H.T.[IC-C1]-"Poland has not yet been lost"

[The Tophat Empire]

Warsaw-Okecie Airport
T-4.45.00 until first BETA units reach Vistula River
Major Wiking Björnsson
Commanding officer of 1st swedish special purpose unit in poland

As the soviet-bloc soldiers started to shout wiking said to the lab-coat wearing woman "I don't think they will give you any more gear, Follow me and i will see what i can do" before walking off, leaving the option in the brits hands, as he waked back to his own unit he started to hand out orders in swedish "Mission is a go, 1st platoon, mount up in those 301's as planned. Comm, get me a line to whoever is in charge of this, and note down that frequency." if Leslie decided to follow wiking would add "and find some proper gear for this woman, you have 4 minutes. Dismissed". The soldiers dispersing and sending the commands down the chain of command, and before long they were all ready together with the rest of the soldiers. The swedes taking up rear guard duty, not out of cowardice or anything, but wiking was not planning on letting his 103's out of sight, and the lack of a turret made them unsuited for urban combat, so they took position furthest to the back, to deliver close fire support and anti armor rounds should it be needed.

If Leslie decided to hang around the sweds she was also offered space in one of the 301's. The troopers inside would mostly be quiet and check their gear, but would offer advice and help her as best they could, as well as engaged in small talk if she initiated it. If she decided to follow wiking before and accept the gear she would have been offered a full set of the swedish uniform, including body armour, helmet and everything else.

In any case just before the unit where supposed to start heading out wiking, whom had taking up temporary residence in the roof of one of his tanks, used said tanks radio to speak to the rest of his men "All units of 1st swedish special purpose unit in poland, Major Björnsson speaking, we are about to depart, our enemy are polish insurgents. I know that you did not come here to kill your fellow man, but orders are orders. I expect you to do your duty, and will accept nothing else than excellence from the sons of what was once europe's most feared army. Let's make the carolines proud of their descendants. mount bayonets, Just in case." he said, not that he needed to say it, his men were all exceptional soldiers and he could confidently say that they would do their duty, no matter what. As the armoured group started to move wiking fixed his own bajonett to this AK4, still standing on the tank he grabbed the radio headset once more and said one last thing "hakkaa päälle pohjan poika", the sentence repeated by all his men in a small choir as they started to move out, the 301's first in the swedish unit, followed by the tanks, lastly 2nd platoon was spread out on the flanks, weapons at the ready.

(OOC:Ending it here to let Spindle make a post)

[Spindle]

Warsaw-Okecie Airport
Warsaw
Poland

Leslie watched, almost in shock, as the Reds began to chant. She was really here, wasn't she? She was really about to go out and fight and kill other humans. Her world had taken on an air of surreality, as if it didn't really exist. As if what she could see and hear around her wasn't really happening. After all, it couldn't be happening, could it? Could the world really have gone this insane around her?

The Swede from before was back again, now offering her some additional gear before dispersing like most of the crowd. After a moment's hesitation she dove into the crowd behind him, weaving through people to find where the Swedish contingent of their group was getting prepared for combat. At the Major's orders, one of the men brought her a full set of Swedish uniform - from where she didn't know - and laid it out in front of her. Perhaps it was some perverse sense of individuality here in Soviet territory but Leslie ignored the combat fatigues. Instead she just pulled the body armour over her lab coat, feeling its weight on her body and its uncomfortable tightness around her chest, and strapped the helmet onto her head before wordlessly taking her proffered seat in the battle taxi.

After several unconfortable minutes just sitting there while the people around her did last-minute checks of their equipment, the Major's voice crackled over the radio, giving yet another speech. These military types really liked their speeches, didn't they? When he gave the order to fix bayonets, Leslie must have been the only person not moving with instinctual precision. The cramped space was filled with click-clicks for a moment, as the soldiers attached bayonets to the ends of their weapons, before returning to a deathly quiet broken only by the shouting of men outside and the rumble of the engines.

With a lurch, they were moving and Leslie felt a knot of tension forming in her stomach. This was it. She was either going to die here or get back to Joseph and Margo. If she was honest with herself, she didn't know which one it would be. Endless minutes ground on with nothing but the occasional low murmur from the soldiers and the growling engines. The knot in Leslie's stomach had grown and now she felt like she was about to throw up. Perfectly normal survival instinct, a portion of her mind told her, Preparing to reduce weight in case you need to start running. It was cold comfort.

A shout went up: 'RPG!' By the time Leslie's mind had caught up with the implications, she was somehow outside. People were everywhere, Swedish, East German, Russian, Polish. They all seemed to blend into one in her eyes: a chaotic swirl of colours and noises which she didn't have time to fully comprehend. Her legs were moving her and then she was on the ground and something exploded where she had been. The assault rifle suddenly felt so much heavier in her hands, unwilling to be used. A man appeared in a window; then the window shattered and he swayed backwards, a red stain colouring his front. Toppling forwards, he landed on the ground in front of Leslie with a thump, head lolling grotesquely and eyes staring vacantly at her.

Pulling herself to her feet, Leslie looked around wildly for anything she could hide behind. The Polish must have prepared the area well, because there was almost nothing that she could use to shield herself from the worst of the gunfire. What little cover there was had already been taken by various people. Eyes searching further afield, they suddenly landed on the building next to her. She could hide in there! A short sprint and she was next to the door, pulling the handle and barging through into the building.

The door whacked into something meaty and Leslie burst through to see a man with what the small, rational corner of her mind identified as a Polish armband reeling backwards, clutching at his face. Seeing her, he roared something she couldn't make out and reached around to his hip. Everything seemed to slow as Leslie brought the rifle to her shoulder and pulled the trigger. It must have been a trick of her imagination, but she swore she heard all three shot separately, felt each kick of the rifle against her shoulder. The man jerked for a moment, red spreading like a macabre rose blossoming across his chest. With agonising slowness he crumpled to the ground, Leslie staring in shock at what had once been a living, breathing human being. Her shoulder ached, but she didn't notice that. Oh, God. Oh, good God.

[The Tophat Empire]

Warsaw
T-4.00.00 until first BETA units reach Vistula River
Major Wiking Björnsson
Commanding officer of 1st swedish special purpose unit in poland

Everything was quiet, almost to so, wiking was still sitting on the roof of one of the 103's, the rest of his squad walking right behind the armored war-machine. One of them looked up and half-shouted "Major, why are you sitting on the roof?". wiking looked back and simply said "can't see shit otherwise, and someone needs to see what's going on here, and it ain't you corporal." returning his gaze to the soldiers in front of him, he only saw a few over the hulks of the 302's, but he saw a sorry collection of men. The germans were pretty well equipped, but the rest, not so much. "Keep your eyes peeled, there might be hostiles anywhere here." wiking said, but in a struck of irony he had hardly released the transmitter when the dreaded word exited some soldiers mouth "RPG!", atho wiking did not think of it at the moment the accent was russian in origin, a bit of fate's irony.

with a violent explosion the lead tank, a older T-64 detonated, sending shrapnel into the closest soldiers, flames erupting from the open hatches, the round had penetrated into the ammunition storage, a good, or lucky shot.

The soldiers were now trapped on the roads, with polish troops on both sides, and in the front. Wiking watched as the russian and polish soldiers started to brake, the germans held, hardly surprising. "dismount and Disperse!" wiking shouted, his radio operator sending the order to the mounted soldiers, a whom under the covering fire of the 302's disembarked, and using the APC's for cover they started to return fire. Wiking, looked around, trying to find the most high value target, he saw a MG nest in a apartment bock dead ahead. He jumped off the roof of the tank, and ran up the vision slits for the driver/gunner, shouting "I want one round on that MG nest, HEAT". He saw how the driver nodded before saying something wiking could not hear. He himself ran and linked up with the rest of his unit. Doing so just in time to hear the roar of the 105mm gun of one of the tanks fire, together with the sporadic sound of machine guns, and high caliber battle rifle.

As he reached his squad he got a update, thus far there had been no swedish casualties, how many allies had been killed or wounded no-one knew, apparently the only units still holding some cohesion was the germans and swedish, the rest was just in pure chaos. But from the looks of it, the War-Pac/NATO forces were about to win, at least for the moment. "Keep up the pressure, do not get lost in enemy territory, is anyone keeping eyes on that civvie we picked up? if not, find her. Get a line to Anvil unit, tell them to only use their main rounds if they have to, they only have 50." wiking told his command squad, who set about to execute his commands.

Wiking himself set about joining his men in taking down the insurgents, shooting in controlled bursts against any targets of opportunity

[Tracian Empire]

The bloody fight continued. The way this ambush had been set up- it was perfect. The Polish rebels were seemingly everywhere, having the more advantageous positions in the buildings, while the soldiers were desperately trying to hold their ground on the street. For a moment, even the East German forces seemed to waver. Some of the veterans, if you can call them that, like Alexander, the ones who had survived Bialystok and Brest, were keeping the ground, but the new conscripts "shipped in" from home were ready to run away. Some of them even did that, throwing their weapons and running... for a moment, the fate of the battle hanged in balance. But then, of course, the Shield and Sword of the Party intervened.

In the back, the STASI officers, led by the political officer, opened fire mercilessly at the soldiers who had retreated. At the ones who seemed to want to. Disciplined had to be maintained. The No Retreat Order had to be followed. Caught between the STASI officers and the Polish rebels, like animals, the Warsaw Pact soldiers had only one option left. Vorwärts! , the political officer screamed. And the soldiers attacked. It was better to die under the bullets of the rebels, then to die under the STASI bullets and had their families persecuted back at home. This was it, the wonderful communist utopia. Dying for the motherland, for the party...

---

As a grenade exploded somewhere near, Alexander threw himself to the ground, quickly shooting at someone who was hiding behind the remains of a car, wearing the Polish armband. Thoughts, feelings, they didn't matter here. It was kill or be killed. The only thing that mattered was to keep the rifle under control, and kill. Just like at Bialystok.. just that here, there were humans they were fighting. There was fire and blood everywhere. People were dying. Poles, Germans, Russians..

As Leslie was sitting shocked in front of the door, somewhere inside the room, a young boy, probably around 12 years old, stood up from where he was hidden, beneath a table. He looked at the dead man for a few moments, before he looked directly at her, with hate in his eyes. The boy was probably one of the many Polish civilians who ended up caught in the middle of the battle, and that man was probably his father... The boy took something from his pocket, and aimed it at the British woman. A pistol. With a clear will to kill, the boy was about to press the trigger...

When a bullet hit him directly in the chest. Sent back by the momentum of the high caliber bullet, the boy fired, the bullet hitting the ceiling. The boy fell dead on the floor, near the body of the man. Coming from behind, someone rather violently pushed her inside, out of the way of any of the bullets that were flying around everywhere on the streets.

"Move!", Alexander said roughly as he entered. Those civilians, always getting in the way... not minding the woman, the East German broke the next door, and quickly fired his AK, screams being heard from inside, before he entered the room. No mercy. No thoughts. No feelings.

The battle was slowly turning in the favor of the combined NATO-WarPac units, but then, two T-72's appeared from the streets behind the group, one of them firing at one of the Swedish tanks. The Polish People's Army ensigns of the tanks were covered by the black Kotwika. The Polish Rebels, the New Armia Krajowa.

[Spindle]

Warsaw
Poland

Leslie watched as the boy crawled out from under the table, standing and staring at the corpse. Leslie felt her heart dropping away as his body tensed. Oh, God no. Please, God no. For a moment tears pricked at the corners of her eyes in sympathy, before he spun to face her, pulling out a pistol from God only knew where. Her rifle came up in response, one eye closing to aim down the sights...and she paused, finger trembling on the live trigger. She seemed to hang there forever, the boy moving to pull the trigger and Leslie standing still, frozen into place as she watched those youthful eyes narrow. She couldn't do it. She was going to die here. This was the end.

A loud crack echoed through the room and Leslie let her arm drop limply to her side, head lolling forwards with eyes squeezed tightly shut. A sable veil covered her face as her hair fell forwards, obscuring her emotions as she waited for the bullet to impact in her body. She knew what would happen: first of all it would penetrate her skin, snapping through whatever bone was in its way. Then it would start to fragment, tearing a hole in her body far out of proportion to the entry wound. By the time it exited her, she would be bleeding to death.

"Move!"

Leslie's eyes snapped open at the voice, in time to see the boy crumple to the ground. A hole had been drilled neatly below his sternum, probably killing him instantly. Closing her eyes, she whispered a small prayer for the boy and his father, together in death. Dropping down to one knee, she gently closed his eyes as the sound of gunshots and screams came from the next room along. Bringing the rifle back to her shoulder, she cautiously entered the room and looked around. More dead bodies were strewn around, like discarded dolls, and in the center was the soldier from the airport. Alexander. Moving fully into the room, Leslie quickly brushed her hair out of her face before speaking, dreading the reply.

"Wh-what do we do now?"

[The Tophat Empire]

Warsaw
T-4.00.00 until first BETA units reach Vistula River
Major Wiking Björnsson
Commanding officer of 1st swedish special purpose unit in poland


"reloading!" wiking shouted, quickly pressing the magazine release button, catching the falling mag in the air he put it into a pocket and inserted another, field box of ammunition into the rife. Things were looking up, the formerly broken reds had regained their combat effectiveness, even if it was due to rather illegal methods. If anyone here lived to see the end of this war, wiking was sure that geneva would have a field day. But there was no time to think about that. For just when it looked like they insurgents were about to break wiking noticed how the ground started to shake slightly, that mean bad news.

And true was that, for around a corner some 75 meters away 2 T-74 arrived, carrying the insignia of the new polish home army. Thier turrets spun around and locked onto Anvil-1, the lead 103 tank, the one that wiking was close to. "Disperse!" he shouted, and he and his men quickly scurred into new cover. Moments later a round left one of the polish tanks, and impacted Anvil-1, a loud detonation occurring, covering the tank in smoke. One could think that this meant the tank was destroyed, but the swedes knew this to be incorrect. The polish tanks had fired HEAT rounds. Normally that would have worked, but the 103 was equipped with a secret weapon, Slat armor.

When the smoke dispersed, one could see anvil-1 was in full working condition, one that parts of the rigid metal bars had been blown up.

Furthermore, the swedish soldiers had always assumed that russia would be their enemy, should war arise, and the tank crews had been forced to memorise the "weak points" of most russian armour, something that now paid off as both Anvil-1 and -2 started to use their high fire-rate to eliminate the T-74's with armour piercing rounds.

[Tracian Empire]

Warsaw, Poland

The Polish tanks really weren't expecting such a defense from the Swedish tanks. At least in the conception of the Warsaw Pact, the Swedes were weak enemies. And who would have imagined to see NATO tanks in the middle of Warsaw? The Westerners had finally come... to fight the Poles who were fighting for liberty. Wasn't it ironic? In 1944, the Poles rose up for their liberty. The Germans slaughtered them, while the allies simply looked. Now, 34 years later, the Poles were rising to fight for freedom one more. And now, the Allies were fighting them. The Western betrayal at its finest.

The two T-74's were quickly defeated by the Swedish tanks. But the Armia Krajowa still had more aces up its sleeve. Suddenly, artillery fire was heard, and the area was hit by an artillery barrage. The soldiers hid where they could, but the artillery rounds.. they weren't explosive. A green smoke like substance started to spread...
Gas!

---

In the building, Alexander sighed. Under normal circumstances, he would have simply ignored the Western woman and continue fighting. But for some reason, even if he was never going to openly admit that, he really disliked the way his country and the other Eastern countries were simply sending people to die like that, unprepared. And that British woman.. it was clear that she had nothing to do on a battlefield. Well, hadn't he been in a similar situation, back when he and thousand other unprepared conscripts had been thrown in Bialystok?

"We'll have to clean the buildings, one by one. I know you don't like to kill, so let me forward, but be careful. It's kill or be killed.", the East German said as he started to search the dead bodies. Strangely... they all had gas masks. But why?... And then, the whistle of an artillery shell was heard before it exploded somewhere near the building, causing a part of the ceiling to collapse. Alexander pushed Leslie away from the part of the room which was now covered in the pieces of the collapsed ceiling. And the green gas started to spread in the room..
"Put this on!", the East German shouted as he gave the woman one of the gas masks that belonged to the dead Poles, before taking one for himself. This fight had suddenly gotten more and more complicated...

[Spindle]

Warsaw
Poland

Leslie nodded, perhaps to Alex or perhaps to herself, as the soldier replied. A small smile flickered gratefully over her face at his concession to take point. Perhaps it was pure pragmatism, to prevent her from getting in his way, but she was willing to believe that he had some good intentions, at the very least. Nodding shakily, she looked towards the next door, dreading what would be on the other side and trying not to meet the lifeless stares of the dead bodies strewn around the room.

With a whumph, something impacted on the roof above them. The ceiling collapsed and something knocked into her, resolving into Alexander once her mind recovered from the shock and suddenness of the action. Smiling thankfully to him, she eyed the green gas seeping into the room with trepidation, mind making a rapid connection. Oh...the Geneva convention had just been thrown out of the window. Again. Taking the gas mask proffered by Alex, she fitted it over her face and took her first breath of filtered air. Her face was much heavier than it had been previously, her vision obscured by the heavy rubber.

"Thanks." She smiled nervously, bringing her weapon to her shoulder, "After you?"

[The Tophat Empire]

Warsaw
T-4.00.00 until first BETA units reach Vistula River
Major Wiking Björnsson
Commanding officer of 1st swedish special purpose unit in poland

The tanks were down, 2 more wrecks filling the streets. Once more the NATO-WarPac forces pushed, and once more it looked like they were about to break the rebels, but then the whistle of rounds filled the air, the biggest fear of every infantryman, artillery. Wiking heard as men of all nationalities started to shout the same things, "Take cover". Wiking joined in before scurrying into a building, hunkering below the windows as he awaited the thuds and cacophony of High Explosives.

a sound that only appeared in it's absence, instead he heard something even scarier, "Gas!", the word filled the air from soldiers. Wiking looked up and saw the green blanket spread closer and closer. Quickly he pulled out his hasmask and took it on, letting the grey silicone cover his face. Just in the nick of time, as he now saw the green haze upon him. He saw some of his men taking cover behind some rubble, and shouted "Trooper, report!"

The swedish troopers looked at him, and as some of them started to lay down suppressive fire on the general direction of the rebels one of them bolted into the house that wiking took cover in. On his back wiking saw the antenna of a radio. "Sir, 2 men from 1st squad have been wounded and are being treated in taxi 4. Unknown what wounds" the radio man said, breathing heavily under his mask.

wiking nodded in reply "Soldier, we are going to reach the top of this building and see if we can get some anti-bat fire" he said, the soldier nodding as he checked his ammunition supply. Wiking rose up and raised his rifle as he started to search the building, before long he found the central stair case, he and his man quietly walked up it, having to stop halfway at the sound of gunfire, apparently some rebels where just up ahead. Motioning the soldier to stop, wiking pulled out one his frag grenades, pulling the pin and depressing the handle he started to silently count; "1...2...3...4...5..." before throwing it towards the rebels, turning his head and forcefully pushing down the swedish soldier, a remain from his training, the officers always did that so the trainees would not hurt themselves, in this situation it did nothing, they where already safe.

The grenade went of, and for a moment the room was filled with screams, then, nothing. The gun fire in the nearby vicinity went silent. Wiking quickly ran up, the soldier following. In the room was 3 corpses, all mutilated beyond recognition, a sickening sight. "Guard" wiking shouted as he holstered his rifle and ran up the dead men, he quickly found the men, whom all had been civilians before taking up arms, all carried wallets with id-cards in. Taking out a notebook wiking quickly noted down the names, and the current time. Wasting no time he put the book back and brought back his rifle, half running past the soldier he said "On me", the soldier instantly following his CO.

When they got up on the roof wiking ignored the fighting on the streets below him, instead he brought out his binoculars and started to scan the horizon, talking to the soldier while he did "Trooper, how fast are you with the radio?", he asked.

The soldier instantly replied "Fast enough for the coastal rangers, sir"

"cut the snark, get a line to the commanding officer of this mess, and stand by." wiking coldly relied, even if he was interested in this soldier, the coastal rangers were commonly known as the elite of the swedish army, even if wiking disagreed, mostly by principe.

"sorry sir" the soldier said as he placed down the radio from his side, extending the antenna fully and bringing the mouthpiece up he started to speak, transmitting on the correct military frequencies "Political commissar Georg Jeckeln, Political commissar Georg Jeckeln, come in. This is CO of the swedish contingent, hailing Political commissar Georg Jeckeln. Over." repeating the message with 20 seconds intervals.

While he did that wiking looked at the horizon, from where he thought the polish shells had been fired from, and soon he found what he looked for, a small cloud of smoke, and a few black dots. The polish artillery.

Removing the binoculars wiking sat about using maps and compasses to find out on a map where the artillery was located, once he had done so he spoke to the soldier "Get me a line on support, here is the grid" he said as he handing the man his map, the artillery position marked on it. The soldier set about competing the new orders and changed frequency "any and all elements reading this. This is SSPUP 1 requesting adjust fire mission in grid ES 923 945. Over"