed in defensive chokepoints and stratergic points around the DP (Defence Point). But back at the command bunker colonel Mas was climbing out of the back of his truck with his radio operator just before it drove off with the last remains of the para's for the front. The Colonel gave a quick salute then mildly smiled at the man in front of him. Not having known the now General Himms personal it was odd for the Paratrooper to meet someone who had made a reputation for themselves amongst Spetsnaz which even PFM children talked about them as a legend. "General, Sir. Colonel Mas reporting to help kick some arse and take some names, sir. Also honoured to be fighting on the same patch of hell as the Great Himms sir heard lots about you during my earlier Spetsnaz days."

by **Strathy** » Wed Jun 01, 2011 3:59 am

General Himms gave Colonel Mas the same briefing as he did Captain Ford, outlining all the weak spots in the defences and his beliefs that this quiet spell would soon errupt into all out massacre. After going over the situation for every inch of the front line, Mas looked stunned. The causalties were imence, the damage huge. "In the name of god, sir, how the hell did you hold out so long?"
The General mulled this question over; "I honestly don't know. Unless the Mian's are messing with us, then I have no idea." He took two glasses from a collapsing cabinet and dropped ice cubes into each. "Whisky, Colonel?" Mas nodded his approval and took the glass.
They sat in silence for a while, staring at the map of the front line. Colonel Mas broke the silence: "Well sir, what do you want these men to do?"
Himms took out a red pencil and began indicated areas that needed held, areas that needed troops desperately and areas where the enemy was breaking through. Himms turned to the Colonel. "Now, I have split the tank group up to hold these areas in the north, by the coast." Himms made yet another red circle on the map. "Now I realise you only have two thousand light infantry here, but if you can hold out for about a day, we'll get more men to the line. I got word from Strathan Command, they are about to try and break the blockade around the island. Vice Admiral Hart has been brought in with a combined fleet. Once we have broken the blockade, we'll get more men in."
Colonel Mas looked at the red cirlces all over the map, his men would be spread across various parts of the front, but they were the best, he was sure they'd hold out for reinforcements. Mas looked up from the map, "General Himms, sir, my men will fight to the death to hold this line." He stood up and saluted.
Himms saluted back. "I suggest you go and brief your men. Good luck, Colonel."
As Mas left the bunker, Himms looked over his map again, Hart's ships would have a hell of fight to get through than, then again, he wasn't called "Hellfire Hart" for nothing. Still, if he didn't make it, there would be no way of getting substantial reinforcements in. Sure, air drops worked, but you couldn't get the same number of men and machines in. A lot rested on the navy, and the army was clinging to the line by it's finger nails. The Peace for Men forces were briefed, the line was intact, all that remained was for the Mian forces to make thier next move.

by **Peace for men** » Wed Jun 01, 2011 11:47 am

Mas caught a lift on an airborne jeep that had come back from the line and was soon speeding off to his detachments assembly area. "Okay Alpha and Charlie companies I want over here. Bravo and Delta here and fox and Easy here. The rest of the men will be in reserve and the men with Ford will remain there but the tanks are to go on stand by with the reserves to be called up if we get a heavy armoured push on any of our areas of if Himms calls them in. Understand?" Mas looked at the Company Captains in front of him, "Understand?" The captains nodded took one last look at the map case with their companies letters marked at the Co-ordinates that they were to goto and then all saluted Mas wished him luck and then moved off to get their men mobile.

Lancer looked at the strech of the defensives his company had been sent to and sighed as he saw the massive crater which dominated the site. "It'll be like Passchendeale if it rains heavy with these craters and the soft ground." Vasily walked upto Lancer and passed him a chocolate bar. The two men bit into the bars at the same time as they watched their fellows joining Strathian forces in bunkers and trench remains. "Well better hope it doesn't rain and that we don't get forced back. I'll take a hundred lashes before I retreat willing." Lancer muttered as he lifted his helmet from his head stroking the stubble which had once been his hair. Vasily looked at him, "South Hopkinton changed you too much old friend. I better get back my Mortar section we get that bloody crater. Catch you later maybe mate?" Lancer nodded and the two parted ways heading back to their own units Vasily picking up a box of ammuniton as he went. As the two old friends settled into their accomdations 1000 men of the detachment followed suit across the line waiting for the relief of knowing that reinforcements had arrived. Lancer settled down for a little nap whilst Vasily and his fellow mortar crewmen began to drop rounds down their tubes to get a sighting down on possible enemy cover positions if an attack came. "War is hell." Vasily said as they poured water onto the warming tubes.

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

Out to sea Spyrik sat on board the bridge of the battleship Kamion looking at the holographic display in front of him showing the disposition of his fleet and the enemy blockade that surrounded the island. "Sir. Strathian Naval forces have been sighted in area. Recommendation from home command is we hook up with them and try to break through the blockade and secure a clear path to the port for following waves." The young naval aide looked up at Spyrik from his console his headphones moved so one ear could hear Spyriks reponse. "Send a message to the Strathian naval task force. Ask them nicely if we can join up with them and attempt to make a tunnel to funnel our forces through and onto the mainland." The young man nodded and set to work.

"To: Strathian Naval commander
From: Red Army Task Force Knight

Enemy blockade around island. Request redenvous with your fleet to attmept to force our way through into the islands port and to secure a channel to move our following waves of reinforcements and supplies through. What say you?"

by **The Master M** » Wed Jun 01, 2011 6:00 pm

“We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go
Always a little further: it may be
Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow
Across that angry or that glimmering sea ... ”

IN FORTUDINE VICTORIA

For the last four hours, the Most Serene Republic of the Master M has been engaging in open conflict with the Communist People's Republic of Strathy; naturally this is not necessary, but I do like things to be official. Communism represents the opposite to everything that Most Serene Republic is founded upon, and must be viewed as a thing both dangerous and unworthy of life. Without any other pretext, the fact that the Communist People's Republic is, as it's name suggests, communist leaves it as an entity not to be trusted to any degree. Coupling this with the stand off on the island of Hellena, we have no choice but to take action.

Therefore, from this moment, the Most Serene Republic declares unrestricted and total war against the Communist People's Republic of Strathy, which shall not be brought to a close until either party ceases to exist in any official capacity. Your armies, naval and civilian shipping, military and civilian aircraft, cities, assets and citizens are hereby declared legitimate targets for any and all Mian military strikes.

Make no mistake, we will level every city in your nation, salt your fields, strip mine your countryside, enslave your populace and eradicate the very name of Strathy from existence. The strong must weed out the weak, and your time is up. Do not despair completely, however, unworthy ones, because salvation can be yours. Merely cede to our terms unconditionally and you can survive relatively intact.

Your nation will surrender unconditionally and to immediate effect.
Your alliance, the Confederacy of Communist Nations, will surrender and disband unconditionally and to immediate effect.
Your armies, navy and airforce shall be disbanded unconditionally and to immediate effect.
All weapons of mass destruction in your nation's possession will be handed over to either the Most Serene Republic or one of her allies unconditionally and to immediate effect.
Your nation will submit to being governed by an Mian appointed government for a period of no shorter than five years, after which time a review will be made of the situation.
All assets belonging to your nation will become the sovereign property of the Most Serene Republic.
All members of your alliance will, under penalty of destruction, agree to disband to such a degree that they are no longer capable of pitifully attempting to extend what little influence they have over the international community.
All members of your alliance will submit to the authority of the glorious nations of the Brimstone Pact.

Failure to agree to the above in full and immediately will result in your destruction. If you choose to reject our generous and fair terms, then prepare yourself, for you shall truly learn what pain and devastation mean.

From the Desk of his Most Serene Majesty the King,
Gaius Vastera III

***

Maybury calmly placed three cubes of sugar into his metal mug, which was steaming with freshly brewed tea. Downing the scalding mixture in one, he rose, wiping a few specks of dust from his otherwise immaculate uniform. “Sir,” began Heyes, his right arm in a bloodied sling, “the survivors of the Forlorn have returned.”

An interesting side-note on (at least a small part of) the AMSR; when an enlisted member of the military commits a crime, or an act that is deemed against the code of honour, they are placed in one of the eleven military prisons dotted around the Most Serene Republic (incidentally, these are the only true prisons to be found in the country.) Whatever the crime may be, they are all sentenced to the same, which is one year imprisonment, at the end of which one of two things happen: the prisoner may join an outfit known as “the Forlorn”, or they will be forced into what amounts to slavery (as what happens to every civilisation criminal in the MSR). Naturally, almost all choose to join the Forlorn, despite the low survival rate. This outfit is primarily used in extremely high risk situations, such as in the first wave of an attack or in assaulting heavily defended locations. Those who survive are re-instated to their previous position, and many are highly decorated. Some non-criminal, aspiring young officers apply to lead sections of the Forlorn, because if they manage to come back alive it is usually to great renown and instant promotion. Anyhow, back to more pressing matters.

“How many Lieutenant?”

“Out of the seven thousand that went boldly forward, little over three hundred remain. I have here,” he said, fishing in one of his numerous pockets, “a list of all those that are up for citation or promotion.”

“I trust you will deal with it accordingly?”

“I already have sir, all in your name of course,” said the injured man, a slight smile of pride spreading over his blood encrusted face, “however, for the six thousand dead?”

“They did their duty, and redeemed themselves in the end. Still, that is a much higher casualty rate than we expected.”

“Of course sir, we didn't exactly expect them to counter-attack with the zeal that they did. Let's see how they face against the army lads then eh?” Heyes could hear the occasional dull thud of missiles striking the ground above the command post; the viewing platform where the Mian commanders had observed the start of the battle was long since destroyed, much to the annoyance of Maybury.

“It's almost dusk; inform General Harker that his corps will engage the enemy at twenty-two hundred hours. Have the spooks do their work in the meantime; Contingency Charlie should do it, I think? Operation Blowtorch I do believe they called it.” Maybury straightened his collar, threw on his cloak and made for the exit, stepping over several injured men on the way. Heyes followed, playing around with the piece of shrapnel that had almost completely severed his arm only an hour earlier. “One more scar, one more story,” he smiled quietly to himself, before stepping out into the dusk. His eyes looked over the fire-storm that ravaged the island with no feeling greater than indifference; it was a tableau he had witnessed many, many times. It was going to be a long night...

***

Across the island, thousands of eyes watched thousands of timepieces, and for each the aeon-like wait for ten o'clock passed in a different way. The artillery barrage never ceased; nay, it intensified as the evening wore on. The gunners who had survived the day's fighting served their guns with a fury that belayed the simple maxim that all gunners held dear: the more we kill, the less of our lads they kill. Being fed targets from the AWACS above, they launched shell after shell into the front lines, many of them wounded or exhausted from the fighting they had so far faced. The occasional missile flew overhead as well, but most of the Mian ships were by now ninety kilometres north of the island, moving to intercept two large naval forces that a recon patrol had stumbled across a few hours earlier. The Achilles had already launched six flights; three flights of four Tempests, and three flights of five Sentinels. The twenty seven aircraft would attempt to intercept any aircraft coming towards the carrier or her escorts, and the Sentinels would each fire off their two AGM-84D Harpoon sea skimming missiles as soon as they got within two hundred and twenty kilometres of the offending fleet. Many of the escorts had already fired off a salvo of long range sea skimming missiles, forty two in all, to harass the enemy vanguard.

Elsewhere, a single Akula-IV class nuclear submarine was slowly nearing it's destination, and it's captain prepared to become a bringer of death to hundreds of thousands...

***

The plan was simple, the men well trained, well lead, well equipped and experienced in combat. At twenty minutes to ten (2140) the MSAF II Squadron (Tempests) stationed on Hellena began actively engaging enemy helicopters, both in the air and on the ground. Two dozen A-20a Renegades, flying in pairs, stepped up their attack runs on the front line, paying special attention to the apparently fresh troops that were plugging gaps in the defences. Other aircraft were on station, occasionally dropping ordinance on targets called in by FACs in the Mian line. In an interesting turn, the artillery barrage had died down slightly, because a lucky Strathian shell had somehow pierced the main ammunition dump that served the pieces. The explosion that followed killed dozens outright, and detonated at least two thirds of the much need ammunition. Hoping to make up for this much needed lifeline, the army's self-propelled artillery vehicles, the 'Mastiff', were firing their small, one-zero-five shells at as fast as possible.

With five minutes to go, a massive bombardment of targeted sections of the Strathian line began, the main barrage coming from the many AH-79C Anacondas that were on station, around two dozen for each main armoured spearhead. Focussing mainly on hard targets, they would provide the frontline troops a hellish amount of firepower, greatly reducing the strain on the already stretched artillery.

Aerial domination long complete, the MSAF enjoyed free reign of the skies, which allowed Commander Maybury the ability to play another ace; the battle-hardened XXXV Airborne Division. The plan was to drop six thousand of these elite paratroopers twenty kilometres behind the front line just as the main attacks were launched, at six sites (one thousand for each). Once on the ground, these men and women would harass the enemy reserves, and attempt to secure pre-designated objectives until the main armoured thrusts could reach them. It would be a bloody fight...

***

Delta Company, G Squadron, XXXV Airborne Division
25,000ft above Hellena
2145

“Three minutes! Final checks! Stand!”

The sixty men inside the C-130J 'Super Hercules' rose, holding on to the overhead guide rail to steady themselves. Furiously checking their equipment and finding it satisfactory, each paratrooper turn to his rear, and began checking that of the man he was now facing. This done, they turned again, and again checked the man in front of him. In this way the equipment of each man was checked three times, and by three different people. As expected, all was found to be satisfactory, and they were ready,

“Thirty seconds! Wait for it...go, go, go!”

One after the other, sixty black shapes cut leaped from the aircraft, hurtling towards the ground at terminal velocity. At two and a half thousand feet their parachutes automatically deployed, allowing them to float gently downwards. The Company's captain was the first to reach the ground. After releasing his parachute, he scanned the surrounding woodland with the aid of his night glasses, and then with his thermal vision goggles. Through his otherwise blue lenses, dozens of glowing orange shapes could be seen descending towards the ground near his position. As the first of his company began filtering into the clearing he occupied, the captain became aware of a noise above that of the constant report of distant artillery fire, that of nearby sporadic automatic fire.

The Captain waited in the clearing with two of his lieutenants, the thirty-odd men who had managed to link up in the short time they had spent on the ground held the perimeter. At five minutes to ten, the Captain could wait no longer; the forty eight men who had made it to the rendezvous point would have to suffice. The twelve others, those of them that weren't dead or captured, would have to link up with them later.

“Okay guys,” he whispered into his throat mike, “you know your orders. Victor Formation. Good luck.”

Separated into three sections of sixteen (they would normally have numbered 15 in four sections, but the miss-drop had forced the slightly larger groups) they went in separate directions, the Captain's group heading to a small road nearby. When the chaos began they would attempt to ambush reserve troops heading up to the front line, like many of their compatriots across the island. Chaos was their game, and they played it well.

***

Hellena Command
2155

The time had come. The battle would begin. Commander Maybury cast his eyes over the display, which showed the four huge Mian divisions in their final forming up points. The artillery batteries were firing with vehement fury, burning through the last of their ammunition in an effort to soften up the already battered defences. “Are we ready?”

Heyes looked up, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “I do believe so, sir. The order is yours.”

“Pass me that microphone,” he gestured to a nearby technician. Switching it on, he addressed all of the troops under his command. “Men, the time is upon us. The enemy is battered, under constant attack and weary. You are the fearless and feared soldiers of the Most Serene Republic, veterans of a thousand battles, the scum of the earth, and there are no finer soldiers on either side of the gates of hell! I am proud to call you my brothers! Go forward and purge the evil that is communism from my island! Good luck men!”

Maybury accepted a cigarette from Heyes, before settling down again to watch the display. “Tell me Lieutenant, how long do you think this will take?”

“It depends sir. Have you heard the reports of paratrooper reinforcements?”

The Commander pondered for a moment, the thin grey smoke surrounding his pale face. “Inconsequential. What can a handful of light infantry do in the face of a well equipped, well supported armoured thrust? The question you should be asking is 'What will happen when their reinforcement fleets break through our ships?'.”

“You find it likely? Vice Admiral West always struck me as the kind of chap who would fight till the end.”

“Well not this time; he, like us, has strict orders. Do you really think that the top brass would have send so few ships to this bloody-awful spit of rock if they had any intention of holding it from the off?”

Heyes, for only the third time in the twenty-five years that he had known Maybury, looked genuinely surprised. “You mean they-”

“Yes, at least for now. In three days the vanguard of the Fourteenth Naval Taskforce, under Admiral Wellington, will be within maximum strike range of the island. The day after that,” he continued, stubbing out the remains of the cigarette, “the Second Navy will be within striking distance of the Strathian homeland.”

“The Second...that's Wild Bill eh?”

“Indeed, although I think he goes by Supreme Admiral Sir William Hall these days. Anyway, I think it's about time to begin.” Maybury smiled,

Seconds later, the first tanks began rolling towards the enemy positions, and the attack helicopters began targeting anything that moved. The first wave of men, nearly twelve thousand in all, were advancing to an enemy that wouldn't know what was falling from the skies to hit them.

***

The cold, empty expanse that was space contrasted beautifully with the emerald, shimmering planet that the lifeless satellite orbited. An unimaginable amount of satellites, spacecraft, and for the most part, debris, filled the space around the dazzling sphere below, but somehow an eternity of openness remained. As satellite KB112, and seven of it's sisters, powered up its thrusters slightly, sending it out of its orbit, it began preparing to make geosynchronous orbit over the island. Noiselessly it darted forward, before firing up its thrusters once again to bring it to a halt. Unthinking, it waited, its sole purpose – and the nine hundred million Steryl that it cost to get it this far – about to be fulfilled at last. Upon closer inspection, twelve twenty foot tungsten rods, about a foot in diameter, were clamped tightly into twelve docking clamps stationed around the edge of KB112. Small rockets, large enough to provide a mere twenty second long burst of propulsion, were stationed atop these giant rods, and, one by one, they were readying to fire.

As the unseen stream of encrypted code was transmitted from the planet below, untold billions of people went about their daily business, many unknowing of the satellite or its purpose. It was in fact Kinetic Bombardment Delivery Device one-one-two, and the final firing order finished transmitting from deep within the Master M, causing the satellite to finish locking onto it’s targets; the defensive line in front of each armoured spearhead. As the final targeting code was processed, the clamp holding the first rod disengaged, and the rocket booster engaged, burning out it’s fuel after one short, furious burst. Within thirty seconds, the rod was breaching the stratosphere, at a speed of forty two thousand feet per second. A mere minute after the initial release, the rod slammed into the earth, causing untold devastation with the kinetic force equal to a third of a kiloton. Just as the rod hit, another was released in orbit...

At around the same time, several dozen BDF101 “Suicide” Satellites began actively seeking out any satellites operating on frequencies recognised to belong to the Strathian military, and began moving towards their prey.

by **Peace for men** » Thu Jun 02, 2011 4:23 am

"Eagle one have you got eyes on those RADAR bleeps to the fleets south?"
"Copy Raptor three I've got them possible hostile fleet?"
"Capone Actual thinks so, Raptor. Eagle's one through to five are being sent to investigate you boys coming?"
"Haha, Copy that Eagle Raptor five and six will come along why not eh?"

Just a short moment after their breif communication the seven air patrols joined up to move towards the RADAR bleeps that showed fast moving aircraft and possible slow moving ships. The seventy or so F-35/A's moved across the ocean scene at speed armed with Air-to-Air, Air-to-Sea missiles. As the bleeps began to come closer the fighter pilots relised that Spyrik had been correct in his prediction and the sight of the enemy fleet brought a wave of shock across several of the mens faces but was quickly broken off as the enemy jet escorts began to open up on them, "Light them up!" Came the shout of Eagle one and soon the planes broke apart into two man teams moving to hunt and kill the enemy jets. Some teams moved to protect other pairs as they dived to just above the waterline and levelled their missiles on the ships that filled the water. Rockets flew across the sky at ships and planes. As the jets flew fast to try and intercept this fleet though news came back that the PFMSS York and Newcastle had both been hit by enemy anti-ship missiles laucnhed from long range. The pilots moved even faster to try and bring damage down on the enemy fleet.

On the main land

The night sky lit up just a few miles down the line of Lancer and his company. "Shit thats bleeding Bravo company they've just been wiped out!" The ground shook as the missile impact slowly spread out along the line. "Sir got movement in front of us looks to be Mian troops and tanks!" The officers quickly responded to the news of the tanks arrival, "The javelins and gustavs now troopers let show these bastards the true meaning of war." The designated anti-tank paratroopers quickly moved to pick up their weapons or to unsling them from behind their backs and took aim. "Lock on...FIRE!" The missiles of the javelins soared out of their tubes with great accuracy across the night sky towards the advancing enemy. Machine gun and pre-designated mortar quickly began to pump out of the airborne troops and across the line those paratroopers still standing open fired with all force that they could manage to get. Several long range air craft from the Peace for Men fleet soon came soaring in as well to open fire on the enemy helicopters that were strafing their lines.

Meanwhile back at his command post colonel Mas started to have reports filter into him, "Enemy paratroopers have dropped behind us and the enemies forcing a tank push on the front." The young aide read off the piece of paper in front of him. Mas looked at him then stroked his chin, "Radio Ford have him and two hundred of the reserves move to secure the fuel and ammo depots here and here." Mas pointed at two points on the maps which he figured would become major enemy targets in this new attack wave. "Sir." The aide acknowledged and ten minutes later Captain ford and fifty tanks and two hundred airborne infantry began moving to secure the depots that would be most vunlerable to an enemy attack arriving at the depots in under ten minutes.

by **Strathy** » Thu Jun 02, 2011 11:06 am

Suddenly the line had been turned on it's head. The Mian forces were attacking with a vengance, missiles were dropping from the skies onto the trenches, air power was now an exclusive privillege of the Mian forces and paratroopers had landed in the rear of the lines. General Himms tored through his bunker and to the map room, or what remained of it. The real time display showed Strathan and PfM forces fighting along the front line, it showed the Mian troops slaughtering the defenders and it showed all confirmed and suspected positions of Mian forces behind the lines. Himms turned to his Naval envoy from the Commodore. Lieutenant Thomson had a bandage over one eye, he had been on board when the SPS Jade was hit by rockets. "Thomson, what is the status on the water? More importantly, tell me about those reinforcements."
The young officer looked half dead, but he produced a hand held computer displaying a naval map of the area. "Sir, only 1 cruiser and 2 destroyers remain in the harbour. Vice-Admiral Hart has begun his break through, reinforcements are expected to start arriving soon. Perhaps three hours till they land, another two to reach here." Thomson explained the situation to Himms. The General nodded and looked to his newly appointed 2nd In Command, Provisional Colonel Dyson of the 121st Rifles. "Colonel, can the men hold this one out?"
Dyson shook his head.
"Okay," Himms continued, "what strength do the enemy paratroopers have?"
Dyson opened a blue folder and pulled out a charred report sheet. "Well sir, reports have trickled in from various sections of the line with rough ammounts. A couple of our reserve lads captured some of them and we got small snippets of info, not much sir. We can however estimate that the number of paratroops is between six and seven thousand, sir."
Himms took sometime to digest the information: "It would appear, if we try to hold out, the enemy advance will get us, and we will be surrounded. If we try to break through the paratroopers, losses would be high. However, it would seem our only way out is to try and break through the paratroops. They are light infantry. So far, we have ten thousand men still on the line. If we break through, we could take refuge across the Jabo river in the forest. What's it to be?"
The decision was almost unanimous, break through the paratroopers lines, cross the river, hold the forest and blow the bridges. Simple enough, but losses would be huge; the men were tired, wounded, low on ammo and in desperate need of food, water and medical supplies.

The order was passed along the lines quickly and at 2200 hours the plan was enacted. Those who were too wounded to move would take the defence, man the artillery and make it look like the defenders were still on the line. The force moved out quickly, tanks taking the lead. Soon the first shots were heard, the tanks rolled straight into the surprised enemy troops and they were closely followed by the infantry. Once the paratroops had realised what was going on they fought back furiously. General Himms watched from his armoured car in the rear of the advance as men fell in their dash to the enemy. They may have been tired, but they knew this was their only chance.
The losses mounted, men ran forward with pistols and grenades, having lost their rifles long ago, it was all out butchery. Tanks ran over paratroopers, sprayed them with MG fire and shells, only to see more paras rush at them. As the tanks advanced, some of them fell into holes, others were swarmed by paras pushing grenades into the hatches, some went over mines. It was carnage.
The push went on and on. The enemy would surly realise that the denfeces were all but abandoned and push on. General Himms opened his window, loaded his Mpi and ordered the care forward, firing burst after well aimed burst. The MG man hammered away. Spurred on by the General, the men rushed on again, trying to push the enemy back. The result was inevitable. The paratroopers had been sent to stem supplies, not hold off an all out invasion. As one small group got one break through, so did the others. Bit by bit the wriggled their way through. With the Mian attackers and paratroops at their heels, the remaining men rushed to the bridges and into the forest. The last men got over and the tanks sent the bridges down into the fast flowing Jabo river.
General Himms had sent out ten thousand men to break through, he now had less then three thousand. They were in a better densive position, a forest with a river and no bridges seperating them from the enemy, but how long could it last?

On the bridge of the SPS Dremic, Vice-Admiral Hart looked over the flight deck of his flag ship and out to sea, just beyond the horizon lay the enemy fleet. An officer dressed in his service white came up to Hart, "Sir, we have the recon report, the blockade seems to be stretched thin".
Hart smiled and turned to the officer. "Thank you Captain, sound general quarters, tell all long range ship to ship missiles to began attacking targets and lauch cmobat air partol."
"Yes, sir!" saluted and walked across to the command section of the bridge and began issuing orders.
Soon missile flew from frigates and cruisers, SAF NASF 122 Hell Fires laucnhed from all three of the carriers. Battleships began to move in and below the depths submarines began to slink towards the enemy fleet.
"Sir!" The Cpatain cried. "They are moving to engage!"
Admiral Hart nodded. "Excelent, tell Commodore Freisburg to move his convoy in now." As the cpatain began issuing more orders, Hart thought the plan over again. It was simple enough: Get the combined fleet to create a big noise near the coast and draw their fleet out, send submarines out to clear a path for the transports and then send transports in with destroyer and frigate escorts to land the troops.
As the fleet moved in and the blockade moved to meet them, the first contact reports started coming in from the subs. Soon the transports would land the troops and Hart could begin his mop up job.
Hart sat back in his chair and spoke on the Comm system to the bridges of all the ships. "Gentlemen, move in and engage at will, transporters, we'll do all we can for you. Good luck lads! Lets go!" With that, the fleet began to move to attack. What happened now was up to the command skill of Hart and the individual officers.

by **Strathy** » Thu Jun 02, 2011 11:22 am

Telegram from Strathan High Command.

TO: The Most Serene Republic of The Master M
SUBJECT: Surrender

Dear Sirs,

As kind as your offer sounds, we must ask your commanders and politicians to go home, and drown themselves, thus giving them an opportuninty to clear the manure from their brains.

Yours Truly

Field Marshal Franz Dubrowsky
People's Commissar for Strathy
Chief of the Military

by **Peace for men** » Fri Jun 03, 2011 3:03 pm

Out at sea the Red Army transport crafts followe closely behind the Strathy ones praying for the best their own escort fleet having moved off further along the coast to draw enemy attentions and make it easier to attempt some form of covering exercise for the para's on shore. Privates Mak and Lee sat together inside the hold of their ship their helmets and body armour looking strange on their lean and lank bodies, "What are two Six foot four guys doing in the army eh Mak?" Lee said taking a puff on his cigarette. Mak shrugged then flattened himself against the wall as two Spetsnaz wolves walked past him. "Blood Spetsnaz men. I hear they train all the Wolves like that you know?"
"What your crazy Mak."
"No I'm being serious. All the infantry units be them marines, para's or even just basic infantry are all sent back to like basic but with a twist. The trainers are harder the tactics and all that their taught to be soldiers that are like super."
"So what your saying that because their called wolves once they get put into their rifle companies means that their trainings different to other special forces? I mean come on those two are just some Strathians who joined up to Spetsnaz. I mean their all a bit dumb right?" The two men laughed but stopped suddenly as the boot from another Spetsnaz soldier made contact with each of their heads. "Yeah and Red army privates have big mouths." The deep Southern PFM accent cut through the two mens ears as they picked each other up to see Spetsnaz Sergeant Zhu running to catch up with his comrades.

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

"Last report sir we're down to seventy tanks and eight hundred and fifty infantry. But of those only eight hundred and fifty infantry did actually withdraw and only a hundred tanks. It seems some men just wanted to give us all some time." Leuitenet Link was a weezy man and had a belly to match which raised the eyebrows of every commissar in the battlion. Mas rubbed his temples as he looked around the interior of his tent and wondered what he had done to bring such death down upon his men. "Send the reports up to Himms he should know how many men we have left with us." Link nodded saluted, which Mas returned with a quick, "Dismissed." And then turned and walked off to deliever Himms the report and possibly recieve orders for his commanders unit.

by **Strathy** » Sat Jun 04, 2011 1:31 pm

The scene along the river bank was one of chaos and destruction; dotted along the river were the ruins of the several bridges that once crossed into the thick Hellenian forest. As men dug in and put up defences amongst the trees, casualty reports came in from all sections. The numbers were huge. Entire divisions were down to company strength, the entire army group on the island was down to ten percent of its original strength. General Himms looked across the five hundred metre expanse of river before him; fast flowing and deep as hell itself, but the Mians were clever bastards, Himms knew they would cross sooner or later, one way or another.

Colonel Mas walked along the river and sat beside Himms, handing over his own report for the Peace for Men Spetsnaz group. Himms read through the figures and sat silenlty for a moment. He turned to Mas. "God help us." He said. Henry Himms was not a religious man, and Mas knew it. But the recent losses, and the sheer scale of them left Himms with nowhere to turn. Himms was somebody the men looked upto; one of the first officers in the Spetsnaz, he had joined up right at the start, he had lost his arm as a major and gone into the Strathan Army, but he'd never stopped. The man was a war hero, and to see him so low, so close to throwing in the towel, it was awful. Himms looked at the stars, their reflections glimmering on the river. They were so calm compared to everything going on. After a while he turned back to Mas. "Thank you, Colonel. I suggest you get your men to dig in, then give them some rest, they need it." The two men parted silently.

The entire line was silent. Men put up sentries, camouflaged their defences and made dinner, but it was all silent. The last thing anybody wanted was to let the enemy know where they were now. As Himms paced through the trees to his command tent, a Captain of the 23rd Red Guard approached him. There weren't any Red Guard on the island, what was this man doing here? Himms went up to the Captain and asked how he had come to be on the island. "Sir, Strathan Reinforcements are deploying on the beaches, the first few waves arrived a while ago and the rest are moving in. We have had some trouble from the blockade, but they are thinly spread and the fleet deals with most of them. I have a Red Guard Division here along with a tank brigade. Brigadier Johnson is incharge, but he is behind with the rest of the 23rd." Himms was stunned, reinforcements had finally arrived. Himms gestured the Captain to follow him into his tent.
"What's your name Captain?" Enquired Himms, pouring two glasses of his remaining Congnac.
"Captain Tony Dubrowsky." The Captain replied.
Himms sat silent; the Field Marshal's son? Surly that was not a good move on the Field Marshal's part? "Excellent, do tell me, what sort of reinforcements are arriving? I have been told to expect three infantry divisions, two tank and a calvary."
"Yes sir, those are arriving. Peace for Men are also deploying large numbers of troops and Spetsnaz has been depolyed." The Captain sipped his cognac, even during a fight to the death, Himms was still classy.
"Yes, good. Spetsnaz was already deployed, they have been here for two days now."
"No sir, not Peace for Men's," the Cpatian corrected. "The Confederacy's Spetsnaz. The Alliance is now alerted and at war."
Himms took the information in. If the Alliance's Spetsnaz had been deployed this war was getting big. It wasn't just the island, the Alliance Security Council must be expecting bigger things. "Thank you, Captain. Go deploy your men, Major Brandt of the 12th Islanders will direct you. Welcome to Hellena, Captain."
The two men exchanged salutes and Tony Dubrowsky left.

General Himms sent the word along to all the Commanders to expect reinforcements to start trickling in and that Spetsnaz had been deployed. The latter didn't matter much for numbers, but it boosted the morale of the men. They knew the alliance was involved now, they knew people cared and were going to help. Most of all, however, the name helped a lot. Spetsnaz were renowned for being the best of the best. It was said that an entire company of Strathan Marines had failed to get into the Brigade. Spetsnaz had almost single handedly fought off attacks before and their deployment and use had dramatically changed the direction of the Hopkinton War. If anything could help, it would be Spetsnaz. Himms stayed up well into the night, admiring the Spetsnaz soldiers, trickling in companies at a time. They had been dispersed amongst other troops during the landing as Spetsnaz did not actually have its own fleet, but even a few Spetsnaz troops were a huge boost to morale. What ever the Mian forces were planning on the other side of the river, they were walking into a whole new situation. Himms began to feel confident once more.

by **Peace for men** » Sat Jun 04, 2011 2:46 pm

As Red army soldiers slowly filtered into the new frontline defences taking up the points they were directed to by local officals many of the Peace for Men found themselves rubbing shoulders with Strathian forces which was something new to most of them just coming off the ships. In some of defences that were still being prepared the Red Army soldiers openly tried to be friendly to the Strathian and Colonial troops offering news from the world and other goings ons whilst they set to work helping to dig in. Whilst other units settled in and only engaged the locals if that had to but only maybe one in twenty units were like that all the men were in the same boat now and there was nothing any of them could do about it.

As Spetsnaz units were moved around by order of General Himms two squads of Spetsnaz units snuck down to Colonel Mas and the PFM Paratroopers section of the line. Sneaking through the trees the men had small grins on their faces as they snuck past the sentries and into the trenches behind the men already inside them still working away feverishly to get dug in properly. "CIgarette mate?" One of them said to a Private who jumped his shovel embedding itself deep in the mud wall. "You bloody Spetsnaz Wolves!" The Private shouted as the two squads vanished into the night again without a trace until they re-appeared at Mas's tent. The men intended to sneak in their as well but were brought up short when they heard Mas's voice from inside, "Enter and stop scaring my men you noisy wolves." Sergeant Lien opened the flap her strong female body making her stand out amongst the men of her unit. Lien was the first female soldier to pass the selection course for Spetsnaz since its foundation and was in fact a native of the country that Peace for Men had come to help. "Good evening General." She said as she stepped inside. Mas looked confused them jumped himself as General Kane sat down in the seat next to him appearing from behind him. "Colonel." She quickly said in turn to Mas. "I hate you sometimes Brother you know that?" Mas acknowledged the Sergeant and stood her at ease before turning to his brother, who's ruff features flicked in the light of the dying power of the table lamp. "Of course you do little brother but whats a man to do? One of us sevres our country the other the alliance. I'm just hear to warn you though Brother that I have ordered two squads of my wolves to cross the river here, where its narrower and a bit calmer, to conduct reconnisance and raids on the enemies rear just across the river from us." Mas nodded and said he'd warn his men. Then a noise made him turn away a second when he turned back the tent was empty of anyone. "My brother trains them too well." Mas looked behind him at his young aide who just grunted from his gagged mouth. "And he's a bit unorthodox. I wonder how he'll arrive to report for duty to Himms." Mas lent back in his chair his aide struggling against the ropes that bound him as his mind wondered to the meeting Himms would Share with his Older brother General Kane...

The river was quiet except for the occasinal splash of water as the two ten man squads placed their oars in the water as one and moved across the dark water. With the men, and woman, of the Spetsnaz Wolves Company Alpha being trained as elite recon units they always had their equipment ready. LAW anti-tank weapons, assortment of assualt rifles and small arms. At least four light machine guns, two per squad and at least two marksmen weapons, one per squad again, at the ready even before main army units had got their main trucks offloaded from their transport vehicles. THe two zodiac boats would usually have been powered by engines but due to the fact contact had been lost with the enemies last known position it was deemed safer to row across at speed than to use the noisy engines. But still after five minutes the boats were only half way across and had drifted down river a considerable amount, "Perfect." Lien said as the two boats beached on the opposite bank, "Deflate the boats and let's move." Lien ordered two of the men as they slowly removed their ammo, food, water and medical suppiles needed for the week long mission. Two if the line held in place there. After ten minutes the two squads said their farewells and broke apart heading in country to scout out for decent OP points on possible enemy advance's and be ready to report them back to HQ at a moments notice.

The silence of hunting Wolves is to be feared...

by **The Master M** » Tue Jun 14, 2011 11:32 am

“The first casualty of war is innocence.”

Day Three

MMS Gothic Fury
19 NM North-West from Strathian Territorial Waters
0345

“ETA forty seconds, repeat four-zero seconds.”

The sleek, black hull of the Akula IV class submarine glided under the waves with apparent ease. It had been travelling for ten days, and had finally reached it's target position, a mere score of nautical miles north-west of Strathy. On board, the crew quickly and silently prepared for the tactical alert that came a few seconds after the vessel came to a halt.

“Rise to launch depth.”

“Rising to one-zero-zero feet.”

The vessel silently rose to the required depth, barely disturbing the shoal of fish that had strayed near. The Gothic Fury hung in the abyss, waiting for the command that would kill countless innocent civilians. A necessary price for victory; nobody is innocent in war.

“Open launch-bay doors. One through twenty.”

“Firing controller requests strike designation.”

“Designation is November-Alpha. Repeat, November Alpha. Fire when ready.”

The twenty launch-bay doors on the top of the vessel popped open one after the other, the pressure inside already having been equalised. The first missile burst through the waves, firing on a low angle trajectory towards a pre-designated target population centre within Strathy. Twenty seconds later, a second missile fired, towards a second target. Six minutes later, with twenty missiles heading for twenty targets, the Gothic Fury returned to a deeper depth.

“Turn about. Make for Sanctuary. Good work people.”

Even before the last missile was fired, the first reached it's optimum detonation altitude of eight kilometres. Eight warheads separated, falling towards the city below. When each reached a kilometre in altitude, a small charge detonated. This charge ignited the viscous liquid within each warhead, converting it instantly into an aerosol, which was dispersed to envelop the city. With almost no warning, the Strathian civilians below, along with those in another nineteen population centres (assuming that none were taken out by anti-ballistic missile defences), were enveloped by a colossal cloud of deadly VX nerve agent. The first blow had been struck.

by **Strathy** » Tue Jun 14, 2011 1:47 pm

Phones rang inceasently in the Strathan General Command. Reports were sketchy, but it appeared 18 towns on one of Strathy's North-West Islands had been blasted by some kind of nerve gas. Only two missiles had been intercepted. Clean up operations, resucue operations, investigations and preperations for similar attacks were already being planned and implemented. Hundreds of thousands of innocent people lay dead in the streets of once thriving towns. An entire island had been decimated.

As the panic at the high command continued, Field Marshal Dubrowsky entered the main conference room. The table was littered with maps and charts, high ranking officers ran to and fro. Dubrowsky poured over reports and maps, not even acknowledging the panicing officers. An entire destroyer division had been deployed in search of the submarine, the stiken island was being evacuated. The panic became too much for the Field Marshal, he looked up at the conference room and smashed his fist down on the table, causing a glass to fall and smash on the floor. "Right!" He commanded, " anyone who is not actually going to help, get out!"
At once the room fell silent; a general approched him, "sir, what are your orders?" The Field Marshal looked up at the General, standing in his gold braided uniform, the man looked like a fool. Dubrowsky got to his full height, he was a slender man, but had an imposing height, towering above the idiotic General. Dubrowsky surveyed the room: "Admiral Sheer, get those destroyers back, the enemy doesn't plan on waiting around to be found, he'll be long gone by now. Put all three Home Fleets on alert, I want the entire coast to be patrolled." With out even pausing for breath, he turned to the two Air-Generals before him, "You two, we need better air protection and better scramble times, if they go nuclear, I don't want any of those things landing!" Finally he turned to the idiotic looking General: "You, get that island evacuated and cleaned up. Gentelmen, that is all, get to it!"
With that Dubrowsky left the room to the paniced officers.

by **Peace for men** » Wed Jun 15, 2011 2:15 pm

The Two Spetsnaz squads underneath Lien had regrouped deep in enemy terrority watching the enemy units move steadily around on the ground below them. The hillside the wolves had dug their OP on was heavily loaded with cover and the groups took it in turns to watch enemy movements and note them down before their notes where then carried even further back to a small cave that had been discovered running deep under the ground where the reports on troops numbers and equipment were then radioed back to General Kane's command tent back in the main encampment back at the defence base. "Hey I got movement down there. Three tanks grouping up at black." Spetsnaz Wolves Private (SWP) Jaok looked through his spotter scope whilst his fellow SWP Mauk look through the scope of his sniper rifle. "Got two APC's moving to them now. Looks like the enemies regrouping their units I mean we haven't seen many of their paratroopers round here recently not since our second night when they were still securing their positions." Mauk whispered as the wind gusted over the landscape. Jaok grunted in response as he noted down several details of the types of vehicles and their armant. "Hope Kane likes this stuff."

It had been three days since the PFM and Strathy reinforcements had started to trickle off the transport ships and still men were moving into the line the Red army logistics taking a while to be set up meaning that regularly groups of men were still stuck sat on the beach whilst Mas neogatied with local commanders on areas for the Red army troops to be placed. On the third day those Mas was finally relived of his straining command of the whole troop deployment when General Spyrik rode up to the river bank on the top of his famous APC Vengance Mas saluted the General as he exited the Vengance. "Good to see you sir." Mas said in greeting. Spyrik smiled as he replied to the salute with a quick nod of his head before shaking his old comrades hand exchanging a small bottle of vodka with him. Mas grinned in turn and looked at the bottle, "I hope you have one for Himms sir. I believe Kane has been waiting for you to arrive before going to annouce himself to the General." Mas saw his Commander and friends face break out into a smile as he brought out another bottle of vodka and headed off in the direction of Himms tent soon being joined by Kane who seemed to appear out of the brush as if he had been just a simple twig. The two men arrived at Himms command post and when they asked for him were told to wait till he was free as he was still in his morning briefing. THe two men nodded agreement then found a pair of chairs and a small table and Kane pulled out of his rucksack a small chess board which he set up on the small table and watched as Spyrik placed a cigar in his mouth lit it then made the first move on the board, flipping it round so the white sat on his side. And so the game began...

by **Peace for men** » Thu Jun 23, 2011 12:42 pm

bump?

by **Strathy** » Fri Jun 24, 2011 3:18 am

The front line had become eerily quiet. The defences had been dug, the reinforcements placed and the fleet had begun to re-group off shore. General Himms sat in his command tent, surveying maps and reports from his intelligence drones and from the Spetsnaz group that had crossed the river. But apart from the occassional sighting of enemy scouts on the far river bank, all had gone quiet. Not a shot had been fired for days, the men were getting restless and Himms was no exception. He had inspected the trenches and bunkers several times, chatted with the men and given a couple of speeches, but he had no idea what the enemy were planning. Doubtless, it had to be something big: No force would wait this long unless they were building up to some sort of huge assault. After the attack on Strathy's homeland, everyone had become nervous, but after such a long period of silence, they began to relax. Himms had taken advantage of the situation on Hellena, and began to strengthen defences and issue more ammo, but he couldn't keep so many men on alert for so long. Had the mighty Mian war machine died? Had their troops lost heart and scampered? Himms waited for the next intel briefing, then he would make his move.

by **Strathy** » Fri Jun 24, 2011 3:18 am

The front line had become eerily quiet. The defences had been dug, the reinforcements placed and the fleet had begun to re-group off shore. General Himms sat in his command tent, surveying maps and reports from his intelligence drones and from the Spetsnaz group that had crossed the river. But apart from the occassional sighting of enemy scouts on the far river bank, all had gone quiet. Not a shot had been fired for days, the men were getting restless and Himms was no exception. He had inspected the trenches and bunkers several times, chatted with the men and given a couple of speeches, but he had no idea what the enemy were planning. Doubtless, it had to be something big: No force would wait this long unless they were building up to some sort of huge assault. After the attack on Strathy's homeland, everyone had become nervous, but after such a long period of silence, they began to relax. Himms had taken advantage of the situation on Hellena, and began to strengthen defences and issue more ammo, but he couldn't keep so many men on alert for so long. Had the mighty Mian war machine died? Had their troops lost heart and scampered? Himms waited for the next intel briefing, then he would make his move.

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

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

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