1912-1990 Era War IC (Semi-Closed)

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Hoosier forces in Manchuko received a rather absurd, comical even, demand from the Manticoran military presence in Manchuko. The numerically inferior and cut-off-from-supply Manticorans demanded that the Hoosiers surrender to them. Before it could be outright rejected, orders came in from Indianapolis. It appeared that the Manticorans were swiftly betraying the Central Alliance members they had convinced to join them in war with Nihon. The orders were clear; withdraw from Manchuko and join Skartentine forces on their front with Nihon. Millions of Hoosiers and Skartentines would soon be fighting side by side against the smaller Nihonese force that had no chance of resupply.

Part of the Hoosier orders was to withdraw in an orderly manner and attack any partisan positions as they went. So, as the Hoosiers pulled out of Manchuko and entered Smirsja, the Hoosier army burned and pillaged every single village they came across. As they left, Hoosiers planted many confiscated rifles, old shell casings, melee weapons, and the like to give plausible deniability if accused of killing innocents.

On the homefront, the Hoosier reserves were being mobilized. It was a force of thirty infantry divisions, totaling 1,327,590 men. Additionally, twenty more divisions were conscripted and began their training.


The Hoosier Marshal, Eric Stewart, arrived in the city of Assurhan at the request of the Aydiniri Empress. He had traveled through the secure airways via zeppelin. He disembarked with his guard of elite Hoosier Army infantry and went on his way to meet with the "Divine" Empress.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Vicuna, Manticore
June 1929

It had come as a shock to Parliament that Queen Catherine had authorized a ceasefire agreement with the Nihonese. The peers in the House of Lords were not too concerned. They, after all, were not elected. But they didn't have the real power. True power lay in the elected hands of the House of Commons and those MPs were far from pleased with the news. None were more vocal than Adrian Carlisle, a rising star in Parliament who represented Ostland. And Adrian was now standing in the middle of the House of Commons, loudly denouncing the Queen's initiative. "Her Majesty has decided that the lives of our citizens are not worth avenging! Thousands died in the Nihonese attack on Nuln. Three thousand seven hundred and ninety six, to be exact. Men, women, and children. To add insult to this grievous injury, the Nihonese also sought to ruin our economy and the livelihoods of our citizens by dumping millions in counterfeit currency across the world! In spite of these offenses, the Queen sees fit to end this war without reaping suitable compensation from the Nihonese. NO I SAY TO YOU! When this agreement is sent to us, I urge all of you to vote it down. We cannot allow the Queen to let our citizens die unavenged."

[TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON]

Vicuna
Middenland
Manticore
1929 June 3

The Nihonese delegation had landed in Manticore, and would soon work in discussions over the peace agreement. Headed by Minister of Foreign Affairs Baron Kijuro Shidehara, known for his pro-Manticorian reputation, and former Ambassador Katsuji Debuchi, the delegation was prepared to finally bring peace between Nihon and Manticore.

Manchuko
1929 May 12

In occupied Manchuko guerrilla fighters consisting of both Nihonese and Manchukoans, even some Arengins from the settlement continued the fight deep behind enemy lines. Groups had started off with small things, such as stealing supplies here and there, slashing tires, tearing down propaganda posters, and encouraging others to rise up. But over time got braver, stealing guns, burning vehicles and buildings, and shooting at enemy forces. The enemy had advanced over a very large amount of land very quickly, so supply lines were not as elaborate and planned out. Groups would launch attacks on supply conveys, destroy means of communication, and even in the past month several daring attacks had occurred against enemy garrisons. Now the enemy had to watch out for snipers, and traps planted by the brave civilians, willing to serve their Empire with honor. The main target of operations was Hoosiers, as deep hatred had grown for them, as Manchukoans watched as their friends and families were brutally murdered by soldiers and officers of the Hoosier Army.

Manchuko
1929 June 1

The Skartenians in Manchuko had suffered hundreds of thousands of casualties in the taking of around 20 km in of Manchuko. Nihonese estimates put the enemy at around 850,000 casualties, a number that the enemy would find harder to replace. Nihonese forces had suffered a similar amount of casualties, with estimates around 820,000, but with more dead. Commanders continued to remind the men to not commit suicide or launch suicide attacks, rather defend their posts until the bitter end, or until command ordered them to withdraw. The enemy had managed to take out the first and second lines of defense, but the third line was reinforced, and very strong. Laborers continued to work on a new set of fallback lines should the third line of defense fall, yet the cease-fire and peace treaty would allow around 4 million men holding the Eastern Front to be moved to assist in the full defense of the Northern front. Nihonese forces consisted of around 7 million men, and commander were confident in their ability to crush the enemy as they continued to push. The enemy on the 27th of May had chosen to continue forward with their push, and now with estimates showing the enemy had a little more than 200,000 riflemen, Nihonese forces were ready to take out the Skartenian army once and for all. The past few days the fighting had been fierce, yet Nihonese and Manchukoans remained strong and willing. Already the Nihonese battlefleet geared up to move in and crush the enemy’s naval power to reestablish naval dominance and support better supply lines. Yet submarines had an easy time slipping through, supplying Nihonese and Manchukoan forces with the ammo and weapons they needed to continue the fight. There were several smaller makeshift “factories” in Manchuko, where women, young children, and older men worked constantly to build bombs and ammo for the defense. Control over the valley was still maintained, providing allied forces with drinking water, crops, and other supplies.

Shishiri
Occupied Carriebean
1929 May 14

In Shishiri, Nihonese forces combined with trained Carriebeaners prepared defenses, and with powerful coastal guns having been in place for the past 4 years or so, built to counter the then pending Rusklandr invasion, they forces there consisting of the Southern Army Group and Shishiri Army Group along with members of the Imperial Carriebean Shishiri Army remained vigilant and ready. While they continued to send up balloon bombs, dealing damage to Hoosier communications, damaging property, and causing fires. Any enemy vessel that came into range was fired upon, and beneath the waves, a small number of Nihonese submarines patrolled the deep, occasionally rising to sink the unsuspecting Hoosier merchant ship, before diving back down and returning to the safety of Nihonese waters.

Warglorian Controlled Sapporo
Nihon
1929 May 11

The once great port city of Sapporo now lay with parts burnt in ruins. Some parts of the city survived, especially areas made more so out a metal, and that surrounding the several fire stations located around the huge city. Tens of thousands of civilians remained dead or wounded, yet a number did survive. Some rushed across the local river or others hid in sealed bomb shelters, safe from the fire and destruction. Air defenses had rushed after being alerted by the coastal patrol, with flak, machine guns, and aircraft were put in the air for the full defense of Sapporo.

The choice to attack Sapparo was very shocking to Nihonese command, as they had previously believed such a city for so many reasons would be an unwise target. For one, it had been ceded to Warglorian control as a part of the Nihonese-Warglorian treaty. Secondly, as a major port, there was the Warglorian Embassy and joint bases there. Not to mention the traders from other nations Nihon was friendly with, such as Aclus, Traansval, or Arengin Union. And as a result Warglorians and merchants from other nations had died. An action in which would not give Aydinir good international attention.

At the very least, estimates put the enemy at having lost or heavily damaged around 80-136 enemy bombers, not to mention the Nihonese air groups from the carriers having been moved to intercept once word got out and taking out a few more enemy planes.

The enemy did not stray far into the city, having only attacked for around 12 minutes which helped allow many to escape, and left the Nihonese air base safe. The air fields had suffered, but the air base had been spared.

Now the matter of concern would be how to explain to all the Ambassadors how their countrymen had died and that they would not be able to return the remains home.

One advantage the enemy had given up now, was how to put the fires out, as new techniques were learned. Another was the remains of the fire, something, scientists would be able to study to find chemical composition, and hopefully, how to make a batch of their own.

And in Gokyo, it was decided until Sapporo could be repaired for the Warglorians, the port city of Yokohama would be given to the Warglorians to use and maintain.

Ryukyu Islands
Nihon
1929 May 13

Nihonese Commanders on the Ryukyu

The enemy was foolish to attack the Ryukyu Islands, being vital to the defense of Nihon, it had hundreds of thousands of men ready to defend the group of islands, and each island having fortified positions and a complex of tunnels underground, along with adequate artillery perfect for coastal defense.

Dozens of 20 cm/50 3rd Year Type naval guns, ranging up to 18 miles, far more than the 13 miles of the guns of the Aydinirian Devan Class Battleships, allowed Nihonese forces to fire upon the enemy if the enemy was firing upon them, and before then. The same fate was suffered by the Suran Class, which only had a 10 mile range. The enemy’s pre-dreadnoughts would suffer a similar problem, having a maximum range of 9.3 miles. The enemy’s Devan Class were lucky in having fair armor, enough to protect against most of the 8 inch rounds. But the Suran Class with lighter armor made a good target for the guns. The enemy’s pre-dreadnoughts even more so, but the many Type 7 30cm Howitzers on the islands were able to score more devastating hits, with a nice range of 9.2 miles. There where a few Type 96 24 cm Howitzers on the islands too, and with their 9.9 mile range, where able to hit both Suran Class battleships and the enemy’s pre-dreadnought fleet. Also one the islands where hundreds of 14 cm 50 3rd Year Type naval guns, and with a 12 mile range, would be useful. There where even a few 16.1 inch guns mounted on some of the islands, and with a cool 23.8 mile range, would be devastation of enemy fleets should the gun find its range.

The guns had dealt some serious damage to various ships of the enemy fleet, and while yet losing men on the ground, the enemy would suffer on the water.

Defenses where ready, and command was sure the island could fend for itself against the enemy fleet, but command ordered with allied support, to dispatch 16 of the fleets newest battleships accompanied by 2 battlecruisers, 2 carriers, and their escorts along with the Warglorian Fleet based in Nihon, consisting of 8 battleships, 2 carriers, 4 battlecruisers, and their escorts would join elements of the Twelve Isles Fleet acting in defense of Nihon with 2 of its battleships and escorts to move to strike the enemy taskforce and destroy it. The rest of the Nihonese battlefleet would sail to Hokkaido, where it would be ready to join its allies in a full naval offensive against Skarten.

Commanders of the garrisons in the Ryukyu reminded their citizens to stay away from “barbarian” propaganda and remain vigilant and ready to defend their homes. The enemy had sent fighters armed with bombs and leaflets from its carriers, yet anti aircraft guns and fighters had intercepted and shot down a number of enemy planes. Their pilots, if captured were sent straight away to the Kenpeitai for interrogation. After examination of the shot down planes, command noted the enemy’s use of what they called the Boeing Model 15 a plane of the PW-9 variant, a pursuit fighter. This proved the enemy’s ignorance in the use of carriers, a complete waste. The PW-9 was not outfitted with arresting gear. Cheaper yes, but that just meant enemy planes would have a very hard time being able to land on their carriers, making it a one way mission for the planes, if not also for the pilots.

Gokyo, Nihon
1929 June 1

In order to replace losses in Manchuko conscription has been instituted on territories of Nihonese control, with young Carriebeaners, natives from the Takeshima, and thousands of Nihonese being called up to fight. Another 30 divisions would be raised and training would soon begin.

[Guuj Xaat Kil]

In a bar, somewhere in the Confederacy

“So you want to hear my tale?” a man answers, you nod expectantly, “Fuck off, ah'legeth...”. You frown a bit, and ask the bartender for a glass of what the man had drank earlier, for yourself of course, and another glass of something similar but stronger, for him. A brisk nod, thumping footsteps, and a few moments later, the two glasses are slipped on over to you. You nudge the stronger one over to the war veteran, who looks at you with contempt and annoyance, “Do you honestly think another drink is capable of breaking me open?” he tentatively drinks the beverage, and his baleful glare softens, “I guess you can, alright cunt, I’ll tell the tale.”. He downs the entire drink.

A pregnant pause, then he slams the drink into the bar top. “Be~ careful~” he says to you in a singsong voice, it sounds like a drunk Carriebeaner sailor’s warbling of a shanty, “It be a grisly tale, of gore, dead babies, warfare, sex, alcohol, and death, ohoho!”. He yells at the bartender for another one, it appears his tone of voice has allowed for the drink to be served quicker than usual. He downs the drink, and the hardness of the stuff is starting to show results, as he’s swaying softly, and his voice has a slight slur. “Mm-hmm, good stuff aye… Now, where were we?” You quickly remind him of the deal, he tells you the tale for you to jot down and you give him free drinks, he quickly nods, “Oh-kay! Tell the tale, tell the tale… No good is a drunk man wailing about his misery, ha haa!”.

He stands up, rubs his temples thoroughly, and slams his rear back to the stool. “Lemme look for it, wait a wee bit alright? The thing helps me remember...” He trails off darkly at that last statement, its quite obvious that he doesn’t want to remember. The man does a silent “Ah...” as he hits a snag in his pocket, and pulls out something.

Its a flag, a white cross with black outlines, on a green field that reminds you of grass. The battle-flag of the, depending on who you were asking, famous or infamous 9th Regiment of the 6th Division. Those Sheepish immigrants turned into soldiery, those madmen who led the tide-turning charge at the Bog, the same madmen who had the gall to engage neutral Hoosier divisions at Leersog, and the same madmen who had the guts to engage said Hoosiers again as well as 2 million Skartenian soldiers in Manchuko, and survive. “Impressed? Don’t be, its all stupid amounts of luck I say,” the veteran says as he pulls out another thing from his pockets, a dog-tag…

You must’ve been seeing things, as the dog tag was saying “Sheridan Maugham” the hero and madman of madmen in the 9th, he who led all those operations, and someone you faintly knew, you don’t know if you recall correctly. “Yeah yeah, its me, believe it or not.” He says sullenly- interrupting your train of thought, as he looks down at the bottom of his glass, you can only let out a quiet wow in response. He asks for another drink, and downs it as fast as the other two from earlier.

“Sergeant Albrikt Fleming,” slam, “Dead.”. “Corporal Crallo Jansen,” slam, “Dead.”. “Numerous privates, can’t name them all,” slam, “Dead, dead, dead! Deader than dead, in a grave in some godforsaken land somewhere, AND UNMARKED!” He slams a mug into the floor, breaking it. You get ready to stand up to calm him down, but the bartender stops you with a gesture, “Don’t try, this is how he calms down, mug’s on the house.”.

“By the gods! Have you heard how that private screamed?” he bellows out manically, his eyes frantically darting about, “I finally remember his name, AND YOU SHOULD TOO! Private Victor Erin, VICTOR ERIN! DIED IN SYRISSA!”. He throws another mug to the ground, “He never got to finish what he was saying, “I’m hit I’m hit!”, never got to finish screaming,” he sits back down, but his anger is still palpable, “All I heard was a sharp “AAH!” ring through the air, before Maxims ripped him to ribbons and all that came from him was gurgling.”.

You then heard a mixture of things, ranging from distinct sobbing to ironic peals of laughter, from angry growling to lung-emptying sighs. You see his hands pressed to his face, covering nearly all of it, and him shaking his head from side to side in a jittery manner. “What did I do? What did I do? Did I deserve this?” he moans from behind his hands, “They all lived plentiful lives before I met them, then they died a death they didn’t deserve. Good friends, all of them, and yet fate has taken them all from me.” He takes off a hand from his face, the other goes to his forehead, “Gods, even Nate don’t look at me the same no more, nobody that I know that lucked out does.”. He had laid his head on his crossed arms on the table, “Dunno where those Norcourtian friends are, especially that Dak Hesley,” he mutters, “Bet he’d look down on me.”.

His head rose up slightly, you can barely see the reddened eyes, “But the Manchuko Campaign made me look down at myself… Maybe I should have disobeyed orders back then,” he mutters darkly, “Save those two and the rest of my regiment, in exchange for myself.”. He’s fully upright now, an ironic smile plastered loosely on his face, “But hey, what could you expect,” he slams his fist on his head, “From a greedy,” again, “Whoreson like me?” And again. He slams his head on the table this time, “But I don’t think that whores would even want to have a son like me.”. He beckons the bartender for another drink to calm him down, it is delivered swiftly and Mr. Maugham quickly chugs it down like he was a Nihonese soldier that got stuck in Opus.

He rubs his eyes with his left, “Al… Right… Where were we? Ah yes, my tale that you want to use for profit, I see I see, alright, now if I recall correctly...” …

---

Manchuko, Black Zone

…

…

.. “Sir, wake up!”

You jolt upright from your position on the floor from the voice of a private, all around you, artillery roars, ground ruptures, and gunfire fills the air. “Good morning sir,” the corporal, err… Mark Virtanen was it? Says as he pulls you off the ground. “Thanks Corporal, now let’s get the hell out of here.” you reply. Getting to work immediately, you begin helping others in need, picking them up from the ground and carrying them on your back if need be, only one needed that treatment though. The end result was 27 men being saved, including yourself. “Right, no use calling this platoon-sized motley group a battalion,” you joke to save morale from dropping, slight laughter confirms success, “Might as well call it that, a platoon. Now, on me.”. Your group begins getting out of the black zone where chances of survival was close to zero, and oftentimes went into the negative.

Traveling almost five miles in under an hour, through difficult ground and the stress of having the enemy right on your figurative doorstep, tends to tire one out, and the group rests in a small village. The largest, fairly untouched building near the northwestern edge of the hamlet is then occupied, to be used as a temporary HQ.

You drag a table into the concourse of the building, and flatten a map on it. “Alright men, gather around,” you call out, a few of the abler ones arrive and surround the table, “We’re knee deep in the black zone, but I know a route to quickly get us into yellow.”. You take out a pen from your hand and encircle something, “This is where we are,” then you begin drawing a line through roads, hills, towns and rivers, which ends on a town just across a bridge, you encircle the place, “And this, is where we’re going and how we’ll get there.”. Opposition arose.

“Wouldn’t that route be teeming with scouts looking for stragglers by now?” A second lieutenant pipes up. You quickly look at him and reply, “That is why, we will be going out at nightfall and splitting into three groups of equal strength,” you quickly draw two alternate lines at a hilly section, then a single separate line in a somewhat forested area, and finally, another two by a river, “These hills have no trees but they are grassy, we’ll need to split up in order to prevent getting spotted by the noise, avoid scouts at all costs, we may be going at our slowest pace there. Here by the forest, we’ll have plenty of cover, do not shoot to kill, use your bayonets and knives on kills you can secure, shoot only in desperate situations. And by this bridge, we’ll be far enough from the other areas that we’ll be able to use our guns, there are two areas where the river is thin downstream, and my group will be taking out whosoever is on the bridge, the other two will ford the river at these two points and prevent any possible stragglers from fleeing, we do not want regiments getting sicced on our asses now, do we? Any objections?”.

Silent shaking of heads, the plan was a go. “Good, we’re leaving at 0600, get your strength up for the travel.” They nod their heads and get to preparations, yourself, well, your stomach is making you automatically go to your rations. Digging into the bag reveals a can and an opener, the former of which, is almost as big as both of your hands pressed together horizontally, it’s quite light however, due to its contents, which open opening, reveal a goo-like dull maroon mixture with bits and pieces of what seems to be grayish-pink meats and utterly gray potatoes. “BrBsk, Lamb and Potato Ration” the label on the can says. You take out the spoon that also comes with it, and gobble it all down quickly.

Tasteless potatoes, crunchy rock-like lamb meat, and you can taste a hint of blood in the goo. The usual findings in these things. Everyone in the Confederate armed forces were used to these bizarre rations, made in that paradoxically fertile gray dustbowl called the Breadbasket, green was somewhat a dream there as well as bread, to a lesser extent, and yet stuff grew, and it grew hard. You fondly recall that enormous squash at your cousin’s farm, and the meter-tall cabbages that your father grew...

You gaze at your watch, quarter to 10:40 AM. Folks had less than 8 hours to rest, which was more than enough. It was going to be hard to pass the time however, most of your group had fallen asleep almost immediately out of exhaustion, and the rest who could be awake you had already ordered to stand watch and patrol the village. Perhaps a good walk was in order, and so you went out those double doors and into the ruins.

The place had been somewhat shelled, but even small amounts of bombardment would’ve destroyed much of the stone and wood buildings, the building you had selected seemed to be luckily, fairly untouched by the bombardment. You turn a corner, and are greeted with... A corpse, female. Already are maggots infesting the innards of the cadaver, and fetid smell of decay lingers in the air. You take note of the gash in the corpse’s lower abdomen, and a quick look around reveals a pile of maggots nearby. You let out a single ‘tsk’ and shake your head at the display of barbarity, whose magnitude has been fully revealed. Leaving the two carcasses, you return with a shovel, a stone, and a nail.

You quickly get to work, digging up the dirt road and unceremoniously dumping the corpses into the rectangular hole, you make sure they aren’t curled up, getting maggots on your hands in the process, but worse things have happened on them. Eventually you finish the deed. The rock you had is now at the head of the grave, ‘Mother and Child’ the carving on it says. “Ahornah ymg ch'naii mgee, or'azath shuggoth.” A last rite used by your usual run-of-the-mill Rusklandr.

You resume your walk, and almost immediately after turning into a major street for this small town, you are bombarded with a withering barrage of offensive foetors. A whole street, lined with cadavers in various stages of decay, some you can identify, others look like a pile of flesh and bones with a smattering of maggots and flies. You exhale a deep one out of your nostrils, looks like you’ve found something to pass the time, as unpleasant as it is. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” You say to yourself as you begin digging graves and telling a few men to get you rocks, and a couple stay around to help you with the grave digging.

Time flies when one is occupied with something they are concentrating on, and a quick glance at your watch reveals the time, it is now 5:46 PM, and it’s getting darker by the minute. The last grave is dug and the corpse for it buried by 5:57, and your job is complete. Nearly six hours of digging graves for strangers. Nearly six hours’ worth of corpses.

Your return to the building sends the various waking soldiers upright and ready to go, “Alright men, this little stay has been smooth sailing, but now is the time to leave.” you declare to everyone, your voice managing to recall everyone with its loudness, “We’ll be heading out of the northern street of this place, headcount, now!”. And they all line up in neat lines of 13. “Looks like we’re all accounted for, platoon, on me.”. The 27-man group set out, with you at its head. These travels bring you and them wading through rivers, traversing hills and rocky outcroppings, and into small stretches of woods.

Eventually you arrive at the first leg of your journey, the grassy hills. “Alright men, you all know the plan?” A reply in the form of a chorus of ‘yes’es, ‘yep’s, and ‘aye’s confirms this, then a lance corporal speaks up, “We informed them of your plan as clearly as possible sir.”. “Good.” You quickly reply, then you beckon for them to split up into three groups of nine, one group contains only eight men, and you quickly join it to complete the division. “Remember, avoid scouts at all costs and move slowly as to prevent getting spotted.” You remind them, “Kill and prevent escape if cornered, good luck and god speed, I’ll see you all on the other side.”.

And so it began.

---

Back at the bar...

“You know,” the veteran suddenly interrupts himself, “That was a pretty uneventful stretch of hill. Barely any scouts around, we could just walk on over to the other side.”. He sips from his mug, “I think we shanked about...” he slows down, uncertainty evident in his tone, “I think... Nah we definitely just killed six men, and coincidentally, it was two men per group!”. He chuckles “Now isn’t that quite interesting?” he says in-between chuckles, “Some of the more superstitious ones thought it an omen. Quite amusing really, now, where were we?”. Another sip from the mug, “Ah yes, the end of the hilly zone and then into the forest, quite... Interesting to say the least, that place.”. You seem to have a slight hunch on what “interesting” meant for him.

Another mug of strong alcohol gone, for him anyway, he slides it over to be refilled. “See, that forest had a house occupied by a bunch of Hoosier scouts to be used as a forward ops base.” he resumes, “And by the time we had entered the forest, I assume it was a full house, and they were about to do some patrols, that would explain the fact that we faced a lot of Hoosiers while traversing the woods. But maybe we shouldn’t have killed them.” His face darkens, it seems like his killings in there started a chain of events that caused him much grief. “We killed all of them, yes... But we should’ve buried the bodies.”. A mug arrives, filled to the brim with the strong stuff, Sheridan Maugham could hold his alcohol masterfully. “Now... If I recall correctly...”.

---

A forest in Manchuko
Gurgling and muffled screams of a dying man, that’s what you hear as you sink your knife into the back of a scout’s neck while covering his mouth. You quickly take the fresh corpse into a bush to hide any evidence of your presence. Although you don’t see them, you know that they are there, the rest of your 9-man team, “Just like that sirs, nice clean kills,” you tell them, “That’s how you make them quiet. Now let’s get a move on, we could possibly extract information from potential prisoners.”. So you continued, moving slowly with a knife in hand, and a pistol in the other, just in case. Your advance leads you to a clearing surrounding a path, there are two scouts guarding. Perhaps there was something important nearby?

“You, private,” you point at said private, a fish-like man, getting close enough and you would find out that he smelt like the food as well, a sneaky bastard this one, “Use the woods as cover and get to the other side near that soldier, the signal you’ll send me is a thumbs up, I’ll take the one nearest to us to distract him from your presence. Go!”. The man nods, and slowly walks around the clearing, you see him navigating through the bushes and thickets as quiet as a shark in the water. Eventually he gets to the closest possible distance to the enemy on the other side of the road, and raises a thumbs up, showtime!

You close in quietly, and when the man turns his back on the bushes you’re hiding in, you strike. From your perspective, it seems instantaneous, you pounce on the man, slit his throat and cover his mouth, all the while the other man sees you, all in what seems to be a mere millisecond. At the end of this acceleration of time, you see that the private has also taken care of his own package. You raise a thumbs up, and both of you pull the corpses into the bushes. The entire group then reconvenes at the center of the clearing.

“Alright, this confirms it, there’s something important nearby.” Another private pipes up, you nod in response. “Indeed, now let’s get that something and beat the shit out of it, aye?”. Your group is on the move once more, this time diverging from the original plan to follow this path in front of you. A two-minute walk, and at the end of it, is a cabin in the woods. Lights are on, almost all of them are from non-electronic sources. You take point and peek over a window and into the inside the main room, about five people in that room alone, who knows how many are in the house total. You tell your troops to approach quietly and peek at the windows. They do this, and you find out that there’s a total of 20 people in the house, they have the numbers advantage.

But you have the element of surprise.

It’s a bloody massacre when your plan is put into action, seeing PPD-26 submachine guns spray 9x19mm hot lead into each room, through their windows, while at the main door where you’re at is breached, a machine gunner providing suppressing fire with his DLMG, laying waste to many an enemy. After a massive spray of bullets, you lead the charge, spitting out 8x57mm rifle rounds with your semi-automatic rifle, the latest of its kind in the Confederacy.

One by one do they fall, and only then it is revealed that there were more than 20 people inside the cabin. Nevertheless, the push continues with you as the speartip, and in the end, the house is captured alongside a couple of prisoners. All at the cost of one Corporal Janos Szekely, whom you had buried outside the house along with a tombstone to mark him, by a small clearing in the bushes.

Now it was time to open the Pandora’s Box of your mind, and there was no hope to be found at the bottom. You take a look at the seven prisoners your men were able to capture out of the 33 men total. You simply give them a grin, “Gentlemen, you have been having fun without us, on these Nihonese.” you began, “And now, if your fun was simply children’s play, this will be a theatrical performance of sublime entertainment.”. A gaze over to a soldier, “Bring me my tools, we’ll create a delightful symphony!”. You return your look over to the seven bound on their knees, “I know some of you have something to live for back home, and so I will ask...” a pregnant pause, before you sucker punch what seems to be a Hoosier private, square in the jaw, dazing him, “Where are the rest of you? Where are the locations of your brothers-in-arms, where are they all?”. The response is something warm coming down your cheek, spit.

Your grin changes into a full smile, “See that lads? He’s quite the cocky one ain’t he?” You joke. “Go to whatever hell you go to, you fucking squid,” the private replies, and is cheered on by his companions, “We’ll never tell you anything, not a single thing. Do, your, WORST!”. You simply smile in response, “Perhaps you meant to say: “Do your best”, rather than worst,” your reply, “We are making a performance after all, we can’t afford any poor acts. And so I accept your challenge.”. You sigh, beckoning a trooper to get you a bucket of the hottest coals, “Alas, you are merely a private, the weakest link,” the coals, as requested, arrive, and they are very warm, “Poor actors cannot get to play in my theater.”. Pointing at the private, you order two men to beat him up so his mouth can open, he’s an enduring one, but all men break in the end.

His mouth forced open, you shove the burning coal into the man’s mouth and tell your men to seal it. He squirms helplessly as you kick his stomach and punch his face. “Sing for me. Sing!” You speak over your onslaught of blows upon the man, and eventually you grow bored, “Bring me something to cut tongues with.” you whisper to another soldier, who simply nods, “I grow bored, release the man’s mouth.” And that they did, and the man hunched, sending the now cooled but still warm coal slowly into the floor and onto your feet, along with a lot of spit, “Simply disgusting.” A kick to the chin for good measure. “Sir, the tool you requested.” Ah there he was, with the thick cutter. “Thank you Private, now, where were we? Ah yes, of course...” you tell the men by the Hoosier private to open his mouth up, “The second song!”.

You ripped and tore, until it was done. His gurgling screams were quite delightful, and the bloody tongue on the floor was good for intimidating the others. But you weren’t done, oh no, you were far from done. Taking another coal, you placed it in his mouth to cauterize the wound and cause him more suffering, more delicious suffering. Your enjoyment is interrupted by the arrival of the other two groups at the cabin, and upon rechecking the prisoners again you give two for each group to extract information from, “Use any means possible.”. As for your remaining actors, you water boarded the private until he could no longer breathe, killing him.

“And that my friends,” you speak cheerily to the remaining POWs, “Is Act One of my tripartite theater play.”. This sends them whimpering as they know you aren’t done with them just yet. “Dearest friends, your pain brings a delightful taste to the tongues of our gods, and soothes the aches in their abyssal bellies.” You were about to finish saying “bellies” before something warm slides down your chin again, spat at again? “Actors, do you not know of the position you are in?” You say, only for one man to spit at your feet in defiance, “Fuck you and your gods and your people! We’ll kill them all just like we did the Nihonese!” He shouts, “We’ll do worse to yours than we did the Nihonese, FUCK YOU!”. Oh, now he’s done it. “Good sir, I ask for your name.”.

“Lucas Flagstaff, Iron Shirt officer,” he replies, “Captain Bolton will flay you slowly! He’ll make you wish you were never even conceived as an idea in the minds of your parents!”. You simply smirk, “If that’s what he does, I’ll make sure that you will curse the names of your parents, your grandparents, and all of your ancestors, for the fact that they allowed you to exist,” you reply, “You will curse all of them for letting this pain that I will bestow upon you happen. You will curse them in the realms beyond, you will curse them throughout the age, you will curse them to the end of ages, and the pain will forever be with you, always.”. “Knife, private. Something capable of surgical cuts.” You say after you gaze at said private, then you place your gaze back upon the Iron Shirt, “You will tell us everything, and we will take every measure necessary to ensure that this happens. And we will escalate.”.

---

The bar, again...
“Oh how the symphony was perfect,” Sheridan says with tints of ecstasy in his voice, disturbing ecstasy, “The way I flayed his genitalia, I don’t believe I have reached such notes in any of my scores before. But it is an axiom with us Occultists, to reach for the stars, and I reached them there, that glorious paradoxical union of cacophony and symphony, a union of the perfect forms of both worlds. My blood was pumping hard from my heart then!”.

He then sees your disturbed look, “Makes me no better than them? That is where you are wrong,” he picks up a piece of glass from the floor, and points it at you, “Oh I am more than better, if theirs was a masterpiece, mine was an otherworldly creation made by the hands of gods. They killed innocents! So I slaughtered them just like they slaughtered the Nihonese! Compared to them, I am a fucking saint!” The glass piece is pressing hard on your neck, much so that it has drawn blood slightly, fortunately for you, no vital veins have been sundered.

The barkeep makes his presence known with the slamming of two mugs of strong alcoholic drink on the tabletop, “Maugham, quit that out or you’ll be booted from the only place you can get a drink.”. This seems to have the desired effect, as he loosens his grip on the glass and lets it fall upon the floor, “Sorry, I was carried away by that,” he glares at you, “Don’t do that again, you got that?”. You nod hesitantly, but he takes it and resumes, “Now, where were we? Ah yes, the opera in the cabin,” he makes a joke, shaking his head at the lack of laughs, “Eventually they all broke, and we all learned what we needed to learn.”. His face darkens, an indicator that he made a mistake, “I let one go, a mere private, whom we had carved a message on his back,” he downs his drink, “’Come,’ the message had said, and the events that came crashing down upon us soon after, made me learn. When you kill, leave no bodies and no survivors.”

---

Manchuko, Red Zone
The forest had been cleared, and they were now in the middle of the red zone. The only leg left in the group’s journey to safety was the bridge, after that was the yellow, and safety, and freedom from all this madness. A quick check at the clock, 4:53 AM, you spent too much time enjoying the flesh in a radically different manner back in the cabin, perhaps a rest was in order. As you, along with the rest of your troop trudge along the dirt path, light dawns and reveals sunrise.

“Fuck, we can’t continue like this...” you whisper to yourself, you stop the march to get on top of a rock as a little update is in order, “Alright folks, there should be a village by this path. We cannot continue as sunrise has arrived, so consider this a quick rest. No sleeping before 6:00 AM for preparations, that is all.”. And the march resumes, and what do you know, the town came into view, a smoldering ruin, much of it. At around 5:12 after you reach a hill’s summit, you also could see the bridge faintly, nearly two miles away from your vantage point. “Scout out the town, there could be Hoosier scouts as the bridge is nearby.” you order, “Kill them all encountered, and guns free, they can’t hear us from there”.

It takes almost 40 minutes to flush the town clean of any Hoosier soldiers, there were apparently 50 enemy men they had encountered in the town, but in the end, they are all taken down at the expense of 3 of your own. You dig them a grave on the hilltop, and upon your return to the new temporary base (an inn), it is almost 6:05 already. Many have already fallen asleep, but the more alert ones keep an eye out for remaining enemy troops. 50 they had killed, out of 92 men in total. Here’s to hoping that they wouldn’t notice for long enough that they could sneak out to the bridge by nightfall.

As for yourself, you would rest now. Taking a modestly sized room, you move your eyes around to tire yourself out. Then the shoggoth count begins, and soon you find yourself slowly slipping into the paradoxical dim and bright realm of dreams. From an outside perspective, you’re falling asleep, a deep one at that…

…

…

“彼は眠っていますか？” a girl

…

“はい…” a boy

Years of being in close contact with Nihonese and being forced to cooperate with them has given you an understanding of their language, and you clearly heard: “Is he asleep?”. Appears that you weren’t alone in the room, some refugees have been waiting for a chance to get out. They sounded like kids, and this fact’s implications were quite disturbing. You keep your facade of sleep, and the moment they approach the door and open, you strike. “私があなたなら私はそれをしません…” And hearing them freeze in place was quite amusing. You rise up from the bed and face them with a smirk. “You can understand us?” The boy says incredulously and you simply “tsk” and nod. “Kids these days,” you say, “Don’t you know its rude to sneak up on people?”.

“And don’t try to make a run for it kid,” you say to the girl who’s slowly edging her hand to the knob, “Outside’s teeming with guards, damn Hoosiers screwing everything up.”. You begin to dress up in the room’s bathroom, “Now I know you kids don’t trust me,” you pipe up from the bathroom, “But I’m your best bet at getting out of this godforsaken place.”. You come out fully dressed, then take a quick glance at your watch, 3:12 in the afternoon, “You two were sleeping when I came here, didn’t you?” their shifting gazes and quiet “No...”s made their lies obvious, “No need to lie to me, you’ve got nothing to earn from it. Besides...” Your gaze turned predatory, “You do know you’re at my complete mercy at the moment?” And, it appears that terrifying presence worked, as you can hear whimpering. Shaking your head, you head on over to the work desk in the room.

“No need to panic now, if you think that I’ll hang you bloody from the trees like those Hoosiers and Parsi, let me tell ya, we’ll do worse only to the sinner,” you gaze at them, they’re still quite intimidated by you, but they had a slight tinge of confusion, “You don’t know what a Hoosier or Parsi is?” Heads shaking, “What about Skartenian? Crimer? Aydiniri?” More heads shaking, and the girl tilted to the side slightly. You sigh and rub your temple, “Alright, it seems that you two are behind on many things, bet you don’t even know much of the outside world beyond your village,” you tell them, “No issues, gather round the bed, I’ll tell you as much as I can...”.

“A Hoosier is similar to us in terms of looks, the only difference being the fact that most of them don’t have beards, and they speak mostly Aclusian, or English.” They nod at this, then the boy speaks up. “I- I saw the Who... Hoosiers...” he trails off as his eyes slowly start to water, “They burned down my village.”. You smile at him, “Not to worry kid,” you deftly reply, “There’s a bigger monster in town, and he don’t like the smaller ones, not, one bit.”.

The explanations of the various people attacking and events taking place took you quite a while and soon it is evident that dusk was approaching. They seem to have warmed up to you by now, somewhat. “Right, come with me you two,” you tell them as you get off the bed and open the door, “There’s an empty room across mine, should have a bed large enough for you two. Come on.”. You leave the room, the two kids trailing after, the door is right across the other side of the hallway, across yours. A soldier spots you and asks what you’re doing with these kids, “Found the buggers hiding under my bed,” you respond in Rusklandr, “Poor things, probably hiding from the Hoosiers.”. He nods in response and goes to wherever he was going to.

The door is then opened, and you switch on a light, illuminating the dark room and the dim hallway just outside, all lights were to be turned off as to prevent anyone from noticing and suspecting a thing. “Right, here’s your room,” you tell them in Nihonese as they clamber up the bed, “Say, you two never really told me your names, I’ll start. Name’s Sheridan Maugham, just call me Sherman for short.”. They look at each other warily, then the boy nods and he speaks up, “Yamamura Natsuhisa, sir.” The boy replies, then the girl as well, “Kanou Yuuki, sir.”. You give them the stink eye, “No sirs here, never been one for formality as a kid,” you answer them as you switch off the light, “Now, don’t turn on a single, light. Got that? You don’t want Hoosiers jumping on our asses now, do we?” Frantic nodding. “That’s good, now, go don’t wander around and stay here unless I tell you otherwise or something happens, alright?” More nodding. You walk out into the hallways.

Then into a bar of sorts, tables and chairs are scattered about, some upturned, and broken bottles are strewn about the room. The light is dim, coming from a few candles only. A lance corporal closes into your side, a worried look on his face. “We’ve checked the bridge out, its filled to the brim with them, about fifty men!” He whispers quickly in a distinct accent, “How are we going to get past that sir? All of us fording the river’s going to make us stick out like nails.”. You look at him with a hard stare, and a smirk, “Shock and awe lance corporal, fake a mass assault there at the front and the rest of you can ford the river in the night,” you quickly respond as you find a chair to seat yourself on, “You’ll lead the backdoor force and the rest of us will assault the front, and we hammer and anvil them, tomorrow night.”. He nods warily before taking his leave, and you rummage around the bar for a drink, and find a bottle of this rice wine, sake as those Nihonese called it. “Better than nothing...”

You must’ve downed at least five bottles out of need for alcohol before you decided to stop, as the drunkenness was setting in but was still manageable, wouldn’t want to be drunk for the big operation tomorrow now do we? Although you f-feel like, you’re about to uh… Pass out, b-better get to a room…

Hmm, left or right? You c-chose the right door, and simply plop yourself on the bed to the chagrin of… A pair of things… So sleepy…

…

You wake up with a jolt, and to the sound of distant gunshots. The kids are still asleep, but they appeared like they were about to wake up any moment now. “Shit, what happened while I was out?” And his response is a soldier entering the room, and with a distressed face, not good. “Sir, we need to get ready to go to the bridge at nightfall,” he begins, “The Hoosiers are engaging the Nihonese just nearby, and all of them are on high alert right now.” You simply nod and straighten out your clothes, and when you stand up to leave for the door, the two children wake up, groggily.

“Had a good night’s sleep?” You ask them, and they give you unamused stares. The boy sighs, “Thanks to you, we never got a good sleep,” he complained, then hopped off the bed, “You just flopped onto our beds and forced us to curl up to sleep.” You put a hand on the back of your head, and chuckle sheepishly. “Ahah, sorry bout that, promise that it won’t happen again,” you say in response with a grin, which quickly gives way to a serious look, “On more pressing matters, you two ready to stay up all night? We’re leaving for the bridge on 2300, you two rest for the whole day.”

Nodding all around, and a raised hand from the girl, “What’s 2300?” She asks with a look of confusion, and you let out a brief sigh. “Military time, it means 11:00 PM, or in a 24-format, 23:00, you get?” you explain and she nods her head in understanding, “Good, now rest up, we have a long night ahead of us, you two can sleep off any tiredness you have all afternoon if you want.” Definite grins on both of their tired faces, and they flop back into the bed to finally have that good sleep you accidentally stole from them. “On that note, no more alcohol for a time.”

A quick last check in the mirror, then you leave the room for the makeshift planning room in the former bar. You pass by many of your men, each of them a different face but always had that same expression in varying intensities: trepidation, as if something just wasn’t right, and indeed, you felt that something was wrong, but everything always was wrong. Assume the worst and do your best, beat up all the rest, after all. After a few moments of walking, you arrive at the bar, now slightly less disheveled than before, with all the tables being merged into a larger one in the center with the usage of wooden planks and some pulled out nails.

Your appearance has a profound effect on the men, with their doubting faces visibly lightening up at your presence, that’s good, low morale was always great when it wasn’t around, and with this operation he was planning, high morale would be needed, desperately needed. “Everyone remember our plan?” ‘aye’s all around, a good sign, but a refresher wouldn’t hurt anyone, “Well, I’m sure some of you lot forgot while you were off in dream land.” You hear sheepish muttering and murmuring, you were right.

“Right, as a refresher, I will be leading fifty percent of our troops to attack the front of the bridge,” you tell them slowly so they can understand easily, “And as the rest of you, there are three points where you lot can ford the river, the remaining fifty percent will split into three groups and ford one of the points, then you regroup at this rocky outcropping,” you encircle an area on the map just across three smaller circles on a river, “After this, you attack the rear of the bridge, hammer and anvil. YOU LOT GET THAT?” You shout at the end, and get a definite response in the form of a thundering “SIR YES SIR!”

You nod, “Alright, we’ll be heading out for the bridge at 2300,” you quickly add, “So I expect all of you to have the energy for this operation, so rest but be alert. We might have Hoosiers retreating here if they lose. Dismissed!” And they quickly scatter like dust in the wind, and you yourself sat down on a chair, and let your mind wander.

Hours pass without much of note, and it isn’t your mind that just wanders, but your body as well. You take a walk around the place, taking note of its various nooks and crannies, exploring as much ground as you can cover, and occasionally looking into the room of those two kids you’ll rescue from this godforsaken place. Oh great, they’re growing on you, just like how those many others in the 9th did, and they all died.

Perhaps it was because of you?
Of course, it was all your fault.
You’re the one at fault, you killed them.
Don’t you see? You filthy murderer?

…

“No, I didn’t.” You say to yourself as you depart to wander some more, but deep inside the seeds of doubt prosper, and so does guilt. You soon end up inside your room, and you mull over the various things floating about in your mind, did you kill them? Was it a mistake taking those two in? Can you save anyone close to you? Will you even try to?

…

Night gathers, and preparations begin. 10:58 on your watch quickly shifts to 10:59 with the longest hand’s crossing of 12. “Everyone ready?” You yell out to everyone, and you get the same response, overwhelming yes of the wholehearted variety, with some halfhearted here and there, not a single no anywhere. You simply nod, then you remember the kids, “You lot wait here until I return, I have two rascals to get.” And you quickly leave, a check of the watch and you see the longest hand at the halfway position at 6. You arrive at the room where they’re at, and quickly bust the door open, waking them up into a groggy state. “Come on you two, hurry up, up and at em!” you pull both of them with your hand onto their feet, quickly getting them out of their groggy state of mind, “Come on come on! We’re moving out you two, don’t get left behind while we do!”

“Alright alright! We’re up, we’re up.” he grouchily responds, “Kanou-san, get ready.” And you sigh once more, not in exhaustion, but out of slight sadness. “I’m afraid that you two will be going with me in the assault on the bridge,” you say to them much to their shock, “But the good news is, you two will be at the middle-back of the formation, well defended and near enough for you two to be safe from rear attacks, now let’s go.” A check of the watch, already 11:02. “We’ve wasted too much time, come on now, brisk pace you two.”

Another minute passes before you arrive at the place, and they have already split into two groups, those who’ll join you and those who’ll ford the river. You approach another lance corporal, a Haida man, and a private you grew somewhat close to in those times on the other side of Indianum. A reliable man, “You, command the middle-rear side of our formation,” you tell him, “And take care of these two, I don’t want them hurt in any way, you get that?” He simply nods and says “okay” in response. A simple man as well.

I gaze at the two children by me, kneeling so that my head is at their height, “You two stay with this man alright?” I tell them, and they nod, although I can see some doubting in their faces, “You can trust him, I know I can, he has a large family to go back to. Now run along.” They quickly go to the man who has a flat expression on his face, which, upon you looking back to quickly check on them, has changed into a faint but clear smile. “Alright lads, let’s go kick some ass?” I raised my voice at the last syllable, and they too raised their voices in a single ‘aye!’. We soon headed out for the bridge.

I noticed that the sounds of battle were growing fainter and fainter, and by the time the group split into two in accordance to the plan, the sounds had stopped outright. “I don’t like this...” You whisper to yourself as the bridge comes into view. “Everyone,” you clearly say in a quiet tone of voice to your group, “Ready your guns, we’re heading in.” The bridge was clearly visible, as were the lamps around it, and the faint silhouettes of Hoosier soldiers.

It was a metal bridge, somewhat rusted, but capable of letting heavy equipment through without giving way to the strain, and the only one of its kind for a considerable distance, which made it valuable for Hoosier operations around these parts of the countryside. There was a grove of trees growing on your side of the bridge along with some bushes, allowing for a surprise attack, not to mention, with the battle nearby, some troops must’ve been pulled out to fight, explaining the subtle quietness of the bridge, although it seemed like it was a bit too quiet...

A check of your watch reveals that you have walked for about two hours as it was now 1:05 AM, with any luck, your troops could finish off the bridge before dawn. Taking position by the tree nearest to the bridge, you call up the sharpshooters of your group for a quick taking out of those by the bridge. You yourself had some experience shooting at far distances, as grandpa had taken you out for some hunting trips to the forests on the edge of the Breadbasket, and gave you a hunting rifle when you could handle the recoil. “You lot ready?” you say to the group, who you see are already aiming at a target, and you too, have aimed for one at the furthest that you can shoot, “Fire!”

Gunshots fill the air, as does panicked screaming and confused shouting mere moments later. About ten have been taken down in the initial volley, and in the disorganized shooting later, that number grows to more than twice that. Eventually, they erect a resistance and begin shooting back at your positions, now it was time for your other subgroup, those with the sub-machine guns, to work their job. Quickly they split into two more groups, and go into opposite directions to sneak up to the Hoosiers’ positions, and by the time they arrive, around five had been gunned down by your sharpshooters.

Even more gunshots fill the air, along with an increased amount of screams and shouts, not to mention gurgling as soldiers are turned into mincemeat with the firing of PPD-26s. Eventually the frontal resistance is eroded and your group moves into the bridge, with less cover and more resistance from soldiers from the other side of the bridge arriving. Around an hour and a half pass before you rout much of them, and mopping up whatever is left. Although a quick look at the enemy soldiers being routed reveals not a true rout but more of a semi-organized retreat…

Enemy reinforcements, those fighting at the battle must’ve come back! Soon a withering hail of gunfire from a machine gun comes and your group is forced to create makeshift covers with dead corpses, scattered sandbags, and whatever else you can pile up to make barriers. Over the intermittent machine gun fire, you can hear distinct sounds of fighting, “The troops fording the river,” a soldier says, reminding you, “They’re getting slaughtered!” And whose fault is that I wonder? A trepidatious hour of gunfire and somewhat distant conflict passes, before it grows silent, awfully so.

A peek over the barricades, and you see a man with a flag of parley. Although his smile is discomforting. “Greetings! I am Iron Shirt Captain Joseph Bolton, commander of these troops and those you killed back in Forest 9, I must say, that is some impressive handiwork coming from you savage lot.” He announces to your group, and much of what he says distresses you much, had they discovered what you were doing in ‘Forest 9’ as they called it? “Unfortunately, those were good fighting men you killed, men with families to go back to.” some families then, considering their brutality, “And thus I ask for your surrender, or death, or even both. Right now I have an entire battery of artillery trained on this bridge.” He wouldn’t da- “Now I know what some of you brighter lot are thinking, “Why would he destroy such an important bridge?” Well, our engineers are more than capable of constructing a bridge, why, there are three spots where we we could build one, right next to this rickety old place.”

You can faintly hear it, but he is tapping his feet, slowly. “So what’s it going to be? Are you going to die, or are you going to surrender?” strange, he mentioned death first, “Many Nihonese would suggest not surrendering, but I actually implore you lot, surrender, please! I would like to enjoy something out of this encounter, yes, yes, your screams will be most enjoyable, the info you may have, even more so.”

You find a spot where you can aim your rifle and fire without getting spotted yourself, and you slowly crouch to that place. “Now, on the count of three, I better see hands.” aim, ready, and fire, “On- GAH!” Countdowns are so cliché, but unfortunately, a strong wind suddenly blowing moves your bullet directly to his left shoulder, where the joint is. Man won’t have an arm now, but that was not the point right now. “EVERYONE JUMP OFF THE BRIDGE NOW, DROP YOUR GUNS!” You suddenly shout, and many of your troops quickly sprint for the edges of the bridge, many being gunned down by machine gun and other miscellaneous fire.

As for yourself, you rushed to the back of the formation, and as you did, while men were rushing to the edges of the crossing, you hear a distant explosion. “QUICKLY!” you yell to your men over the gunfire, “ARTILLERY HAS BEEN FIRED!” You reach the two children you rescued, and the body of the dead lance corporal, as well as the weeping of the two children. You give them no thought, picking them up and placing them on your shoulders, the fact that you’re close to the rear of the quickly disappearing formation helps in not getting hit by machine gun fire.

So close to the edge, so close-

An explosion…

Its all so fuzzy, you fall and fall in the midst of broken metal and asphalt, and with the searing heat of artillery shells exploding right behind you. Your eyes widen, and you shout something, but… You can’t hear anything but ringing. The water grows closer, and you shout ever louder, although how can you be so sure? There’s nothing but ringing.

Eventually, darkness consumes you…

---

The bar
“I can’t remember anything past that point,” he tells you as he concludes his tale, “Anything past that point in Manchuko, I can’t...” The veteran has already placed both of his hands on his head, his headache clear. The barkeep has already left, with the keys being on the counter, and there is no alcohol to relieve him from the pain. Now, it was time, for you to speak up. “Would you like some help in remembering?” You ask him, and he stares at you, and you take that as a yes. You tell him to stay put as you’ll grab something.

Outside, a case lies hidden on the ground, and you quickly pick it up. After that, you reenter the bar, and open it on top of the countertop. And you see him slowly change the position of his long gaze from you to the contents of the case. A Pendragon SAR, and a Standard Issue Pistol. “Your guns,” you say to him, “Major Sheridan Maugham.” He’s clearly distressed, as he backs off and falls on the floor, on his arse, “I- I can’t go back, please,” he shakes his head with eyes clenched shut, tears threatening to come out of them, “Please, don’t let me come back, I don’t wanna go back, I can’t. PLEASE!” He is shaking as he backs away from you.

You approach him with ease, and place a hand on his shoulder. “Come on man, you have unfinished business,” you pull him up to his feet and onto his seat, “So many loose ends, about time you tightened those up.” He sniffles in response and slams his hand on the counter. “And what do you know?” he angrily responds, and his hands are clearly trembling, “Of any loose ends that I may have?”

You grin as you respond, “Simple, I saved your ass and smuggled myself here after the war,” you quickly reply, “I shadowed you for many years waiting for the right time to approach, and here you are.” He gives you an unamused glare that grows in intensity as you keep on speaking, and would be withering if not for your ability to ignore such things, “So, you were stalking me around like some hunter, were you?” You shake your hands in a defensive way, “Oh, don’t be alarmed, I had your best interests at heart, as you had mine all those years before.”

He pauses at your statement, and his hand quickly rubs his head, “No, it can’t be, nobody survived that, I was saved by a y-young man...” as he quickly changes his gaze from the floor to your face, his voice quickly cracks and he begins to slowly tear up, “All these years, I’ve had this crushing guilt crashing on me every day, ruining my reintegration back into the Confederacy, but now? Now I know what’s been causing it, now… Now I remember, and I remember well.” He has risen up from his chair, and gives you a genuine albeit tight hug, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I could not save any of them,” you feel a moistness on your back, tears, “I could not save her.”

“Yeah, its me, Natsu,” you hug him back, “And its not your fault, its that bastard’s. That Iron Shirt.” You both stand up, and you point a hand over to the case, beckoning him to take either of the weapons.

“And I’ve found him,” you inform him, “And you know the drill do you not?” You see him stare at the case, and boy does he stare long…

What seems to be an eternity passes, then he picks up the weapon, the pistol to be exact, with a fire you haven’t seen for many, many years blazing in his eyes.

“Let’s get back into business, shall we?”

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Manchuko, 1929
Iron Shirt Captain Bolton looked out across the field as his men celebrated their victory. Nihonese partisans had attempted to stage a raid on a small Hoosier supply convoy. Luckily, Bolton and his men were nearby, occupying a Nihonese village and employing some of Bolton's favorite methods of preventing civil unrest.

Forty-two Nihonese lay dead in the field, without a single Hoosier casualty. Mobs of poorly armed civilians tend to not fare well against trained soldiers hardened through combat.

Bolton was content to allow his men to loot the corpses until he was interrupted by a young soldier. The man was out of breath and had clearly been running as fast as he could.

"S-sir," he stuttered, trying to breathe, "The bridge...is...under attack. Not...not partisans...real sol...soldiers."

Bolton patted the man on the shoulder. "Good work, son," he said, oddly calm. He turned to face his men and shouted, "Mount up boys. We're needed back at the bridge!"


Several minutes later, Bolton and his force had returned to the bridge. Men trying to cross the river had been spotted, and several teams were dispatched to take care of them. Gunfire from farther down the river bank pointed to their success.

Bolton made an offer to the attackers, one that would lead to hours worth of entertainment for him and his men. It was refused with a bullet.

His men immediately opened fire, and the nearby mortar teams began to bombard the bridge. Many of the attackers tried to jump over the edge into the water. Most were cut down by mortar fire or rifles. Those that remained on the bridge and fought back were cut down with ease. Those that tried to surrender were taken into custody. Hours of torment and pain awaited them.

A few had managed to jump into the water were pursued. Several were shot as they rode the current down the river. A few were fished from the water. Those that were found themselves lined up and escorted back to the bridge. Bolton, his arm wrapped in bandages, looked them over. Most were fighting men, Rusklanders it appeared; however, there was one who stood out.

A young girl, no older than eleven or twelve, stood, shivering. Bolton pointed to her and said, "Send her to the camps with the others."

They dragged the screaming girl to the convoy of trucks that had arrived with reinforcements. The men were escorted to Bolton's pleasure room. Their eyes widened in fear when they saw the assortment of tools lining the walls. Tonight, Bolton would have some fun.



Yuuki cried as she rode in the back of the truck. They had been driving for hours. When they finally stopped, the sun had risen and set. They dragged her out and began to march her to a fenced-in camp, filled with guards. Inside, she was given new clothes, a bunk, and was left with all the other Nihonese children.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Vicuna
Middenland
Manticore
1929 June 3

The Nihonese delegation had landed in Manticore, and would soon work in discussions over the peace agreement. Headed by Minister of Foreign Affairs Baron Kijuro Shidehara, known for his pro-Manticorian reputation, and former Ambassador Katsuji Debuchi, the delegation was prepared to finally bring peace between Nihon and Manticore.

Catherine greeted Baron Shidehara and Ambassador Debuchi, alongside Secretary of State Alfonso Ashburn. With pleasantries out of the way, she brought the Nihonese delegation to the State Department building, where they proceeded to hash out an agreement. The treaty was quite favorable to Manticore, Breyburg, and Rachana and Catherine was pleased with it. She did not, however, share her one concern. Parliament. The Commons had been vocal in the last few days with their displeasure regarding the peace attempt and she knew that she depended on them to get it approved. She'd called in favors and pulled every string she possibly could. It looked to her that the vote would be a tight one but she was at least a little confident that Parliament would be in favor.

The Treaty of Peace between the Empire of Nihon and the Allied States of Breyburg, the Empire of Manticore, and the Kingdom of Rachana

Article One: The Signatory Powers agree to an immediate cessation of hostilities and the Empire of Nihon shall immediately withdraw all Naval, Land, Air, and special forces from the territories of Breyburg, Rachana, and Manticore. The Allied States of Breyburg, Empire of Manticore, and Kingdom of Rachana shall make efforts to insure the repatriation of Nihonese citizens, be they civilian or military, to Nihon by the First of January 1930. The Empire of Nihon shall do the same for the citizens of Breyburg, Rachana, and Manticore.

Article Two: The Signatory Powers agree to a Pact of Non-Aggression in perpetuity and solemnly agree to take no actions that would infringe upon the sovereign territories of any Signatory Power.

Article Three: The Empire of Nihon shall cede the parts of Manchukuo currently occupied by the Empire of Manticore to the Empire and shall pay restitution to the Empire of Manticore, the Kingdom of Rachana, and the Allied States of Breyburg for property damages and loss of life.

Article Four: The Empire of Manticore, the Allied States of Breyburg, and the Kingdom of Rachana shall recognize Nihonese sovereignty over Nihonese Manchukuo and shall make no efforts to undermine Nihonese control in the territory.

Article Five: The Empire of Nihon shall, upon the cessation of hostilities with the other powers in the War, reduce its armed forces to not more than two million men in Naval, Air, Land, and Special forces and shall reduce its fleet to not more than 3/5ths the hulls and tonnage of the Manticoran Navy.

Article Six: The Empire of Manticore, the Allied States of Breyburg, and the Kingdom of Rachana shall pursue restitution for the alleged genocide of Manchu and Nihonese citizens in the Manticoran occupied Manchukuo.

Houses of Parliament
Vicuna
4 June 1929

The Speaker had finished reading the peace agreement. On the surface it was ample restitution. Nihon would pay monetary compensation for the lives lost, cede territory, reduce its military, and even enter a non-aggression pact with the Empire. But Carlisle didn't trust them. After all, they'd been willing to use their "allies" as cannon fodder before. Carlisle stood up as the Speaker opened the floor. "Mister Speaker, I respectfully request the floor." The aging man at the far end of the room nodded and said, "The Honorable MP from Allenvale has the floor." Carlisle walked to the pedestal in the center of the room and began speaking. "This treaty makes many promises. It promises that Nihon will pay us for the lost lives. It promises that Nihon will cede the territory that those lives purchased. It promises that we will return Nihonese citizens and investigate the alleged murder of Nihonese citizens in Manchukuo. Honorable MPs, why must we make such promises? Why must we promise to investigate and punish the deaths of Nihonese civilians without demanding the Nihonese do likewise? Nearly four thousand Manticorans were murdered when the Nihonese attacked Nuln. Tens of thousands have suffered hardships related to the Nihonese counterfeiting operation. How many millions of dollars have been lost to businesses and workers because of that effort? Is this agreement truly just recompense for that suffering?"

"What about the suffering of war, Mister Carlisle?" The new voice was a Quaker MP, the Honorable James Miln. He was always the loudest voice calling for peace. "More than seven million Manticorans were killed or maimed during the Great War. How many millions will die in this war? How many millions of families must suffer to avenge four thousand lives? Already the Army has returned to Manticore thirteen thousand caskets. Another twenty thousand men are in hospital. And the Nihonese virtually abandoned the region we fought for. Skarten, on the flank, lost nearly a million men in the same two months. Are we to expect our people to back such a cost in lives?"

Carlisle smiled. "The people demand it," he said, holding up a copy of the Vicuna Tribune. He flipped it to the front page and read, "Today's headline is 'Peace with Nihon at the price of Manticoran lives and dignity!' Are we truly to expect our people to stomach yet another slight to their pride? Are we truly to expect those thirty three thousand families to accept this small recompense? No. I say it again, no. The people don't want peace. They want blood. They want Nihonese blood. It is our job, as their representatives, to vote in their interest, not ours. And the people have spoken." The MPs began pounding their fists on the railings in front of their seats in agreement, leading Carlisle to shout, "I propose that not only should we vote against this agreement but that we vote into law a call to arms of all Manticorans to see the total destruction of the Nihonese Empire, so that it may never again threaten our people or their way of life!"

The vote was held on the peace treaty first. Carlisle and his pro-war faction held immense sway. They needed at least 876 votes to pass the treaty. The treaty only gained 77, all belonging to Miln's pro-peace Quakers. The vote on the call up was then held. It passed by the same margin. 1,383 to 77.

When Catherine received the news of Parliament's vote, she was devastated. Her one chance to save millions of lives was now gone, turned to ash by the wheels of democracy. Now, she had no choice but to lead the Empire into a war that would likely expand. The Aydinirian attack on Sapporo last month was likely to have killed Warglorians in the Embassy there and the presence of both Warglorian and Twelve Isles ships in Nihonese ports brought the specter of a second Global War. A war she had tried to prevent.

But now it was too late.

Across the Empire, the Army called up the reserves and began enlisting new recruits. Already the army had almost doubled in size, with more than 12 million men in some stage of mobilization. Millions more were enlisting and would further balloon the Army, with a goal by August to have mobilized 36 million men. As this was being done, the Nuwe Afrikaa Army Command formed the Third and Fourth Field Armies. The Fourth Field Army would remain in Nuwe Afrikaa to train new troops while the Third Field Army would take the existing units, totalling 10 Cavalry Divisions, 72 Infantry Divisions, and 20 Tank Brigades, to add to the existing 10 Tank Brigades, 10 Cavalry Divisions, and 48 Infantry Divisions. All told, the force would now be 6,295,825 by the end of August, shipped to the warzone in massive convoys, escorted by destroyers, cruisers, and some of the older battleships.

With manpower figured out, the Empire now turned to strategy. Those 6.3 million soldiers would be worth very little if the Empire couldn't put them to use. So, the Battle Fleet, currently with 42 super-dreadnought battleships and 12 dreadnought battleships, would join the Aydinirian fleet for an attack on the Nihonese. The remaining 8 battleships were relegated to convoy escorts alongside most of the destroyers. The Battle Fleet would retain 97 of its Destroyers and 5 of its Light Cruisers, with the remaining ships being sent to conduct convoy escort duties. This fleet would join the Aydinirian Navy to attack the Nihonese fleet in a decisive battle.

The Submarine force, meanwhile, began concerted efforts to attack Nihonese shipping. Ads were taken out in newspapers across the world, warning people not to sail along the lanes to Nihon, as those would be patrolled by submarines with orders to sink cargo vessels. Lone ships would be given the opportunity to evacuate. Ships in convoy, however, would merely be fired upon by submarine crews that knew their craft and knew it well.

On Manchukuo, the Army was cleared to continue aerial attacks against Nihon while the population of Almaty, relatively small as it was at just under 8 million people, began to put its efforts into defeating the Nihonese and aiding the Manticorans, who had brought stability and work to the region.

[Breyburg]

Ohio, Crimetopolis War Zone
May 28th, 1929

Defendere Delictum III

The night was quiet. Seemingly, the most silent it’s been in a while. Just a week ago, there had been constant gunfire ringing throughout the opal air. Now, all to be heard was the faint steps of deer and birds landing in trees. You could see the star’s quite clearly. Most of the constellations could be made out.

Their fire lit all who stood around it. Eyes glinting in the irregular beat of the flame seemed contemplative. The sheen of their weapons reflected off into the dark. No skirmishes had been reported for a couple days, which gave off the impression that the Crime had begun to gather forces nearer the capital. Still, the operations of gathering weapons from locals had proven successful, but there was still the constant thought of impending attack from any direction. The Crime forces had proved cunning that’s for sure, but merely lacked the support from behind that they needed. Breyburgian intelligence reported that the Crimetopolis was in total and complete turmoil and was expected to collapse in the very near future.

There was fighting, about 10 miles out from the capital, the official Crime last stand. The Breyburgian advance was slowly going, but powerfully at that. They would advance anywhere from a quarter of a mile to half a mile every week. They were to set up trenches and barricades, so that they could advance while maintaining the relative same amount of power. This was a similar late-war strategy that was used in the two Carriebean-Breyburg Wars.

Along the central coast of Crime, the Garduvan fleet dispatched to the fighting was barraging the coastal defense the Crime government had set up prior. It was meant to soften the enemy forces so the northern flank in Ohio could surround the Crime Capital.

The Nevada-class Battlecruiser, the SASS Ciburg, barraging the coast of Crimetopolis.

Current state of the Breyburgian advance/defense.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Presidential Offices/Legislative Palace, Stegas, Breyburg
May 26th, 1929

posters were plastered on every street corner shouting pleas of patriotism and righteousness. Pictures of Breyburgian troops in clean, full uniform standing attention said, “I would die for this land, would you?”, “Do your part, help in the fight!” and “It’s your duty as a countrymen, enlist today!” These campaigns had proved themselves effective in bringing the public to the attention of national defense. Yet still, the Breyburgian Military was beginning to see the blunt force of the Great Indianum War. The war’s end was on the conceivable horizon, but it still needed that extra push.
The Senate was set to a vote, a vote to put the first ever national draft to use. The bill authorizes the drafting, training and mobilizing of 2% of the population, 4,409,444 men. This would offer around 4 full Field Armies. The Bill was put to vote on May 26th, 1929.

The Breyburgian Senate.

1929 Breyburgian Draft, 2%
Yea: 20
Nay: 8

The bill had been passed at 20 Yea votes. The first ever Breyburgian draft had just been authorized.

Along with these almost 4 full Field Armies, President Martin Harvey authorized the calling forth and mobilizing of 4 Field Armies. Two would be sent to pass through the Northern Tip of Rachanan territory to meet enter Balsagun to hold the line against Manchuko. One would be sent to Rachana to defend a potential Nihonese invasion. The last would be sent to the Crime War Zone to continue the effort to capture the nation.

A Reserve Field Army being deployed to the Rachanan Coast.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Presidential Offices, Stegas, Breyburg
May 28th, 1929

“I suggest we give the Comanche the majority of the Current Minnesotan and Michiganian Provinces. This will ensure there is minimal resistance from the natives and they have the land they need to prosper.” A political advisor told President Martin Harvey.

“We are obliged to give them the land they need, given our history, and also to maintain the interests of our nation. I believe this plan is a good middle ground, as I believe we must respect the Comanche, but also further the continued stabilization of Breyburg.” Martin Harvey told the advisor.
_________________________________________________________________________________________

To The Republic of Rachana

Hello, I come to you with good news. I will be sending you a full Field Army, 1,131,846 men. This Field Army is sent to you to help defend your coast to help fight against one.

President Martin Harvey of the Socialist Allied States of Breyburg

---

To the Aydinirian Empire

I bring you an invitation to the Indianum Front. A better, more streamlined, and less binding defense pact for our great continent. At the moment it consists of the Republic of Rachana, Iron Guard Hoosier, and my nation. I hope you come to realize the purpose of this pact, as it is to prevent and fight against threats we are currently fighting against right now. I encourage you to join, for the continued peace and safety of not only your nation, but the entire continent.

President Martin Harvey of the Socialist Allied States of Breyburg

[Aclus]

Big Trouble in little Nasaira
June 8th, 1930
Operation Overtake
Day of the Revolution

The day of reckoning came for the people of Nasaira, the streets filled with rioting citizens of different factions and much different ideologies, all under the same nationality. The leap into the modern world had taken the people by storm, bringing benefits of modern medicine and architecture to the lands, solving many problems thought to have been undefinable through their once outdated eyes.

Though the change had also brought a hail storm of problems to the people, a people unknown or even alien to the shifts and sheer speed of the modern society. Heathen Ideologies from Indianum caused by the war had spread in, rebels now knowing purpose against their reigning royal family spring up across the land and threaten the laws and peace of the land.

The streets was filled with nothing but corpses and fire. The streets of the capital city were in ruin, not much better anywhere else to say the least. as the raids by the local rebel cells and angry mobs were under way, nothing in their path was spared. Rival parties, women and even children were subjected to the massive slaughter, not even the local authority or garrison could end the shit show that was this revolution.

The royal palace was sacked and the head of the emperor stood on a pike as the mob dashed through his once beautiful ancient home. The end was soon to come into fruition as the last lines of the local police force cracked into a wavering frenzy. However as the mob got through the inner core of the capital city, the Aclusian embassy had laid in its path from reaching the outer limits.

Aware of the situation at hand, the Aclusian ambassador had been locked away in the embassy's safe house, though the building itself had not much to stand in the way of the ever growing mob fit with thousands of angered farmers and broken peasants. The Aclusian garrison for the compound held a mere 80 Soldiers at the ready, 4 Heavy Machine guns and 2 Qf 17 pounder field guns. Thought to just be a deterrence to any fool from attacking the embassy, soon became a great mistake of the Aclusian logistics of the area.

Soon hundreds of angered citizens charged the front gates of the embassy, the strongest point of the compound, only to be met with a hail storm of .303 Aclusian rounds. The assault would go on for three straight days, inflicting a massive death toll on the attacking mob, for a loss of 34 Aclusian dead and 22 wounded. As a task force from the Aclusian forward operating base on the coast had arrived right before the last of the beleaguered defenders collapsed.

Initially planned as a military backup plan to take out the Nasairan leadership if they were to wage war, Operation overtake had been put into full effect after the attack on the Aclusian embassy. Fresh troops diverted from the Aclusian Raj and Newfoundland had arrived weeks earlier, bolstering the Aclusian forces in the country by almost double. The next day would be met with the sound of the gun and the fall of a shell.

---

June 18th, 1930

Over the days that followed the beginning of the offensive, the Aclusian army group had broken through the makeshift lines of rebel units, crushing virtually all organized opposition. Those that still however felt a calling to fight took to the hills and far forests, merely considered bandits. The Nasairan capital was the first to fall, as Aclusian mechanized infantry had rushed in with the support of armoured units, crushing the reckless defenders.

By June 11th, the core industrial cities of the nation came down with the reopening of the offensive, gaining access to the other ports of the island nation. Other cities however, those that were still in allegiance with the former imperial government found themselves submitting to the Aclusian army. Majority were also in fact declared open cities before the arrival of any Aclusian units.

The process of creating a government loyal to the Aclusian Empire was sought out, gaining major support however from many of those in the middle and higher classes of the people. Seeing it as a safe plan to keep the country intact for what little pride laid left.

---

Palace of Westminster
Meeting of the Lords
Emergency Parliament meeting
City of Aclusia

The issues were passed and brought around again with the same old feedback, the house of commons had been nothing bu the bickering of aging men about the rise of the issues sparked by a younger, much quicker populace. Though everything was quite a stir as the Nihonese war dragged on longer than expected. Word of the Skartenian defeat had spread like wildfire in the Aclusian press, bringing a crack of interest to the people.

Once again the house gathered on the issue of the war spreading to Aclusian lands, though it was seen as unnecessary as it seemed that although the war intensified, strives for a peace may be on a route sooner or later. Following the news of the Manticoran cease fire with the Nihonese, it brought quite a shock to how the war kept switching paths to the MP's.

"I say the war drags on for another year, then Manchuko and whatever is left wouldn't be worth a damn thing"- One MP from the conservative party snorted, followed by the jeers of his fellow members.

"Now now, the commotion will be over with as we go on to the real issues, the call for supplies and munitions from the empire of Nihon will now be put under discussion, followed by the order of warships by the Hoosier government." Speaker of the house Nicolas Longworth responded sternly, followed by the many conversations that began to fill the house.

At the end of the day, the results had come in. The House had voted in favor of sending munitions and supplies to the Empire of Nihon, while the Hoosier Navy would receive a another chance of discussion, as a consensus had yet to be reached.

[The Manticoran Empire]

"Schemes"
18 June 1929

The High Command of the Empire had spent two weeks working on this new plan and they were now ready to inform the rest of the Central Alliance. The messages would be carried by submarine to Aydinir, Hoosier, Breyburg, and Skarten before couriers delivered the written message to military officials in Skarten, Hoosier, Aydinir, Breyburg, Rachana, and even Parsa. The mission was carefully planned to avoid Nihonese patrols and ensure total secrecy. All correspondence about this mission had been done by courier, with no telephone conversations or radio messages. The OSS was taking no chances with the plans of Operation Sphinx becoming known to the Nihonese.

It was an ambitious plan. Four simultaneous offensives to be launched in the spring of 1930, involving millions of personnel from Central Alliance nations and dozens of capital ships. It would see attacks against Ryukyu, Manchukuo, Shishiri, and Carriebean. It would also see the beginnings of preparations for an invasion of mainland Nihon.

The plan itself took advantage of the Central Alliance's sheer size. With a manpower reserve of almost 227 million men and 202 capital ships, the Central Alliance could launch offensives with overwhelming force in multiple theaters simultaneously. If Operation Sphinx worked, it would be a decisive victory for the Central Alliance, one that crushed the Nihonese and their allies, opening the road for an invasion of the Nihonese home islands.

At the Bureau of Ships, a department of the Royal Navy responsible for the design of new warships, a process began in 1925 was nearing its end. The design of a new class of aircraft carrier. Initially proposed to be 13,800 tons in order to ensure more hulls, an adjustment to the design had it displacing almost 14,600 tons. It was designed to travel 10,000 miles at 15 knots, with a designed top speed of 29 knots and an air group of up to 86 planes. Furthermore, a total of ten of these ships were proposed. The Empire was also putting serious thought into the development of additional cruisers and destroyers. The current proposal was that, in 1930, in addition to the 10 aircraft carriers of the Valkyrja Class, another 12 ships each would be added to the Durinn and Nuln class heavy cruisers, another 35 light cruisers from the Mótsognir class, and another 65 destroyers from the Clemson class. In addition to those vessels, 18 new super dreadnoughts were authorized for design and construction. These three new classes of ships were anticipated to follow a similar design to the Wissenland class, creating a new "Standard Type".

Thus, the Naval Procurement Order of 1930 would include 10 Aircraft Carriers, 18 Super Dreadnoughts, 24 Heavy Cruisers, 35 Light Cruisers, and 65 destroyers. The carriers and battleships would take at least 3 years to build while the cruisers and destroyers could be put into service in a year and a half.

[Newne Carriebean7]

Das Kapital Region
Presidential Palace
June 1st ,1929

President Marvin Washvelt was blinded by a sudden flash of light that forced him to grip the blankets and toss them over his head, wanting the all too familiar and pleasant feeling of absolute darkness in sleep envelop him.
“Oh no boosman, yo gots t’ gits up.”
“Get up? What bloody time is it?”
“It one past nin.”
“Nine O’Clock already? Fuck.”
Relinquishing control of his blankets, he allowed his eyes to adjust before making a beeline to the bathroom, feeling the tiled floors on his barely awake body. Staring at himself in the mirror, the man peeled back his gums and relished in the feeling of slightly clean teeth before smacking his lips and rummaging through his closet for something to wear.
The sound of heavy footsteps brought Prime Minister Marchiba Bantejø’s hearing at full attention. Staring up the stairs at the President, he waved politely before both men shook hands properly.
“Ah, President Washvelt. Still a prick I see.”
“Prime Minister Bantejø, still kicking I see.”
The centenarian let out a hacking laugh before wrapping his wrinkly old hands around Washvelt’s shoulder uncomfortably. As Washvelt made his way into the kitchen, with Bantejø following, the two struck up a conversation.
“Oh son, I’ve almost been through the history of this grand country. I was in my fifties when you were in diapers! Now, son, I didn’t just come before you to relive past memories and make ye shit yourself. No, son, I’ve come here for good ol’ decent politikin. Ya hear any scrap o’ news bout that idjit Hood von whatever the fuck his last name was?”
“No. Nothing yet. Our basic plan in this war is sound, if not very well thought out. We’re going to back up Nihon with whatever we can spare, be it morale support or fleshy bullet sponges known as the Imperial Carriebeanian Army.”
Bantejø’s face turned to one of mild disappointment as they continued walking into the kitchen, setting down with a breakfast of hot sausage, freshly cut hashbrowns and slightly golden toast.
“That’s disappointin’ son.” Bantejø said inbetween a swig of coffee “I’m damn well disappointed in that news.”
“Why should you be surprised? You’re fully aware of our army’s reputation as a bunch of incompetent warmongers who can’t shoot straight but can commit war crimes.”
“I’m disappointe cuz I was ‘spectin something, oh hell, I don’t know, inspirational.”
“Inspirational? Go find inspiration yourself you old bastard. We’re a husk of our former glory, the old Carriebean of 1914 with vast territories and plans for a colonial empire. You remember that?”
“Oh hell, I was the one that pushed for it. Buncha fuckin’ cold ice rocks don’t do no one no good no more! I was ‘spectin those shiny cold ice rocks. Gud ol’ goldy moldy.”
“Goldy Moldy? The fucking fairytale?”
“Shh, now you don’t go tellin’ yer toung bout t’ lies t’ cinaman ‘dustry don gon plays on ya. Goldy Moldy’s reeal. I sees it wit me own eyes in t’ deserts.”
“Now, if I was to get this fucking derailed train back on the tracks, why do you bother us today? Military matters? Matters of politics? Foreign Affairs?”
“Acktualy, I can’t not ever remember, but It’ll com t’ me. Right? Weis still backin’ up Nihah?”
“Correct, Prime Minister.”
“Wit ow many ships an troops an shit?”
“Well, our entire naval main fleet, one of our reserve fleets and a full division of 20,000 soldiers. Though the enemy’s forces are in the millions, our drop in the Nihonese bucket will be appreciated to force the enemy out.”
“So they’ve landed?”
“No. We’re still not sure where the hell any of our naval forces are. You know, fucking shitty communications.”
“Nah, that’s just good old fashioned incompetence.”

President Washvelt could not help but let out a small laugh at the absurd joke. The Carriebeanian Navy’s communications were a little more than rudimentary witchcraft to the average shit eating Carriebeaner.
“Well, I’ve come to expect that from them at least. Consistency’s one of the few things we’re good at. Until we’re not good at it. So let’s keep the positives to a minimum, shall we? What else has happened?”
“Well, our merchant marine’s raising on big stink about wanting escorts from Nihon to Carriebean.”
“Do those idiots not read a fucking newspaper? Manticore’s government made it perfectly clear in warning people not to board ships heading that way.”
“Sir, with all due respect, that’s fucking cold, even from you.”
The President simply shot a toothy grin as the couple made it’s way outside the vast gardens and slightly burning brothels that had become the former nobility’s homes. If it was supporting the economy and giving the president an alternative to being single, he couldn’t care less what the conservative Christian organizations that pestered him about “women’s rights” sold him. Sure he could never remember the amount of wives he had during the weekdays, frequently mixing them up during his stays, but he was complacent with the arrangement.
“Now, would you like to meet the cabinet?”
Bantejø brightly grinned.
“Why didn’t you lead with that? No wonder why you’re single.”
“Oh fuck you.”

Carriebeanian Parliament

The Three storied building was filled with historical relics, military weapons of dated age, and yes, politicians. Due to the haphazard way Carriebeanian elections work, 1500 seats were maneuvered around with a relatively positive outcome for Farmer-Communist and Independent Coalition, increasing their majority with the deaths and appointments of at least two hundred separate MPs to the government benches or sections.

Prime Minister Bantejø gulped down the rather large tub of whiskey he had been nursing for the entire day. Smiling at the speaker, he was soon recognized.
“The House shall now convene for it’s first meeting since the dissolvement of the three houses for the 1927 elections. The Prime Minister has the floor for opening debate on the Military Restructuring and Diplomatic Clusterfuck Act, otherwise known as Bill 001 of this legislative year.”
A few cheers and hisses from government benches, with the occasional shit falling down far below by the two houses that were above the House of Peasants greeted his ears.
Undeterred by this and complacent with the situation, he began his rambling opening statement.
“Thank ye Masta Gibbs. I open debate on the Military Restructuring and Diplomatic Clusterfuck Act of 1929 with my firm support for it. We shall need more military weapons, weapons the Congress has sanity enough to postpone or kill entirely. We also need more revenue sources for our taxes, perhaps we shall conduct brick taxes, window taxes and shit sandwich taxes to make up for lost revenue due to our reduced population. I shall continue to full heartedly back the good tradition of Amanzo whippin’ goodness for the white Carriebeaner! I thank the government backbenchers for their unwavering support in this process.
I praise the Nihonese for being our staunchest and most loyal allies, and we have reciprocated that in our costly military excursions with our expeditionary and naval operations against our foes. No price in funds is worth more than saving our staunchest ally. I yield the floor back.”

“Representative from Rumstand 10 has the floor.”

“Thank ye Masta Gibbs. I come here to remind you that young Carriebeanian boys are being swindled away, and not even at a good price! The fucking Nips are underpaying us for the good labor we have, subtracting our population! Sure, they may promise to give back us our land, but we’ll have no one left to occupy it fully once they’ve taken away all our babes and children! I’d argue we need to end our alliance and dependence on the Nihonese. What the fuck have they ever done for us besides bail our asses out in a war or two against the Rusklandr Cthulhu worshiping heretics?
I’m not saying we need to declare a full on jihad against Nihon, but a few firm slaps to the economic ass will suffice for my constituents. I’ve talked to them in my leisure time since the last election, and they’ve told me time and time again how they hate the fuckin’ nips for takin their jobs and cotton niggers away. Speaking of some fuckin nip spanking the fuckin economic ass of Carriebean, the fucking nips are spanking the fucking economic ass of Carriebean. People in my district say it’s worse than it was a year ago. A year ago. This leads the government on two paths. One is to pay attention to the constituents, reduce spending, reel in the deficit, and fix our economy, or we could continue to print and bury money while blaming the Nihonese for our economic problems. I urge the government to abandon it’s halfhearted attempted at the former and go headlong for the latter solution. The fuckin Nips must be exterminated economically!”

“The Prime Minister, you’re response?”

“Thank ye Masta Gibbs, I would first implore the opposition to understand the Nihonese bailed our asses out when we couldn’t possibly bail ourselves out. Their financial, military and cultural experience and assistance was instrumental to our slight economic boost. We backed them up in an ill-fated military campaign to establish a puppet government within Parsi and we’re going to continue to back them up. On to the actual merits of the bill, I notice that my colleague has only passing mention on his opposition to the bill at hand and it’s legislative nitty gritty. I thought he’d be more acquainted with parliamentarian procedure rather than staying all day eating shit and watching chalk!”
The government backbenchers roared with laugher while an explosion of booes and cursewords were thrown out by the opposition members. The Speaker of Parliament hammered his gavel and waved his ceremonial cutlass in the air for order.
“Order you son of bitches! This Parliament will have order, or I shall stab you all with my fucking sword!” Eventually, the riotous and rowdy attitudes soon subsided as the Speaker was able to mention.
“All those in favor say Aye?”
“Aye!”
“All those in opposition say Nay.”
“Nay!”
“Division! Clear the shit room!”

Soon the customary voting took place on each of the three levels, with government pages getting a workout counting who went where, what their name was and which way they went to west or water. After several strenuous minutes with an Abucus, several fingers and one too many beers, the drunken up government pages delivered the report before falling on the floor, pissing their pants from being drunk.
“The Ayes to the Right, 3,015 Nays to the Left 2,960, 85 Abstentions or drunk people loitering around that we counted as abstaining their vote”
“ With a Majority of fourteen more than needed, the Military Restructuring and Diplomatic Clusterfuck Act of 1929 is passed by Parliament. The Motion Passes and Parliament shall be adjourned until this afternoon.”
A firm whack of the gavel ended the session, with thousands of members of parliament anxiously awaiting to go home to their families, funneling out of the chambers.

MILITARY RESTRUCTURING AND DIPLOMATIC CLUSTERFUCK ACT OF 1929

I. The Carriebeanian Government recognizes it’s necessity for a modern fighting force, as such directs the Minister of Manufacturing and Minister of the Army to co-operate in the planning and execution of needed military designs and blueprints. Members of Parliament have put in these suggestions for more military machines: 1. 200 Additional Tractor Assault Vehicles, 50 Hotchkiss Revolving Cannon, 25 Slave Propelled Tank Mark IV, 150 Pope Talos 1926 Armored Car. 15,670 Vinegar Machine Guns, 130,000 Carriebeanian Bolting 1905 Rifles, 400 x 1905 75mm Cannon, 100 x De Bange 90mm Cannon, 25,000 Carriebeanian 1855 Colt Revolving Carbines.
II. The Carriebeanian Government understands the need for more ships to blow the fuck up out of enemy ships and to look cool or stupid while executing that task. As such, the government has approved with the nods of Imperial High Command, the construction of the Pocket Cruiser Class ship, armed with Five Seven Inch main guns housed in single turrets, along with Twelve smaller two inch side guns for threats. A single vessel shall be developed, with possible orders for a sister ship once the Heavy Destroyer line is completed.
III. Carriebeanian Minister of Finance shall be directed to issue taxes for the following: three hundred Sais for each window on a house, called a window tax. This shall apply to all except the following: Government employees, Incumbent and retired politicians and members of the Royal Family and Military members that are deemed “A High Rank to get away with this shit”.
IV. A tax shall be placed on shoes and shoe repair, with two hundred Sais for a brand new shoe, with four hundred per pair. Any condition of shoe will be taxed according to the date of manufacture, with a reduction of 10 Sais for each decade old. Shoes that are deemed to be historical, cultural or stupid are exempt from this tax.
V. A tax shall be placed on shingles for buildings, with each shingle costing the owner of the home 2 Sais each. Historical Buildings pay a reduced rate of 1 Sai per shingle, while Carriebeanian Military and Political buildings pay half a Sai per shingle.
VI. A tax shall be placed on clothes imported overseas that are within the owner’s wardrobe, trash can, or proximity to harbors and lakes within Carriebean. For clothes imported from Breyburg: 5 Sais. Ruskland-Pruben :15 Sais, Nihon: 2 and a half Sais, Breyburg: 4 Sais, Arengin Union: 8 Sais, Wargloria: 5 Sais, Aclus: 30 Sais. All other countries shall be met with a 7 Sai flat tax regarding articles of clothing. Carriebeanian made clothes shall be taxed at the flat rate of 1 Sai per article of clothing worn or within the wardrobe of the citizen.
VII. Machinery, Industrial and Economic parts brought to Carriebeanian ports and unloaded on Carriebeanian soil shall be subject to one tenth cannibalization by Carriebeanian officials for use towards local businesses. Nine tenths of the remaining products shall be taxed by weight, with seven Flingpongers equal to 49 Sais and one Flingponger equal to 7 Sais and so on and so forth. One Flingponger shall equate to 13 and three fourths of an Imperial Pound. Each nut and bolt on said machine shall equate to a single Sai tax, with the sum of the number of nuts and bolts counted and multiplied by two for an additional tax on machinery and Industrial Products.
VIII. Imported Food shall be divided into two broad categories, Canned Goods and Everything Else. Canned Goods shall be granted a Bulk Case of 100 ruling, which states that 100 cases of canned goods shall equate to the total weight of the cans put together minus the weight of an individual can. The total weight shall be converted into Carriebeanian Sais and priced accordingly. Everything else shall have a flat 15 Sai tax on it, with additional taxes for the following subcategories:

Dairy Products: 3 Sais per container of milk, 2 Sais for each egg or 7 Sais for a dozen eggs, Cheese shall be 1 Sai for each hole in Aydinirian Cheese, or 12 Sais for a wheel of Cheese. Any other types of Cheese shall be penned at 8 Sais per each piece. Seafood smaller than whales shall be taxed at 17 Sais for each catch of the day, 7 Sais for each catch of the day that’s three days old and 2 Sais for expired or rotting catches of the day. Ground Beef that’s spoiled shall be taxed at 1 Sai for each cubic ton of Ground Beef, with half a Sai for anything less than a cubic ton. Live animals and Poultry shall be taxed 13 Sais for any animal, big or small entering the boarders with the exception of Octopi and Horses for expeditionary military purposes.
IX. Any and all items deemed to be “Junk” and not fitting into these aforementioned categories shall be taxed at a flat rate of 100 Sais per item per week until necessary changes to the categories are taken up in Parliament.

Sea of Europeia
Near the Straight between the island of Shishiri and mainland Indianum
Light Cruiser Shard

The light outlines of the various vessels of the Carriebeanian Reserve Fleet were faintly heralded by the mismatching sounds of somewhat advanced engines juxtaposed with the slapping of paddles from exhausted torpedo boat skippers who had the stamina and misfortune to be mixed into the reserve fleet.
The mug of freshly emptied coffee slammed onto the wooden table with a thud belonging to the now caffeinated Carriebeaner that consumed the components in the cup. Admiral of the Fleet Joseph Bonaparte shakily looked around the room for a moment or two before sighing. The Carriebeanian forces trudged on through the sea, with the blue being interrupted by the slicing of various white hulls through its pristine waters. It was an ideal scene; one some person might mistake for a holiday vacation. Still, the nerves of the Admirals were fairy fried, if chilled in the small icebox they called their personal quarters onboard the shit covered cruiser. An ensign on the top of the mast bellowed to his crewmates bellow.
“Smoke sighted north! At least thirty to fourty stacks!”
“Can we identify them?” Bonaparte questioned to the man preforming his duties.
“Does Carriebean have forty battleships just on a pleasure cruise?”
“Shit. Damn good point. But, they could be Nihonian-or Nippian-or the Nips own ‘em, have you tried to shoot signals at them?”
“Oh, Admiral, I’ve tried the blue smoke, green smoke, ass smoke, smoke smoke and ham smoke, nothin’s workin.”
“Shit. All hands battle stations, make steam!”
Bonaparte shoved aside the aide manning the telescope and peered through the slight fog that was appearing to the port side. All throughout the fleet, alarms wailed as men woke up from their long naps, readied their overalls and prepared the main guns for priming and shooting. Up on the medical bay, a vast array of leeches, bizarre face masks and various herbs and human feces was brought up from the sheep pen onboard and the galley. Flashes of light meant one thing to many people onboard, gunfire.
The enemy.
Rushing up to the bridge for a better look, the largest Carriebeanian ships, Armored Cruisers Bloody Mary and Hoosier’s Damnation rotated their main guns and let loose almost immediately. By that time the enemy return fire had landed, with a massive column of water exploding to the side of the Shard, shaking it from stem to stern.
Other vessels were not as lucky to be blessed with a off chance that the enemy gunner was a first generation inbred Carriebeaner, with a salvo of heavy sixteen inch rounds impacting the heavy destroyer N-12, blowing it up in a bright fireball that made certain not a soul could have lived.
“Oh to hell with this, can any of our ships poke the enemy in their eyes at least?”
“Uh, I’m not so sure that we can even do that sir, maybe tickle them with some pot shots and call it a day.”
“Son of a bitch bitch bitch, Retreat!”
“Ah, you mean the most cherished and honored carriebeanian tradition of running the fuck away from this.”
“This is no time for jokes. All ships come about 180 degrees!”
With a stern talking to, the two men quieted down as orders were barked out for a full 180 degree turn. Carriebeanian naval captains often got their jobs from cereal boxes, so the amount of chaotic collisions when preforming such a difficult maneuver was numerous. Some worth mentioning was the ramming and sinking of a Carriebeanian torpedo gunboat by one of the massive whales known as the floating batteries.
There was little if any co-ordination and cohesion by the reserve fleet, emblematic of the five minutes of naval drills they got monthly in leaving harbor and heading back. Ships rammed into each other, men fell overboard screaming and drowning (because knowing how to swims not mandatory in the navy, right?) while those that clung to debris and attempted to clamber on board an allied ship were mowed down by machine gun and carbine fire by paranoid sailors that thought they were being boarded.
A torpedo attack was launched by the aforementioned torpedo gunboats as some sort of mask to force the enemy capital ships away, resulting in one of the only bright spots for the Carriebeanian forces.
Mostly an “every ship for themselves” situation, only rudimentary co-ordination was accidentally attempted as fast torpedo boats joined together either by lashing ropes on for a combined and unmanageable clusterfuck or two captains actually knew what they were doing.
Some of the ships even managed to run themselves aground on Nihonese, Breyburgian and Rusklandr shorelines, with the natives’ hospitality ranging from cult like from the Nihonese to being a murderous ritual sacrifice statistic in the case of those unfortunate enough to land on Ruskland.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Off the Coast of Carriebean Shishiri
1 June 1929

The Carriebean Reserve fleet was hopelessly outmatched. OSS had found it ludicrously easy to get information about Carriebean fleet operations, since the idea of Operational Security was apparently some sort of curse word in the Carriebean military. As such the crews on the Manticoran battlecruisers were well informed on the enemy ships. Further, Carriebean ships were ludicrously poorly captained, meaning that maneuvers were sloppy and uncoordinated, making it relatively easy to hit them at even 30,000 yards. Against a competent fleet, the Battlecruisers could achieve about 3% accuracy at 30,000 yards. Against the Carriebean fleet, however, they had 3 times that accuracy. 17 hits a minute just from the battlecruisers. One by one, Carriebean ships began to take the hits and several exploded as 2,100 pound shells slammed into their magazines.

Aboard the battlecruiser Váli, Admiral Alfred Lyons watched as a large Carriebean ship, identified as an armored cruiser, disappeared behind a column of flame. He turned to the Váli’s captain and said, “Seems we needn’t have worried too much. The Carries can’t fight worth a damn, dangerous as that line of thought may be.” The captain nodded before turning to another officer, “Maintain this range. Don’t let them get closer. Let’s not give them an opportunity to do any damage to us. After all, the Nihonese are next.”

The battle had been underway for only 15 minutes at this point. In that time, almost 3,000 16-inch shells had been fired. Of those, 86 shells had slammed into Carriebean warships, tearing most of them apart. By this point, the Carriebean ships seemed to make a turn away from the Manticoran ships, pouring on whatever speed they could manage to escape. At least one ship exploded when its boiler failed under the pressure and another stopped dead in the water as its paddle fell apart. Despite these losses and more shellfire, within 10 minutes the Manticorans had broken off the chase, confident the Carriebean ships would not return.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Upon receiving the message from the Manticorean Empire, Marshal Eric Stewart authorized the formation of sixty new infantry divisions, twenty-five cavalry divisions, and ten armored divisions. When the divisions took the field, the Hoosier Army would consist of two hundred thirty-five infantry divisions, thirty-five armored divisions, and fifty cavalry divisions.

Abroad, the Marshal ordered the Iron Shirts to make contact with foreign nationals with possible Totalist sympathies. Nasaria was in turmoil following the revolution that left their emperor dead and heir missing. Iron Shirt officers would embed themselves and feel out for contacts that could lead them to elements in the nation that could be possible Totalist comrades, preferably in the remenants of the Nasarian military. Considering the land to be in the Aydiniri sphere of influence, a message was sent to the Empress detailing their efforts in the country while assuring her that the efforts would prove useful in securing a nation with ideals and interests in favor of both Hoosier and Aydinir since Totalism was not an inherent anti-monarchism ideology

Iron Shirts would be doing the same in the occupied lands of northern Rannoria. A nation torn by war and occupied by hated foreign enemies was prime real estate for the emergence of the nationalistic fascism Hoosier had to offer. The promise of uniting behind a strong leader to retake what has been stolen is easy to sell when one has been pushed into the dirt at the hands of foreign soldiers.

The hope was to rouse enough support for Totalism to be able to one day stage a revolt and push out the Aclusians and Warglorians, then reunite Rannoria under the banner of Totalism.

In Hettausa, the Totalist party has been gaining momentum. Considerable public support behind the party and ideology in the last months is due in large part to the activism of its members and the slight interference of the fascist neighbor. Totalist militias had formed in portions of Hettausa, secretly armed by the Hoosiers through Arystakova. The civilians have, so far, only taken part in some training exercises, claiming to do so in the name of national defense. Several protests have appeared in a few large cities, but violence was avoided, and the events remained peaceful, though many armed men had been seen in the crowds of people.

[TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON]

Manchuko
June 5, 1929

To the unsurprised Nihonese forces, the Manticorians went back on the cease fire and had not approved of the peace treaty. Forces, who had just begun to pack their bags where now ordered to stay on the front and be ready to defend the territory at all costs.

Manchuko
June 10, 1929

In Manchuko, with some negotiating, the local warlords in what used to be Ohio, Crimetopolis, who were friendly to the Nihonese, allowed for some supplies of food to be purchased, and an agreement went though to allow for Nihonese shipping to dock and send supplies though the territory to the Nihonese and Manchukoan forces in the north. Four Nihonese submarines that had been dispatched before made a successful journey, bringing a total of 16,000 tons of food along with 5,700 tons of ammunition. Yet next what was dispatched was a large merchant force, protected by 5 Kamikaze Class Destroyers which at a top speed of 37.5 knots, would be able to outrun any enemy. The Kamikaze Class Destroyers had on them loaded 10 tons of extra food, to be dropped off when arriving in port. Alongside them was 10 motor gunboats, made as blockade runners, each equipped with 40 tons of supplies, half carrying ammo, the other half food. These ships would be able to operate independently but for the time being, would be escorted by the entire merchant fleet. Alongside was the Tatsuta Maru carrying 12,935 tons of ammo, which at a top speed of 21 knots, was not slow for her size. The ship had been outfitted with four specially mounted Type 3 Heavy Machine Guns as to be able to fend off enemy aircraft or an attempt to board the vessel. Next was the Shinyo Maru with a similar armament carrying 10,230 tons of ammo. She could also do 21 knots. The Asama Maru had the complete same description as the Tatsuta Maru, with 12,935 tons of ammo, the four machine guns, and ability to travel at 21 knots. Being loaned out from the Imperial Nihonese Navy was the HINMAS Mamiya, a food supply ship, with 12,250 tons of food. The slowest ship in the merchant fleet, as 19.2 knots, she would be dead last in the convoy and would have to hope her heavy armament was enough to protect her. The ship was armed with 2 140 mm (5.5 in) L/50 3rd Year Type guns and two 76.2 mm (3.00 in) L/40 3rd Year Type AA guns. Last but not least was two Aikoku Maru Class ships with 6,500 tons of ammo each. Both were outfitted with 8 × 14 cm/50 3rd Year Type naval guns, 2 × 8 cm/40 3rd Year Type naval guns, 2 × 2 Type 96 25 mm AA guns, 2 × 2 Type 93 13.2 mm machine guns, and 2 × 2 533 mm (21.0 in) torpedo tubes. Capable at 20.9 knots and equipped with two floatplanes, they were the most heavily armed ships in the small fleet. All the crews were armed with some close combat weapons, should they encounter any force that attempted to board.

Gokyo, Nihon
June 10, 1929

In Nihon, new forces were being trained, and propaganda booming. Men and women of all ages rallied to fight with glory for the Emperor should the enemy invade. Defenses where already in place but constantly being improved.

An order went out and was passed in the Imperial Diet to conscript and train 120 new infantry divisions to form two new army groups. This would add to the volunteer/conscripted 20 divisions that were already in training.

Hundreds of balloon bombs were launched everyday towards Manticore, with reports so far of the balloons hitting enemy fields. While not completely successful, they were depriving some of the enemies crops. And different sources pointed to one lucky balloon landing on a building in Manticore, setting it on fire, yet casualties of the fire remained unknown. The balloons had been far more successful in the launches from the Ironton, having consistently hit enemy targets and causing damage to infrastructure. Killing soldiers and civilians alike. Along with setting fires which spread in forests.

Now scientists were working on what was called ‘Aydinirian Fire’ a weapon from the far past, recorded in early documents of having been used against the Wokou. Now based off of knowledge on the characteristics of the fire, for what had been dismissed as to ancient a project for the past few decades, now had top scientists working on it. Test were already underway, with scientists easily being able to make a flame waterproof. Now the task was to advance it and modernize it into a weapon that could be used on the modern battlefield, something much more challenging.

The scientists discovered that foam could actually put the fire out, providing a much needed secret counter against this weapon.

Ryukyu Islands
June 11, 1929

In preparation for a possible invasion, parts of the Ryukyu Island chain were being mined, some setting a perimeter defense while others meant to stop the enemy from being able to rush to Nihon.

Defenses had been ready for a very long time, and now reinforcement of 5,000 Imperial Special Naval Landing Forces would be joining the 19 Army divisions in the full defense of the island. Tons of ammo and food supplies were being pooled into the island chain, with commanders given the specific orders to hold the territory at all costs, and not launch banzai charges.

Waters off Carriebean Shishiri
June 2, 1929
2:00 AM

The darkness loomed over Shishiri, yet night fighting something the Nihonese Navy specialized in. Four Type L4 Submarines stalked their prey, moving in close easily. Their targets, the Manticorian Battlecruisers. In the darkness, identifying a ship is almost impossible until it is very close. By the time the Nihonese ships were close enough to be identified, they would already be in killing range. In addition, they were joined by an old torpedo boat, coming from the other side, as to confuse the enemy and hopefully give the subs a better chance at escape, despite knowing the risks. The torpedo boat had been stripped down as much as possible for its other guns, and now had a slightly lesser crew.

The submarines traveled in absolute radio silence, knowing they would all attack at 2:35 AM on the dot. They broke the silence quickly selecting their targets, then they all fired their torpedoes at once, sending a volley of 24 torpedos at their targets.

The torpedo boat fired its 3 torpedos at a different target, then began to retreat, firing bursts out of heavy machine guns at the enemy in hopes of drawing their attention as the four subs dove deep beneath the waves, their destination, Rusklandr Shishiri for resupply.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Waters of Carriebean Shishiri
2 June 1929
2 AM

The Manticoran Navy was adept at anti-submarine operations and was very capable at night fighting itself. Nine years of war had taught them many lessons, lessons that had cost the Empire tens of thousands of lives to learn and were not soon forgotten. The battlecruisers were established in the center of the formation, formed in two lines six ships long. The 36 light cruisers were then established in a cordon around the battlecruisers and the 92 destroyers were established in another cordon outside of that. Alongside the battlecruisers were the support ships. Minesweepers, minelayers, a munitions ship, a collier, a hospital, and several other ships protected by 140 warships equipped with ASDIC sonar sets. ASDIC had been developed by the Aclusians during the Great War and had quickly been installed on Western League warships belonging to the Aclusian, Arenginian, Skartenian, and Warglorian navies. It took the Manticorans about a year before they managed to capture a destroyer with an intact ASDIC set and another 18 months to reverse engineer their own system. However, the Empire had seen its effect on their submarine fleet and was intent on reducing merchant losses, leading to ASDIC sets being installed on every ship that could possibly mount them. Destroyers received priority but they were soon added to the light and heavy cruisers. By the end of the war, ASDIC sets were being added to capital ships and the Royal Manticoran Navy was well versed in its use.

Now would be the first time ASDIC sets had been used in combat by the RMN since the end of the Great War but the ASDIC techs knew their job. The Navy ran anti-submarine warfare drills at least once every six months, to keep both the ASDIC techs and the submarine crews from getting rusty. Now the ASDIC techs were watching their displays while hydrophone techs sat across from the them, listening intently for machinery noises. The destroyers quickly detected the sounds of submarines and, on the other side of the formation, a fast boat. Messages flashed across the fleet and crews were quickly stood to. Searchlights began sweeping the waves and the boiler rooms were ready to pile on the pressure should the ships need to sprint.

Minutes dragged on like hours as the destroyers homed in on the targets. Then, at 2:30, they spotted them with searchlights. The submarines were still 13 nautical miles away from the battlecruisers and the destroyers now had them. Destroyers broke up into their trios and advanced towards the submarines. The three-ship formation had been adopted due to the issues of using depth charges. A depth charge required a ship to pass directly above the contact, meaning they would lose it. As such, two ships were positioned on either side of the charging ship to keep the contact should the sub attempt to run. The Nihonese submarines were trapped. The torpedo boat itself had it worse. Six destroyers opened fire on it with their four inch guns, destroying it before it could launch.

As the destroyers hunted down the Nihonese attackers, the cruisers and battlecruisers moved off, zig-zagging as they did to make it more difficult to hit them. They had pre-set a rendezvous point 100 nautical miles to the North, intended to bring them closer to Hoosier naval bases. In any event, the Nihonese had lost their prizes.

[Baharuthia]

It was 1929, 15th day of June. The people of Bruslen had been waiting for the day when the Warglorian Reich had promised them, including more autonomy with their own standing government.

Having their men served in the Nine Years War long before, the Bruslenders had been a part of the Reich for some time, having their autonomy raised meant something for them.

As they had remembered their gruesome past, life under the Reich certainly had many pros compared to cons. Now, the State Leader of Bruslen walked towards the Government Hall of Nordmark.

The Capital City of Bruslen, Nordmark was placed on the northern part of the State. The Sverians had been waiting for this day as policemen stood in front of the Governmental Building, keeping the crowd reasonable, as they had been.

Today was their biggest day. A glorious day for the Warglorian Empire and for their soon-to-be-nation, independent or not, they were happy to serve and live under the regime. As the soon-to-be governor entered the building, he had a smile, a content one, he was to be the governor, how could he not be content and happy with what is unfolding before him.

A new frontier for his State and his Empire, surely his nation would be a great asset to the Empire with his nation’s soon-to-rise will and their dedication, they would certainly be a great asset. At the least, he’s entrusted some of his best officers to take upon themselves and organize their forces properly to form the Imperial Sverian Armed Force.

Now, he can only trust his men to do their jobs properly.

Geizholm

Army General, Adrian Quisling had began the training routine as only a few Divisions would be left for the Sverijke, the Warglorians would keep, but only a reasonable amount of Divisions on their land, as for that, they’d need to rely on themselves if they are to be struck and no Warglorian Troops can fend off the invaders.

“Come on, ladies! You are better than that! You are all Troopers! Storm Troopers! Highest of all troops! Where is your spirit!?” The men cheered through as they continued their training regime. Panzer Forces made of the Warglorian Steel, adding to their own quality steel, they were one of the finest beasts made of steel in the entirety of their Force.

With Aclusian-made Vickers and the Kricket Panzers within their ranks, the Drehen Uhr, the first Panzer series, and the Monsters, they were well equipped, prototypical and experimental models are being thought off.

The Generals had soon enough given their advice on making up the new Armed Force, the ones to be assigned as Ministers and the leaders of the Navy and Air Force Branches were still left undecided, but after restructuring to allow women to lead, the Higher ups were still deciding on the matter.
An officer came out to the field, signalling for the General to report in. "Comrade Sergeant, I entrust you with these ladies." The Drill Sergeant simply saluted. "At ease. Keep up the work."

"You heard the man! Keep it up!" The General jogged towards the officer, who coughed a bit.

"Yes? A message?"

"Yes, sir. Higher ups want you to be present. I believe they have decided on the matter."

"I see...lead the way then."

"As you wish."

Military Base of Narvagn

“Comrades, we are here to discuss about the Military Organization of the Top Brass.” Adrian Quisling spoke as the other occupants of the room, all high ranking officers with enough experience to qualify as skilled officers sat with anticipation and contempt.

“Then let’s get to it, comrade. Cut to the chase.” A Sverian-Warglorian man, aging around his early 20s, wearing the new Sverian Officer uniform spoke up a bit too excitedly.

“Patience, herr Adler, let’s not get too hasty.” A woman caught on, who is a potential candidate for the Minister of Defense spoke up. “Comrade Adrian?”

“Ja, alright, so, it has been decided.”

“So, we’re here just to hear the announcement? No discussion, no nothing?” Svein Wulfsen, an Air Force Commander questioned, having blood of mostly Sverian mixed with Warglorian and a bit of Sylbanian.

“Mostly, it is to hear a second opinion...somewhat...” Adrian clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention as he soon smiled and took out the paper. “On Minister of War and Commander-in-Chief is yours truly.” A bit of chuckle came through.

“Well, congratulations on that, but let’s not get hasty. We might just take the seat from you.” Adler grinned at the newly announced Minister and Commander. “And next up?”

“Minister of Defense. Congratulations, Minna, you’re up on it.” The woman, who is in her late forties coughed as she looked a bit content with herself, having mostly Warglorian blood flowing through her veins compared to Sverian.

“Pleasure’s all mine.” She smiled at the Minister, who turned his attention to the paper and wiped under his nose.

“Minister of Justice, Adler Kruger von Fafsneer, you lucky bastard.” The man in question jumped out of his seat, out of uniform and out of discipline. Others looking obviously exasperated and embarrassed at the younger member.

“God damn it, how did he get in? I mean a sense of justice, sure, but are you sure-”

“Hey, I’m not the one, you should be complaining at-” Reading at the bottom of the text, he simply sighed, written down there, an order that he was to hear all the complaints from the members.

But the room calmed down as Svein ushered everyone to calm down and smacked the Minister of Justice upside the head. “Calm down. We’re not going to resolve anything through this. Mature act, people. Grow up.”

“Tch.” Was what the members gave out in exasperation, Adrian sighed before reading further.

“Grand Admiral of the Navy, Janet Skarp. Janet, congratulations on your seat. First ever female Grand Admiral in history.” Janet Skarp, a full Sverian-blooded woman grinned and simply nodded at the man, knowing how great she was compared to other Naval Commanders, she was an obvious choice among other candidates.

“Bullshit on that matter, can’t we rebuke that!? There has never been a female Grand Admiral because of-”

“Save the conservative speech, I think we need the best of now, not the preferred of now, alright? I’ve seen enough stupidity when commanding a Navy in exercises.” Adrian sighed before moving on. “Grand Marshal of the Air Force, Svein Wulfsen, congratulations on your part.”

Svein can only get a satisfied nod after he had been waiting for the moment, having clamped his hands and breathe into it before his part. Adrian giving up a breath, coughed. “That’s all. Second opinions?”

“I can get behind Adler for once, but why Janet?” A Captain questioned on the matter. To which some sighed, Adrian was forced to comply and act reasonable. Or try to at least.

“Well, I’ve given the word. She’s the best we got as of now, we do not simply choose based on influence and gender, now do we?” Adrian sighed at the matter, compared to skills, she was one of the best, if not the best the Sverians can get as of now, others were quite incompetent in the matter.

"But why Adler for the Minister of Justice, don't you see how he operates?" Another man spoke up.

"You underestimate him in decision-making. The man you see before you and him in a secluded area is a completely different entity speaking honestly. I've already read enough letters that I thought weren't from him despite his name being placed below and given a signature." Adrian had known how much of a bastard that man was and how sick some of his orders were in the past that were necessary for victory. "...Alright, that will be all. Thank you for your participation. Everyone. Meeting dismissed."

Scylla Shipwork Group, Design Bureau

"Alright then, sir Klein, the Grand Admiral had just came in with the order." A man came through to the boss, Klein Scylla, one of the sons of the Group's Owner and Director, Jonas Scylla.

"Greatly appreciated, I'll see to it as soon as possible." The employee nodded with a smile before leaving. Klein took a smoke before he flattered the order.

"An Aircraft Carrier, two Super Dreadnoughts, four Battlecruisers, four Dreadnoughts, six Heavy Cruisers, six Light Cruisers and Twelve Destroyers. All for a Fleet…" The look on the man's face scrunched up. "Well, this is a surprise. Not a bad start for a fleet." He grinned before he looked at the ship designers.

They had been working late with their designs. The Nordwind-Class Aircraft Carrier, the Van Kruz-Class Super Dreadnought, the Nordmark-Class Dreadnought, the Cerberus-Class Battlecruiser, the Wessenholm-Class Heavy Cruiser and the T-1 Class Destroyer.

They had been eyeing the Kaiserberg-Class as a better Light Cruiser than their designs and a battle-approved one at that. The man simply smiled, if these were to perform under the new doctrine that was installed in favor of the older, they should do well.

After all, believe in thyself is a good place to start.

All shall be done in eight years flat perhaps...

Fafnir Air Manufacturer, Fafsneer Fighter Factory

"We're running down the factory with the top of the line aircraft! Chop chop, comrades. We are not going to disappoint our buyers!" The factory had been pumping out the best of the best aircraft of the time, the SK II Metal Monofighter, the Me KA.III and the Fw KA.VII fighter crafts.
Having utilized the Synchronization Gear with their prototypes, Metal Fighters were still way out of their league in capabilities against the SK II. So instead they opted to somewhat improve the biplanes. Though that might be easier said than done as the Fafnir Air Designers were still struggling on how to improve their already existing designs.

But their only design that proved to be noted was the design of a biplane that made use of the all-metal design of the SK II Fighter. The Sverians had already begun building said design for prototypical use, but for now, they need to progress on manufacturing their own bombers and their ground attack aircrafts alongside the transports.

The conditions of their equipment output is to sustain the military’s use.

Hirten Panzer AG, Aglin Panzer Factory

The Hirten Panzer AG had continued their time building the newer and modern Kricket and Druhen Uhr Panzers to replace that of the Panzerkampfwagen I and II, having been of monstrous size and the rise of air battles, the thought of bombers dropping bombs on the giant tanks were simply horrifying.
Perhaps it is for a good reason as Head of the Panzer Factory in the city of Aglin, Wilno Skarp had seen them as the future of armored vehicles with inclusion of the Armored Car series. Keen as always, the man simply grinned at how each worker is working and cooperating with each other in building their tanks.

Soon enough he was approached by a military official. “Pleasure to meet you, sir?”

"Welkins, just call me Welkins. I have been sent by General Quisling to discuss about...future designs."

"The specifications or…?"

"Just the specifications, we will leave the design to your Company." Wilno simply nodded as the two soon sat down.

"Beer?"

"Ah, I don't drink on the job. I'd have water just fine."

"Suit yourself." The Head soon took two glasses, pouring each with its own content. As that was done, the two bumped their glasses together. "So...what is the design you are proposing?"

"A proposal to make a new platform. One that can support an AT Gun, one that can easily go over mountainous terrain as well as compete against other tanks.” Welkins took out a file before putting it on the table. “We only have a few available guns that can be converted, we will need to inquire a Gun Manufacturer to convert one of our available guns to be mounted on the tank.”

“I see…but why here? You do realize that the Top of the Branch is in Westavia?” Wilno questioned as the officer simply shrugged.

“I was ordered her, not there. Who am I to decide where this is delivered to?” He asked rhetorically before shrugging. “I’ll leave it to you then, General Quisling will be expecting a reply in a few days.”

“...Very well then, he shall expect my response in a few days at best. I will need to discuss this matter with my underlings.”

“As it is to be expected, I wonder what equipment you would bring to the table for us.” With that, the officer got up from his seat, the Head of the Factory got up, following the military official. “Sir Wilno.”

“Sir Welkins. Bid you a safe journey back.”

“As to you with your endeavor.” The two shook hands before Welkins exited the room, Wilno simply looked at the files before smiling, ideas went through his head, but some too wild and too advanced for this time.

Well, the time for a new Panzer is pretty close with this standard.

Proclamation of the Reichskommisariat Sveria
16th June 1929
Capital City, Nordmark

The day has come.

The day everyone had anticipated and long waited for. To some it was a blessing, but to many it was an honor.

The Proclamation of being a Puppet for other nations are...quite repulsive, but for those who fought and longed for the Empire, it was an honor for them to be released as a puppet state.

Adrian Quisling had assembled his men to guard the Chancellor as he came through, Christopher Adolphus began his walk towards the podium where many people were waiting for his speech today.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, citizens of Bruslen! I am glad to announce that we have been given the honor to be turned into our own nation!" Cheers erupted, people were crying in disbelief and some yelling in excitement. "The Warglorian Reich has come to the decision that we have been contributing so much and that we deserve our own state to be runned by a Chancellor who is yours truly and the Reichskommissar Joseph Tarbovün!" The Warglorian-descent simply nodded, steadily to say and had acknowledged what had been spoken.

A round of applause came through as it died down when the Chancellor ushered them to. "...I wish to say that to the Empire that we are grateful and honored. Today we stand by the side of the Empire, never shall we go against them nor shall we decide against them. Alle kommen zusammen! Für einen wohlhabenden Reich! Siegreich!"

"Siegreich! Siegreich! Siegreich!" The people cheered as one force.

"Then as of today! We shall serve the Reich through and through!" The cheers became deafening as the patriots and nationalists raised their voice.
Let it be known as of today, the Reichskommissariat of Sveria, the Sverijke had been proclaimed and ready to serve the Empire. With every blood, be it peasants, royal or impure. All shall have one duty to do their part in the nation.

All as it went, bodies were littered in the cold mountain trails, men in black simply dropped bodies of the dead men from their vehicles before pushing them towards the freezing lake of Sinzlein. “All for the better of the Reich.” All the men bare no smiles or enjoyment on their faces.

“All for the better of the Reich. Trinitati Victoria.”

“Trinitati Victoria, kameraden...good work for today.”

“Danke, Kommandant!”

“Let’s get back to base! We have work to do.” And soon the men followed, a few looked down the lake before following suit.

[TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON]

Coast of Southern Adrillas, Rachana
11th May 1929

Having obtained naval dominance after the battle with Rachanan naval forces, the Imperial Nihonese Combined Fleet had rained down naval artillery for 6 days now. And with its superior range, the Nihonese battle fleet had concentrated it efforts over a medium sized beach drowning the enemy forces in shells. Yet last night, a different munition was being fired, phosgene gas. The hope was the enemy would be caught unaware and a few enemies could be taken out that way. The battlefleet concentrated on firing upon enemy emplacements while destroyers and cruisers dealt accurate shots and by sunrise, where firing a new gas, lewisite. Lewisite, being incurable, could cause burning pain and irritation throughout the respiratory tract, nosebleed (epistaxis), laryngitis, sneezing, coughing, vomiting, difficult breathing (dyspnea), and in severe cases of exposure, can cause fatal pulmonary edema, pneumonitis, or respiratory failure. Ingestion results in severe pain, nausea, vomiting, and tissue damage if breathed in. Upon skin contact it causes immediate stinging, burning pain and itching that can last for 24 hours. Within minutes, a rash develops and the agent is absorbed through the skin. The enemy would face severe chemical burns that would begin with small blisters in the red areas of the skin and within 2–3 hours and grow worse, encompassing the entire red area, for the ensuing 12–18 hours after initial exposure. Sufficient absorption could cause deadly liver necrosis. The results of eye exposure can range from stinging, burning pain and strong irritation to blistering and scarring of the cornea, along with blepharospasm, lacrimation, and edema of the eyelids and periorbital area. The eyes can swell shut, which can keep the eyes safe from further exposure. The most severe consequences of eye exposure to lewisite are globe perforation and blindness. Generalised symptoms also include restlessness, weakness, hypothermia and low blood pressure.

Surely the gas would be effective, as it was tasteless and colorless, meaning the enemy in their uniforms were completely prone to attack. Phosgene shells were thrown in the mix too, to not arise suspicion. After an hour of the lewisite bombardment, 4,000 marines equipped with the newest medium and light tanks began the rush to the enemy beach, as destroyers escorted them, still firing regular rounds. The enemy would just be beginning to feel the effects of the gas, and leave them in too much pain to fight back. The second wave was already getting ready and soon, the battle would begin.

The bombardment was intense, and it did do damage, ruining some of the defenses, crippling some ability of the Rachanans on the shores to respond to the Nihonese invasion. However, many of them left their posts, escaping through tunnels dug in the weeks before the invasion, or to the surface, on roads leading inland. Those who remained behind had to suffer death at the hands of gas. But it was obvious to the Rachanans that the Nihonese would have to do this, the bombardment specifically, and that once they pierced the naval lines, they would try to land on Adrillas. But where in Adrillas exactly they did not know until finally those men and women of the throne of Rachana heard the shells bursting in the distance, coming closer to the shores from within the country.

But they stopped short. Their orders were not to get too close to the shore. Instead, only forward elements with horses and vehicles fast enough to move around in the hills and narrow passes around the shores were permitted to come closer to do two things: discern the situation of the landings and take in any survivors. At the same time, those who stayed back did their duties: get into defensive positions and wait for the enemy to come close. And behind them, there would be more defensive positions.

There were towns close to the shores but they were abandoned. That was good, because it allowed the Rachanans to worry less about them. The only thing they had to worry about was the Nihonese breaking out of the beaches.

At the beaches, those who survived the gas and the bombardment, only a mere hundred, a thin company of riflemen and their officers, kept their posts, daring the marines of the Nihonese Empire to come to them.

And those who managed to escape returned in small numbers. This kept on going until there were two more companies on the line again. Another company was returning, but it was still a few minutes away from the defensive positions they had here.

With rifles, machine guns, a dozen mortars, and flare guns as well as a few working radios and field telephones, they would stand their ground here to buy time for the inland forces.

The bombardment had done its work, and Nihonese landing craft full of marines spewed suppressive machine gun fire as they neared the beachhead. Destroyers and Cruisers followed among them as far as they could possibly go, continuing to lay down accurate fire. Cruisers continued to send down phosgene gas meant to both force the enemy back and take the undersupplied soldiers out.

The first landing craft hit the beach dropping the ramp onto the sand, the elite and brave soldiers of the Imperial Nihonese Special Naval Landing Forces, one of the most well trained and well equipped troops in the entire Nihonese military, ran out firing their rifles and moving to cover.

Dozens of soldiers manned their light machine guns, providing cover fire for the arriving men and the troops advancing. It was clear enemy positions where undermanned, and would soon be overwhelmed.

The Rachanans stood their guard and waited for the enemy to come closer. Under intense discipline, they held fire and stood their ground, remaining in their posts with their gas masks on if they had masks with them, or with rags wrapped around their mouths and noses and their exposed arms and legs. They stayed behind when they could. And they moved back when they needed to.

And these companies, when the enemy got in range, started to shoot at them. The mortars opened up on the tanks. And the officers in charge of these companies, the ones who survived or were promoted instantly to replace their dead bosses, encouraged their men to keep fighting.

Snipers from the buildings behind them and machine guns posted in the windows of those buildings opened up on the invaders. And as they all fought their hardest, the Rachanans inland waited in their prepared defensive positions. And on the hills and mountains, the Rachanans watched and waited for the enemy to come closer.

And as the first battle on the beaches was being fought, the Rachanan air force was preparing for their first missions against an invading army.

Nihonese soldiers advanced behind the tanks, which served as a shield against enemy fire. The tanks had good armor, and would be able to take some of the abuse from the enemy. As soldiers rushed into the fight, firing their guns, the second wave began to approach the beaches, another 4,000 Imperial Special Naval Landing Forces men. Another priority would be gaining air superiority with the large numbers of fighters from the carriers, with other carrier bombers dropping their munitions on enemy targets.

Nihonese soldiers had by far superior numbers, and soon a surge of forces was thrown at the enemy defenders holding the beach, the sole intent wiping them out. The enemy numbers were small, and the rush of the tanks plus the infantry, bayonets fixed, would be more than enough to secure the beachhead.

Men with light mortars and infantry guns began to open fire, and the hope was soon other guns could be landed.

The Rachanans held the line for as long as they could against all odds until the order from their commanders to retreat was sounded. One by one, the companies fell back from the beaches, fighting as they retreated. And while they did, snipers and long range machine guns along with surviving mortars struck at the Nihonese and their tanks. The important thing now was to fight and withdraw.

At the same time, the first forward elements of the cavalry division stationed close to the hills and mountains which shielded the rest of Adrillas started to get ready for receiving the friendlies and to defend against the attacking Nihonese.

Forward observers were on the hills and mountains waiting. The artillery beyond the high ground was waiting for orders.

And now, going through the twin passes of the hills and mountains, were a few companies of infantry and light artillery from the second division accompanying the cavalry. These were infantry mainly. Their orders were to secure the passes for the retreating men. And to hold the passes.

But the coast was wide and far from them. The men retreating will have to fight their way back for their lives. And for now, their only cover was in the abandoned towns and villages on the coast.

Reinforcements piled onto the beaches forming the second wave. The first wave had taken high casualties, but had forced the enemy into retreat. It was now the job of the second wave to rush in and secure the local towns and hold them until the third wave and the regular army would land.

The enemy was on the retreat, and orders now stood, to fire upon any enemy soldier back turned, or not. Armed or unarmed, any surviving soldier would die.

The towns were expected to fall quickly, and supposedly having been evacuated days before, free of civilians.

The towns were held, and soon in the coming days, more and more forces and supplies would be landed.

The marines dug into defensive positions as the third wave of them landed in. The army men that were now landing however, some of them quick to seek out the spoils of war, snatching wristwatches off the fallen enemy, or stealing smokes.

Hours in other men of a designated team began to remove the fallen soldiers of Nihon off the beach, to bring them back home to be honored. They would be treated with full military honors, remembered and seen in newspapers of their sacrifice and honor for the Emperor.

The unfortunate lower ranking soldiers, however would have to bury the dead enemy. Soldiers dug shallow mass graves while at the order of a colonel, they sorted out the guns and ammo of the enemy, to be sent back home to aid the defenses and hopefully be used by the Volunteer Fighting Corps. Others, under supervision, took all the belonging of value, not hesitating once to take the wallets, wedding banner, even gold teeth of the enemy dead. Other soldiers looted the heavily damaged town, stealing anything of value, left behind money, art, silverware, plates, and more. All of this would be gathered, and put on a destroyer to go back home to Nihon, maybe one day end up in a museum, or be spent to supply the war effort.

Casualties of the day were around 5,000 Nihonese to 600-1,000 Rachanans, but either way well worth gaining a foothold.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

The Tsardom of Exilvania
Capital City of Vladia
Parliament
16th of June 1929

„Esteemed deputies, your votes have been counted and I announce that General Boris Harkov's initiative for granting an addition to the Armed Forces' budget of 10 million lewa for the acquisition of further automatic firearms, named submachineguns by the referred to expert, General Boris Kasov, has been denied by an overwhelming majority of 177 delegates against versing 12 delegates for and 11 delegates not voting due to currently not being in the house. This concludes the third vote for General Harkov's initiative and concludes the initiative as being denied overall.

And since this has been the last point on the list for today's proceedings, I conclude today's session of the parliament and wish everyone here a good evening.“

There was a great scratching of chair legs across the wooden floor following that announcement by the chairman of the parliamt, Viktor Borshewiev from the PS, as the roughly 189 delegates present rose almost as one, starting to pack up their notes and documents. The low buzz of conversations broken up by occasional laughter as the delegates talked with each other About the day's happenings, plans for the evening or simply had some small talk, hung in the air as a beet red General Kasov strode across the room to where General Harkov was still sitting in his seat. Having reached him, the younger General bent down, putting both of his Hands on the table before Harkov and hissed:

„I thought you said you would get my request through? What is this if not a resounding failure on your part?“

The old General looked up at him from below bushy eyebrows, calmly stating:

„So what?“

Such an infuriating calmness, making Kasov throw his hands up in the air as he hissed louder now:

„What do you mean so what?!? Don't you see we badly need those funds for further armament! They're murdering each other over in Indianum and I tell you, it is only a matter of time untill they'll be back to murdering each other over here as well. and I swear by the Lord that I am not sure we can trade casualties efficiently with the current armament boasted by our troops.“

Harkov just yawned to that before waving Kasov's concerns away, bluntly saying:

„All will be done in due time. We'll simply bide our time for the change in management.“

General Kasov was already about to refuse such a wait when suddenly a man in the outfit of one of the Tsar's servants approached the two of them. The man bowed before them before curtly saying:

„His Majesty, Tsar Igor III Zeeringski of Exilvania requests your presence in his lodge.“

Both Kasov and Harkov looked at the servant and then up at a lodge situated on the wall above the seat of the chairman of the parliament. It was the Tsar's lodge from which he could watch the proceedings within the parliament if he so chose. Today he had obviously chosen to do so, the two men seeing the balding head of their sovereign, his moustache and those cold, intelligent eyes gliding over the crowd of delegates as though measuring them like slabs of meat on a butcher's platter. His eyes stuck to them for a moment, the monarch's face lighting up a little as he nodded in their direction. Both Kasov and Harkov immediately bowed their head before rising and following the servant out of the room in silence.

Once out of the assembly room they came into the entry hall where they took a turn to the left, up a staircase, another turn left, up even more stairs, down a corridor, turn left, down a corridor and then turn left again towards a single door. Armed guards were posted before it, saluting the two Generals upon recognising them and immediately letting them through in tow of the servant who announced into the lodge:

„The esteemed Generals Boris Harkov and Boris Kasov are here as per your request, your Majesty.“

„Thank you Ivan. You may go now, I will call for you when I need you again.“

Ivan bowed deeply before the Tsar before walking past the two Generals and out of the lodge. Tsar Igor had already had someone arrange the seats so he was facing the two men and two more armchairs had been placed there facing him, leaving a small, low table between the armchairs. He gestured for the two Generals to have a seat, a request they complied with after having bowed before the Tsar, sinking into the armchairs like tired old men.

„It is an honour to be in your presence, your Majesty.“

, Kasov said, inclining his head once more. The Tsar merely waved it off dismissively, saying:

„I get that a lot General Kasov and between you and me, it is very grating so I would prefer if you stopped that. This is not some public event where form is of the utmost importance. In fact, if any of the two of you let's something of this slip out, I'll have your heads, do you understand?“

The two Generals traded a glance before both of them nodded in agreement.

„Good. My condolences for the failure of your initiative, General Kasov. I am sure it would have been very beneficial to the men and women who serve our country.“

Kasov hung his head at that, merely muttering:

„The delegates are fools, the whole lot of them. They don't see the possibilities and care only for the immediate profits of their voterbase in the unlikely scenario of complete and undisturbed peace.“

Harkov said:

„Well, the people from the PNS aren't that bad. Many of them advocate for a greater Investment in the Armed Forces. We merely lacked their support because we planned to purchase foreign weapons rather than support the domestic industry. And even then many were doubtlessly in favour of our initiative but if there is one thing I know about them, then that treason against the heads of the party is harshly punished and I doubt any of them wanted to risk pissing off Sheltsiev. And Sheltsiev just won't accept that we were trying to compromise to gain the favour of the PS. Elections are drawing near and every party is now strictly adhering to their own line.“

Tsar Igor nodded in agreement to that, complaining:

„Yes, it is painful to watch as politicians and parties put their own ideological interests above that of the greater good of the nation and its people. Cooperation is the key yet I am afraid they will never learn this lesson. One must wonder how much longer it'll take before they either realize the folly of their ways or have to reap the fruits of their childish quarrels.“

Both of the Generals looked at the Tsar in surprise, seeing him honestly distraught at the situation. What he described was what they and many within the military saw within this democracy and it was surprising to hear that he appeared to share this view. Afterall, he had played a role in the disposal of Broskiev's regime, a regime that had in essence done away with the shackles to democracy the way many in the military still hoped of doing.

„Your Majesty speaks out of our hearts when you say this and should you ever wish to do away with this weak system, the military would stand as one behind you to enforce your claim and do away with all those who would work against the betterment of our nation.“

Harkov said immediately, rapping his fist against his chest, which immediately prompted a coughing fit from the old man. It took a while untill he had reigned his lungs in again.

„Your dedication honours you, General Harkov but I do not think it is time for me to assume the mantle of my father. The memory of his crimes is still fresh in the minds of the people and I do not wish to rule over a people who despise my rule.

But that is not why I have summoned you here today.“

Both the Generals looked at each other in silent wonder before looking back at the Tsar in anticipation. Asking would not be necessary, he would no doubt explain himself rightaway.

„Mere hours ago the specially administrated zone of Bruslen to our north…has been proclaimed a Reichskommissariat. Reichskommissariat Sveria or Sverijke as they call it. It is merely an elevation from a region under direct Warglorian rule to one of joint administration between Warglorian and local authorities.“

Both Generals hung at the lips of their sovereign as though he was some sort of god as he spoke. These were indeed big news. Right on their borders too. The question was in what way these could be utilized.

„I have heard that public support and declarations of undying loyalty have been high today. It was an excellent move by the Warglorians, raising local public support, cutting costs for administrating that region and gaining a steadfast ally there.“

Kasov licked his lips, which had become awfully dry, at that and wondered aloud:

„So they remain loyal Warglorian lapdogs. Figures. The question is now wether this changes the strategic situation in our favour. Will Warglorian protection of them lessen or not? Will they adopt an own geopolitical stance, one of aggression towards us perhaps?

The Tsar shot him a sharp glance, making General Kasov immediately shut up, thinking he had somehow annoyed the Tsar. But the Tsar started smiling right after, quickly alleviating the General’s worries.
„I see you hold your rank for a reason, General Kasov. Very sharp of you. The latter is precisely what I am worried about. The Warglorians in Bruslen have been a thorn in our side for very long and now, with this new regime, I am indeed worried they might turn their hungry gazes towards us. And as it stands, they have good chances of succeeding with whatever schemes they could plan.

Putting Warglorian aid aside, their people are largely united as one, much more than ours not to mention they have more of them than we do though I reckon the difference can be neglected. A single great failed offensive with casualty numbers like in the Great War could easily balance that out.

The problem is their well develop industry. As it stands, they outclass us in all fields. Their army is much better equipped, mostly with Warglorian surplus but as it stands they’ll easily be capable of acquiring their equipment and churning out more and higher grade equipment than we do. And fighting a superior enemy is much more likely to cost us more dearly than them.

We will need to bridge this gap in some way.“

The Generals nodded at the words of their Tsar. Indeed, the ex-Warglorian, now Sverian troops stationed in Bruslen were well equipped when compared to the meager Exilvanian units. They had plenty of automatic guns of all kinds of calibers, a great fleet with actual capital ships, modern aircraft, a complete artillery corps and even armoured troops, something the Exilvanians lacked entirely. There was no doubt that the Exilvanian forces in their current state could do little to stop them. Oh, they could doubtlessly make the Sverians pay for every step they would take but they would not be able to prevent them from making these steps at all and would most likely have to give up open warfare and hand over their country to continue the war from the underground.

„Your assessment is correct your Majesty and meets the expectations of the General Staff for the case of a war.“

, General Harkov stated nonchalantly, to which Tsar Igor simply snorted:

„Of course it does, what do you think the General Staff reports to me…“

„Well, your Majesty, the problem is that we cannot do much. The parliament blockades all notions of further armament so we have to scrape by with the budget we have. They are busier subsidising agriculture or investing in the education system. We simply cannot hope to increase the quality of our Armed Forces effectively with shackles such as these applied to us.“

, Kasov complained pessimistically. The hearing today, which had been the third hearing of his initiative brought forward by Harkov, had shown him all too clearly just how little he could depend on the parliament to allow for a thing such as arms projects.

„Which is exactly why I will be taking care of this now.“

, Tsar Igor said before pointing a finger at Harkov:

„General Harkov, you’ll officially be taking an extended holiday in central Exilvania. In truth, I want you to head to Kazanlak where you are to oversee the production and kick off several important projects. Most important among them is the establishment of a workshop for the production of armoured vehicles. Tracked or wheeled, it does not matter. We will require some sort of armoured force of our own to deal with the tanks all around us. The means for that will be coming out of my own coffers so work swiftly on that. While I hope the next government will accept the establishment and expansion of such a project, it is better to have something complete and running ready in case the current government notices. It will make it all the harder for them to try and shelve it.“

He then pointed his finger at Kasov:

„You, General Kasov, will be demoted to Podpolkovnik. Don’t complain, it is all for the greater good.

I have been made aware that you have ties to the KPE? It is of the utmost importance that you expand these ties and motivate the KPE to expand its activities in this Sveria. They are to act as our agents that should give advance warning of any concentration of Warglorian or Sverian forces. It should be within their patriotic interests to protect their homeland from harm so I hope they will cooperate.“

„But why do I have to be demoted for that, your Majesty?“

, Kasov asked, the shock about that announcement having paled his face and widened his eyes as he tried to grasp the reasoning behind it. The Tsar, patient and calm as though he was lecturing a child, explained:

„As a General you draw too much attention. People would watch your moves much more than they would watch a Podpolkovnik. And it is imperative that you are not watched or that any of this comes to light, do I make myself clear?“

Both Generals or, well, the General and the Podpolkovnik, nodded in unison. The Tsar sighed, and leaned back, massaging the bridge of his nose while closing his eyes, saying:

„Very well. Godspeed to you. May your work bear fruit.“

[The Manticoran Empire]

Coordinated Attack Group 87
The Eastern Ocean
16 June 1929

Captain Alfred Shuman stood atop the tower of the submarine S-293. She was an S-class submarine and was operating alongside two other S-class boats as part of a Coordinated Attack Group, one of 138 such groups currently stalking Nihonese merchant shipping across the globe. This particular group sat about 100 miles off the coast of Breyburg, laying in wait for Nihonese convoys. And today was their lucky day. A convoy was spotted by the lookout, steaming fast. 16 ships, steaming slightly off angle to them about three miles distant. The submarines themselves could close in at 11 knots so Shuman plotted a course that gave his boats some lead. They could remain submerged for up to 10 hours, plenty of time for them to make the approach and engage before then escaping. The boats slipped silently beneath the waves, much as a shark does before it strikes. They made their approach fast at first, slowing down as they drew closer to make themselves harder to hear. This was, after all, a drill they had run dozens of times before. The Grand Fleet was constantly running exercises and, as Shuman had learned the hard way, evading 200 plus warships equipped with ASDIC and hydrophones was far and away more difficult than evading five destroyers.

Based on the experiences of the Great War, even merchants in convoys were incredibly vulnerable to skilled submariners and the crews of CAG-87 were very skilled indeed. They were, in fact, the pride of SUBFLOT3 and the most skilled crews in the entire Royal Manticoran Navy. Shuman had come up the ranks in the Great War, as had every skipper in the fleet. His XO and the COB had likewise served aboard submarines in the Great War and they passed on their knowledge to the younger personnel. The Navy had spent the last eight years since the Great War ended perfecting their tactics, both for using submarines and defeating them. Now was the time for Shuman to show that his boys knew their stuff.

Almost two hours after they had gone below, the submarines were in position. The Nihonese convoy was running right over them and the Manticorans had beautiful shots at three Nihonese merchants. Each submarine fired a pair of torpedoes before immediately shifting find another target and firing two more. With twelve fish in the water at around 600 yards range, there was no chance of escape for the Nihonese merchants. The boats then dove below the convoy and sailed slowly outside of it before returning the periscope depth. Shuman watched three Nihonese merchants slip beneath the waves and the quintet of enraged destroyers begin a frantic search for his boats. He ordered the boats down again and they retreated south, towards Breyburg and safe harbor. They didn't surface again until they were almost 300 nautical miles away from the Nihonese convoy and well out of danger. Unfortunately, only one other boat joined Shumans. S-295 was lost with all hands.

[Breyburg]

Melva Hall, People's Republic of Hettausa
June 10th, 1929
A Union of Sorts, Strengthening

Melva, Capital of the People's Republic of Hettausa

Protests had increased. The Totalists, the fascists, were speaking up. This threatened the existence of the Socialist Republic, and ultimately, the safety of the Hettausan people. President Miran Uvarov had to make a decision, give into the Totalists, or crack down on them. Varietism taught tolerance, and Miran lived by that. He did not fighting in the streets. Luckily there had been none so far.

Vesilin Dobrev, leader of the Totalist Party of Hettausa (TPH), partly sponsored by Iron Guard Hoosier, had one goal; to gain traction within the Hettausan government. And it seemed he would get his way. Vesilin did not desire to cause fighting with the Varietists, rather he desired discussion. It was evident that Miran too wanted discussion.

Vesilin Dobrev, Leader of the Totalist Party of Hettausa.

Miran Uvarov, Leader of the Varietist Party of Hettausa.

At early morning, June 8th, President of the Socialist Republic of Hettausa, Miran Uvarov, sent out a message to be published in newspapers and nailed to doors and light posts. It was time for discussion.

Two days later, Vesilin Dobrev arrived at Melva Hall. Along with him came two of his colleagues. Miran welcomed Vesilin in and they went to the Presidential Office.

“I wish not for civil war.” Dobrev stated to Uvarov.

“Neither do I, Vesilin,” Uvarov responded. “My cabinet has come up with a proposal, a compromise of sorts that benefits both the Varietists and the Totalists. I propose a council, half Totalist, half Variesist. No presidency, no one party favored. Coexistence. What do you say comrade?”

“I am willing to accept it, on the fact that we Totalists do not wish for civil war, our land has been scarred far too much. We do not wish to dig deeper into the wound, it must begin to heal. The only part of this proposal that pains me is the council, we Totalists reject democracy, but as we both have said, we must make a compromise, and I will accept this one.” Dobrev said.

“Good Comrade, good.” Uvarov said happily.

The signed some papers. Uvarov stepped down from his presidential position and a council had been formed. The council contained 10 Totalists and 10 Varietists. The Socialist Republic of Hettausa had been renamed to the People's Republic of Hettausa. They stepped out of Melva Hall, holding hands up in the air as if they were boxers and the Hettausan people began to shout and cheer. Some of them began to sing patriotic Hettausan song; lyrics of Velik E Nashiya Voynik (Our Soldier is Great)”, and the Anthem of Hettausa rung in the streets.

Flag of the People's Republic of Hettausa.

Totalist Council Members:
Vesilin Dobrev (Leader of the Totalist Party of Hettausa)
Tselyu Pironev
Zitko Venev
Ivo Balkanski
Atanas Petrova
Dyakon Nakov
Stanamir Petkov
Itzo Savov
Kamen Pavelov
Radko Ilev

Varietist Council Members:
Miran Uvarov (Leader of the Varietist Party of Hettausa)
Manush Emilov
Dimitar Bachev
Krasimir Tanev
Nikul Botev
Yasen Mihailov
Strahil Kynev
Lubomir Svetkov
Mitkov Zhelyaskov
Miro Kishishev

Elections for council members were slated for 6 months from June 10th, 1929; December 10th. For now, the current was to stand till the inauguration; January 4th.
Within the public, people had begun to not only further accept Varietist ideals, but also Totalist ideals, creating a sort of ideological hybrid that would later be known as Hettism, named after Hettausa itself.
_________________________________________________________________________________________

Ardillas, Rachana
June 12th, 1929

The Field Army that had been sent to Rachana had arrived in Ardillas. They were stationed in the hills, to await further orders from the Rachahans and action from the Nihonese.

Breyburgian soldiers improving their aim.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Balsagun, Breyburg
June 23rd, 1929

The Two Field Armies that had been sent to Balsagun to further hold the line against the Nihonese had arrived. This greatly strengthened the forces there as there had only been a handful of Divisions.

Breyburgian soldiers in Armored Cars, patrolling some Steppe.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Crimetopolis War Zone
June 10th, 1929

The Field Army that had been sent to the CWZ had arrived. They were to help in the advance on the Crime Capital. The Crime forces had proved themselves resilient, but they weren’t going to be able to hold out longer.
The forces holding the Crime off were to wait for the perfect moment to deliver a devastating blow, rendering the “Central Crime” Forces useless. Until now, they would inch forward.

A Company of Breyburgian Troops holding back Crime Forces in a hastily made trench. Ohio CWZ.

[The Manticoran Empire]

An Exploration of the training system of the Royal Manticoran Army

For any military force, training is vital. The Royal Manticoran Army learned harsh lessons in the 19th century in regards to relying on basic knowledge and installing leaders based on politics or physical prowess. Leading up to the Great War, training was increased in both duration and intensity, resulting in a 17 week Basic Training course for all soldiers, regardless of their final assignment. It was believed that, no matter what their job was, every soldier needed the same basic skills to survive on battlefields that, as evidenced by the Rome-Manticore Wars in Tamir and by the Austrivanian War in Nuwe Afrikaa, could very quickly become confused. Training prior to the Great War emphasized individual marksmanship and rate of fire with the M1903 bolt action rifle. This changed as the Great War raged on and light machine guns, such as the M1914 Light Machine Gun, were adopted and issued to squads and sections. However, most of the changes came not to the basic training course, which remained 17 weeks long and continued to focus on basic skills, such as marksmanship, land navigation, evasion, drill, and fieldwork. Rather, the changes primarily came in the 16 week Infantry Training Course and the 21 week Cavalry Training Course, which sought to incorporate the lessons of the Great War.
Infantry were now trained to operate in squad sized units when in the open, relying on the machine gunner to provide initial fire while the riflemen took cover before returning fire. The training course emphasized taking the initiative and making use of terrain and other members of the squad to secure objectives.
Cavalry Training likewise changed. Prior to the Great War, they were seen as key to offensives and would often throw themselves into apparent breaks, only to be destroyed by machine guns that had not yet been silenced. Instead, the training turned them into Mounted Infantry, where they used their horses primarily as a way to move quickly before dismounting and engaging with rifles and light machine guns. Cavalry troops were still capable of charge and sabers were still carried on their saddles but they were now far more versatile and could more readily adapt to changing circumstances on the battlefield.
In 1916, the Arenginian Army debuted the tank against Manticoran troops in Nuwe Afrikaa. By 1917, the Empire had its own Tank Corps, which had 21 week training course of their own. Tank Training focused on supporting infantry troops during an advance initially, though this gradually came to include training in tank on tank combat as Western League tanks became more common.

Throughout the Great War, Royal Manticoran Army personnel went through intense training, which became even more intense when they were appointed to NCO and officer positions. The same wars which led to improvements in training prior to the Great War also lead to a change in NCO and Officer selection, with officers and NCOs being chosen not for politics or time in service but for competence and skill. By the time the Great War started, only the best soldiers could become an officer or an NCO, though standards were relaxed in the field to accomodate for casualties. The field standards, however, lasted only until that unit was rotated off the front line and placed in a reserve trench, a rotation that took a total of 21 days.

The Great War also lead to a change in how soldiers were employed in the field. Per regulations instituted in 1915, infantry units were rotated out of frontline trenches after no more than 7 days, being moved to second line trenches, where they would spend another 7 days. Then, those troops would move to the reserve trenches for another 7 days before returning to the front. Every third rotation would be spent further to the rear with 7 days authorized for leave every 63 days. This greatly reduced the number of psychiatric casualties and increased morale. Several other measures, including the use of civilian entertainers such as singers, stage performers, comedians, and bands as well as organized sporting events, further increased the morale of combat troops and became a permanent part of Army regulations for units in combat zones.

By the end of the Great War, the Royal Manticoran Army was an all together different force than it had been in 1912. The soldiers were better led, better trained, better equipped, and highly motivated. The armistice agreement that ended the war in 1921 did little to change the fact that the Royal Manticoran Army had grown out of its adolescence, changing from a carbon copy of the Aclusian Army into a competent and formidable fighting force with its own distinct culture and traditions.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

June 20th, 1929

Hoosier forces on the eastern coast, what was once the Carribean mainland, gathered their strength. Fifty divisions in all, 2,212,650 men total, began to carry out the orders received from high command. With the uncontested Hoosier and Manticoran domination of the Europeia Sea surrounding Shishiri, the Hoosier Army decided against inaction. The war was heating up on all fronts, and with the Nihonese landings in Rachana, there was no better opportunity than now. The fifty Hoosier divisions were readying themselves for a massive offensive and amphibious landing, with Shishiri as their target. The island had been blockaded for months now, and there was no hope for a counterattack that could break the Hoosier and Manticoran fleets in the area. The Nihonese defenders would have no reinforcements or resupply.

Planning would take some time, but with the lack of Nihonese intelligence on Hoosier movements in the area, there was no chance for the plans to be intercepted. For now, the Hoosier Army readied itself.


July 15th, 1929

After nearly a month of planning, troop movements, and supply gathering, the Hoosier invasion force of Shishiri finally set off for their destination. The troop transports were under constant heavy guard from Hoosier and Manticoran ships. The Hoosier Navy had, for a while now, been working on installing Manticoran built ASDIC sets and hydrophones, the majority of which were installed on destroyers and cruisers. As the destination came into view, many cheered as they watched distant Hoosier and Manticoran ships bombard Nihonese positions on the island.

Soon, they would storm the Shishiri.

[The Imperial Warglorian Empire]

Sometime Past Midnight
1st Kriegsmarine Börland Theatre Taskforce and Sylbanian 1st Flotta Imperiale
Off the Coast of Traansval, Western Khartoum Sea
The seas were calm, as waves lightly splashed upon the steel hulls of various warships. Only a few miles off the coast of the Traansval Frontline, the Combined Warglorian-Sylbanian Fleet rested. A massive and awesome force, though the initial number of over 118 warships was no longer concentrated on the single location, as many of the lighter destroyers, corvettes and cruisers had begun patrol duties, the area was still a rather large hotspot as absolutely massive warships rested upon the waters. In the centre of the fleet the RKS Siegreich, an Erkhart class battleship and the flagship of the combined fleet, absolutely dwarfed the smaller warships around her, with several planes and bombers laid out upon her deck ready for action when needed. Admiral Georg Müller, wearing his blue uniform and white cap, looked out the window of the command bridge, various other sailors operating the various stations around him. Müller had only been given the post of Admiral a short while ago, which was why he had been so surprised when his first new assignment was such a massive one. Commanding the entire naval force of a war theatre was most definitely a step up from the single flotilla commands he held in the past. Having to organise a massive fleet, half of which wasn't even Warglorian, while coordinating bombardments, supply trains, patrol duties. All of it made the post very busying. Yet despite all of that, the job wasn't exactly as bad as he thought it'd be.

Mainly, he didn't need to think that much about any enemy fleets attacking, as the Boer one for the longest of times had been nearly non-existent. Yes, the Rusklander-provided fleet was fairly worrying, yet last reports sighted it as still in the Deruhn Ocean and therefore not an immediate threat. Besides, the constant U-Boat raids had done well to keep them busy. And yes, there was the occasional Boer raid, but those caused very minor damage and was hardly a threat. For now, his only duties recently had consisted of support of Warglorian-Sylbanian land forces. Day in and day out, night after night and dawn after dawn the fleet lobbed shell after shell at the Boer lines. And with the Boer airforce similarly a minor nuisance compared to Warglorian-Sylbanian capabilities, some of the ships had even begun firing AA guns for bombardment purposes, though only the heaviest of AA could reach them.

Squadrons of bombers had gone on perhaps over a hundred missions at this point too. Overall, the fleet had done some serious damage on the Boer lines; though rather to his annoyance there had been little to try and exploit this softening.

Müller frowned. Despite the Warglorian-Sylbanian Force's superiority at sea and air, as well as a vast superiority in training and equipment, there had been no progress whatsoever. Ever since the Feldmarschall Siegfried Model had taken over command, Warglorian offensives had all but ceased and for the past few months, Warglorian-Sylbanian Forces had properly bunkered down. Though he disliked Model for his rather petulant personality and lack of decorum, he had to admit that the man had an impressive mind when it came to strategic defence. He had come ashore one time to inspect the frontline and the defensive structures he found there were extremely formidable indeed. What he thought should've taken months to do, Model had built up in but a few weeks, and it had all been worth it after observing wave after wave of Boer troops crash onto the defences like water on a stone cliffside with only minimal casualties on their own side.

Yet no matter how much damage that was pushed onto the Boers, no matter how many defences were blown up and how many men were mowed down, Model refused to try and exploit any sort of potential hole that was made; he was solely on a defensive mindset. Müller thought that was a major mistake, as now the Boers had time to recuperate. They had long ago stopped the waves of offensives on Warglorian lines, and by now had gathered up their forces. Though probably massively blown out of proportions, scouts had reported that the Boer forces numbered in the millions. Now, it was a stalemate, and Müller was growing rather impatient.

Footsteps approached him as the sounds of boots stepping on the cold metal floor resonated throughout the room. Müller turned around, coming face to face with a man in his late 30s, with a sharp narrow jaw, tanned skin, blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. Reinhard Hahn, as the Kapitän of the Siegreich, was by all accounts quite a competent officer, having risen through the ranks at a surprising pace and being known as an eager learner. Since taking the Siegreich as his flagship all those months ago, Müller and Hahn had gotten along quite nicely.

"Herr Admiral," Hahn saluted. Müller rose his own hand in salute in response.

"Herr Kaptäin, at ease," Müller replied as both men rescinded their hands; Hahn to his sides and Müller to behind his back, "Please, stand beside me."

Hahn did so. The two looked out the window port as men continued to scurry around behind them, simply looking into the dark yet starry night before them. Though Müller was quite fond of the view, Hahn seemed to be rather anxious.

Müller sighed. "Do you not enjoy the sight, Herr Kaptäin?" Müller asked. Hahn turned to Müller, looking sheepish for apparently being so transparent.

"Nein, Herr Admiral, I very much do, it's just that there's been a lot on my mind; a few concerns," Hahn began before hesitating. Müller simply gestured for him to continue, "Well, it's something the other Captains and I have been discussing."

Müller's sigh deepened, and Hahn winced apologetically. Müller had been a highly decorated naval officer during the 9-Years-War, yet the war had been exhausting and Müller sought a less stressful and more peaceful life. But ever since the start of the 2nd Warglorian-Boer War, the Rannorian Civil War and the sending of forces to Nihon, the Reich needed more experienced commanders, and so-called out for many retired officers to return to service. So it was only a few years after he was honourably discharged and retired from active military service that he was offered a juicy new post in the Kriegsmarine; with a higher rank, more benefits, and better pay as entailed by the position. Honesty, Müller was fully willing to reject the offer, being satisfied with his simple civilian lifestyle. Yet no matter how much he tried, he simply could not bring himself to refuse. Like all those years ago, he could not abandon his duty to the Reich. And so he accepted it. Went back to dealing with the usual naval operations; meeting with captains, signing and authorising documents, organising and assigning patrol duties.

And he hated it.

By Erkhart, he just wanted to rest! But no matter how unwilling he was, Müller would carry on with his duty for the Fatherland.

"And these concerns are?" Müller asked.

"Well, Herr Admiral, the captains are concerned with a few of your...decisions-- no offence intended Mein Herr!" Hahn said, quickly adding the last part. Müller simply nodded and gave another gesture to continue, "Mainly your decisions to bring the fleet closer and to loosen our escort guard, many are concerned that this could potentially expose us."

Ah, those.

"There is nothing to worry about Herr Kaptäin; most of the Boer artillery is concentrated on our land forces, so reprisals from land are minimal," Müller assured Hahn, "And you've heard the latest intelligence reports, the Boer naval presence in this area is sparse at best, all of their larger warships are in the Deruhn Ocean,"

"Yes, Herr Admiral, but the Boers still have many naval raiders in the area," Hahn replied worriedly.

"Bah! You're worried about them? Those tiny boats? They are but ants compared to the fleet, those raids could only cause minimal damage at most."

"Herr Admiral, would not your own experiences during Der Große Krieg make you think otherwise?"

Müller suddenly frowned. He had him there. During the 9-Years-War, Müller had earned an infamous reputation as a naval raider, from when he commanded a single cruiser to a small fleet. He had earned many nicknames; The "Warglorian Pirate," the "West Sea Raider," "the Kraken," though his personal favourite was "Seegeist".

Müller shook his head. "Those were different circumstances, Herr Kaptäin, I had actual warships; torpedo boats, destroyers, light cruisers, heavy cruisers, even a battlecruiser at one point," Müller explained as if lecturing a child, "All the Boers have are tiny vessels; motorboats and the like, nothing substantial enough to cause the sort of damage I caused."

Hahn's jaw tightened. "Forgive if I'm not entirely at ease," Hahn retorted, before looking to Müller, his face red with embarrassment, quickly adding a; "Herr Admiral."

"Well, Herr Kaptäin, what's the point of all this," Müller waved tp outside the window, where a giant mass of large warships were clumped together like tents at a camp, "If we can't defend ourselves against a few measly Boers, eh? What are they going to do, summon the kraken?"

Hahn smiled in amusement, "Well you never know, some in the Vatikana consider the Boers heretics afterall."

Müller's own face lit up in amusement. However, just as he was about to retort, he heard vague shouting in the distance. On the flight deck of the ship, he could see several flashlights waving about the place, as several men rushed towards the left side of the deck.

Hahn's amusement immediately disappeared into confusion as he also looked at the sight. "What the hölle is happening down there?"

One of the phones used to communicate with the rest of the ship began ringing, with the two officers looking at each other before Hahn picked up the phone. "This is Kaptäin Hahn, what is it?" Hahn asked, nodding as the voice on the other side spoke, "Very well, I'll be down there shortly."

Hahn put down the phone and looked up to see Müller's questioning face. "They found something in the water, we should investigate."

Several minutes later, both Müller and Hahn had exited the bridge tower onto the main deck. Flanked by a pair of marines, the two approached the scene as several Kriegsmarine sailors practically dragged several men onto the deck. The two officers found themselves looking at a group of four men who were wearing extremely clunky-looking diving gear. Their helmets had since been removed, revealing one of the men as looking particularly weathered and veteran, with three rather youthful faces beside him.

"Herr Admiral, Herr Kaptäin," one of the sailors, a Seekadett (Midshipman), saluted, "We found them off the side of the ship, they're Boers."

Müller nodded, looking down at the four men, "I am Admiral Georg Müller, commander of this fleet, who are you and why are you here?"

The veteran simply looked up at him with a smile on his face, "Oh, little old me? I'm just some poor bastard that went out for a swim and got lost, sorry about that it's a little hobby of mine."

"Shut up, you're going to get us killed," one of the younger men furiously whispered, before one of the sailors smacked the back of his head with a rifle butt.

Another sailor approached Hahn and Müller, "We found this on them, sir, they were trying to attach it to the side of the ship." The sailor was holding what looked like an enlarged iron kettle with handlebars; Hahn immediately recognised it as a limpet mine.

Hahn took it and analysed it in his hands. The mine was lighter than the regular ones he used to handle, yet at the same time, he could tell it had a much larger charge compared to the more standard issued ones.

"Impressive, it seems the Boers aren't as backwards as you made them out to be, Herr Admiral," Hahn muttered. Müller looked at the mine with interest before turning to the sailors before him.

"Excellent work Meine Herren, I will see you all promoted for your efforts," Müller said. Before he continued, he heard chuckling in front of him, the Boer veteran looking down as if trying to stifle his laughter like a school child.

"What's so funny?" Müller sneered, as one of the sailors forcefully raised the man's head towards them. The man, a large smile plastered on his face, simply continued to laugh.

He could hear Hahn put down the mine behind him. "There are others, aren't there?" Hahn asked. The veteran only seemed to laugh harder. The Kriegsmarine men around them froze, and Müller felt dread pool up inside of him.

"How. Many." Hahn said.

The veteran's laughing lessened down as he finally replied. "You'll find out soon enough," he stated, and for a brief moment the man's face contorted from amusement into one of pure hatred and loathing, "You Warglorian bastards!"

Before anyone could react, the muffled sounds of explosions washed through the air. Across the fleet, several warships were knocked about when large pillars of water erupted from under them, the groaning of metal permeating the air.

At first, there was silence. Nobody moved a muscle as the pillars of water began to recede, leaving the ships...surprisingly intact.

"...well at least none of them hit the magazin--"

BOOM!

Suddenly, a bright flash erupted followed by a much more audible and near-deafening explosion. One of the ships, a Warglorian dreadnought, erupted into flames as the ship broke in half from the pure force of the explosion.

All hell let loose as a one or two other ships followed in fiery ends, a few others already beginning to take in water. The rest of the fleet suddenly erupted with activity as searchlights were turned on and engines were fired up. Anti-air fire filled the air, bright bolts flying left and right. Others even began dropping depth charges, as packages were flung overboard seemingly at random. Many even began firing their main guns in panic, mainly the Sylbanians, as they began moving in various directions.

Müller looked on in horror as a Sylbanian Pre-Dreadnought battleship, not looking at where it was going in panic, rammed into the side of a significantly larger Warglorian Super Dreadnought, causing the Pre-Dreadnought to erupt in flames and the Super Dreadnought to rock dangerously to its side, with Müller just making out a few silhouettes of men getting thrown overboard.

Standing in shock, Müller barely noticed as the deck was suddenly filled with hurriedly dressed Kriegsmarine sailors and pilots, all of them rushing around like headless chickens. Looking down, he looked at the Boer veteran, who looked back at him unflinchingly.

"Oopsie," the veteran sneered in mock innocence, "Did I do that? So sorry."

Müller once again faced the chaos before him, the sky so brightly lit that it might as well have been morning.

"....at least I could retire peacefully now," was all Müller could think.

Yet despite all the chaos, all the explosions and the cacophony of men screaming and ships sailing, Müller could still hear another distinct sound.

A faint buzzing.

"Herr Admiral!" Hahn suddenly shouted out, pointing behind them at the sky. Müller turned around to see a sight that, even now with what had just happened, filled him with further terror.

In the sky, lit up by the moon and the many searchlights that filled the sky was what seemed like an endless fleet of planes; all bearing what he could just make out as Boer insignia.

He saw as they began to descend from the clouds, flying down towards the various ships. The once random anti-air fire suddenly began becoming more cohesive and concentrated as the ships finally had clear targets. Soon enough, planes began dropping out of the sky like flies left and right, lit up in glorious blazes of fire and smoke. Warglorian and Sylbanian planes began lifting off into the air, launched off catapults on battleships. They joined in dog fights against the Boer planes as they rapidly dodged incoming enemy and allied AA fire.

Yet despite this mass amount if firepower aimed towards the Boers, many began managing to get through. Müller watched as two of the planes got through and dropped their payloads on a Sylbanian Pre-Dreadnought, setting it aflame.

"This....is not good."

Combined Fleet Report
Boer saboteurs planted mines upon several warships, resulting in several detonations that lead to the severe damaging and sinking of several warships. In the ensuing chaos, more casualties and damage were caused by panicked attempts to manoeuvre as well as cases of friendly fire; mostly coming from the Sylbanian warships.

Casualties:
Sunk:

• Berliner Class Dreadnought Augustus
• Cittadella-Class Battleship Fortuna
• 2x Margherita Class Pre-Dreadnoughts Neapolatina and Novus Imperium

Damaged:

• Erkhart Class Aircraft Carrier RKS Siegreich
• Erika Class Super Dreadnought RKS Ausmerzer
• Berliner Class Dreadnought RKS Dünsieg
• 2x Kaiserberg Class Light Cruisers RKS Dashearz and RKS Strauß
• Kaesar Class Battleship NMI Veice
• Torri Gemelle-Class Dreadnought NMI Supremazia
• 4x Bearstum Class Pre-Dreadnoughts NMI Principe, NMI Mano Reale, NMI Leone Marino and NMI Santa Giuseppina

Status: Fleet is in disarray and in dire need of repairs.

Recommended Action: Retreat back to friendly waters, regroup and repair damaged warships.

To: The Traansval
From: Warglorian Reich
To those who are concerned.
Due to recent events...The Warglorian Reich is willing to open up negotiations with the state of the Traansval.

Wehrwaffenamt Report
Confidential Information


Standard weapons report, here reports on new developments and statuses concerning weapons developments and productions. All information seen here is highly confidential under the Reichsministry of War and the Wehrwaffenamt Division of the Warglorian Wehrmacht.

First to be addressed is the final introduction of the new squad Leichtesmachinengewehr for the Warglorian Heer, designated the MG28. After first being tested via small scale distribution on the Boer theatre of war, whereupon the troops reacted positively to the weapon though found several mechanical issues, the weapon has finally fully passed the full development stage and is ready for immediate mass production and combat service. Though heavier than the MG27 by 2 kg, the MG28's slightly superior fire rate and vastly superior muzzle velocity and range make it an ideal weapon. Though the MG27 will not be immediately put out of service, it will be slowly phased out.


Next is a new submachine gun, the MP29. After sending out a request for submachine guns among the various weapons corporations, the weapon introduced by the Steyr-Solothurn Waffen Company has been picked out and finally fully developed. The weapon has been called the "Rolls Royce von Maschinenpistolen," as the weapon utilises extremely high-quality material and general feedback has been extremely favourable of the weapon, with reports of it being extremely smooth and very reliable. However, due to the high costs to manufacture them, they will not phase out the MP28s, but will instead be supplementing them amongst the wider troops. Though regular soldiers will receive these weapons, higher priority will be placed on more elite units such as those of the Schwarze Gewahlt or other special forces.


Finally, this last part of the report will be devoted to aircraft. Due to rather poor treatment of development for the Luftwaffe, as well as the lack of skilled aircraft designers due to unspecified reasons, the Reichsluftfahrtministerium has deemed it fit to purchase and begin manufacturing of Sylbanian aircraft. Among those selected are the Fiat CR.20 fighter and Caproni Ca.101 bomber. Though these are stopgaps till better aircraft are designed by Warglorian engineers, they shall begin to phase out the most obsolete aircraft of the Luftwaffe.

End Report.

[Guuj Xaat Kil]

June 10th, 1929
Standpoint, Confederate Shishiri

"Most esteemed Warmaster, may I present. The completed Army of the West!"

The Battlemaster, a certain Powell T. Gogiid, pointed at the wide street below the balcony he and the Warmaster were on. Below were the thousands of soldiers marching in unison to the beat of "Krigvoynich Marsch", the Warmaster March. Indeed, today was quite the occasion, for the military primarily, as today the Army of the West had been formed and trained fully, and was ready to be deployed in battle. "And just in time too," thought the elderly Warmaster Alto P. Eadricing as he looked upon the marching infantry down below, "A true entry into the war is on the horizon." The Manchuko War as it was beginning to be called, was beginning to heat up into levels that eerily resembled the 9 Years War, and it was apparent that their Nihonese allies were on the losing side. One of the results was the Army of the West's training being mostly focused on defensive warfare, and the emperor gave the responsibility of training them to the Warmaster himself, saying that there was no one better at the job than the man who was perhaps the pinnacle of defensive warfare. And train them the Warmaster- along with their high command's officers, did. And now their training was up to the Warmaster's standards, and they could fortify the Nihonese in their share of Shishiri up north.

"Your training, as always, nothing but perfection," the Battlemaster said to Alto with a grin, "I hope that one day I may be able to do so myself." He didn't show it, but the Warmaster was growing ever so annoyed at the sycophant sitting next to him. He had known of the man's ambitiousness and ruthlessness before the Emperor appointed him as Battlemaster of the West, and his main goal that he pushed for whenever possible: his ascension to the position of Warmaster. To this goal the current one simply shook his head mentally, as him rising up to the post would mean issues down the road, big and irreversible mistake kinds of issues. For starters, the man was simply above average in terms of military knowledge, somewhat acceptable considering some Warmasters in the past were of the same level of expertise and yet were able to cement themselves in the history books, but it was this, combined with his emotional volatility and brashness in things, and a recipe for disaster was formed. Powell was a man that would charge out of defensive positions in a vain attempt to rout the enemy in glorious battle, but in this time and age, battles were anything but glorious, the Bog and Manchester Isle were examples of that.

He captured the Battlemaster's attention with a gesture of his hand, and with another gesture, beckoned him to go inside. At least the man knew what was going to happen, there was planning to be made. Soon the pair arrived at a large table, on it was a detailed two by one meter map of Shishiri. There were others already by the map, studying it, the 11th and 12th Corps Grandmasters, Skuujee H. Spatslt and Koyah K. Xidguns; the 6th Armor Corps Grandmaster, Tsaa Hamjuuwee; and the Support Corps Grandmaster Ivanhoe Johns. The latter-most of which was on the side of the table opposite of the balcony, and thus spotted them with ease. Soon their presence was known by the other three, and salutes were given. Alto simply raised his hand and soon, they were all seated by the table. "Gentlemen, what's the situation?" He asked them. It was the Supply Corps that spoke up first, "Thanks to our lack of official war declarations and our still ongoing blockade of Nihon from earlier in the Parsi Crisis, we have managed to secure ourselves a secure line of supplies," he told the Warmaster, "That and since all of our diplomatic overtures with Nihon has only resulted in a non-aggression pact and a wet tissue paper of an alliance that is not seen as a proper one by... Anyone relevant, any blockade attempts will be used to great extent for conversion into diplomatic incidents."

One had to wonder, why wasn't Ivanhoe Johns selected to be the Battlemaster of this army? A shrewd politician hailing from Derbamoc, a tactician that he could classify as 'good', and oddly enough, formerly an excellent blockade runner in both the Bronze Isles and the 9 Years Wars, in the former he was simply a young deck hand that became a captain through a mix of merit and good timing, as well as luck; while in the latter he had been an unofficial admiral of sorts, leading a extremely decentralized fleet of blockade runners on all seas bordering the former Rusklandian Empire, and he did his job excellently, until it was found out he evaded the draft and was pulled out to be conscripted, by then the Bog had happened, after the war he returned home and pursued politics. The Warmaster looked on this one with favor. The Grandmaster continued once Alto allowed him to with a gesture, he nodded before resuming, "Supplies will be sent through the inland only, anything over the water will arouse suspicion," he continued, "Other than the fact that our supply lines will be pressured the moment we enter the war officially with our defense of Nihonese Shishiri, I believe there are no issues with supplies."

"That's good to hear, now as for the defense of said Nihonese Shishiri, I believe separating our positions from the Nihonese would be important," Alto began as he looked at the map, "Main Nihonese positions are located mostly on their Shishiri's side facing the Hoosier coast, but we cannot rule out the possibility of a different angle of attack, and we would be forced to split our forces as a result. This will be alleviated somewhat as I have identified the most likely landing spots where the Hoosiers will be landing at, and near them I have spotted areas in which we can deploy our artillery without the risk of being fired upon by their naval artillery." He coughed about five times before getting his lungs in order. "I have selected areas from these in which we could not be fired upon while still being in a position to fire on the beach, we shall also make extensive use of radiomen and their equipment. Their placement shall be on these positions, areas in which they are able to see the beach head from below and take cover as well." he placed a hand on his chin, "Information of enemy positions shall be passed via radio morse, I assume your men are trained in deciphering them with speed?" Nods all around.

"I believe that the first wave can be handled by the Nihonese well, even after naval bombardments, it will be during the second wave that we shall make our appearance," he began pointing at areas on the map, "Artillery will begin firing once it is confirmed that the majority of the second wave has arrived in order to maximize casualties. In the event that the first wave appears to be succeeding, we will reveal ourselves early instead. If ever they succeed on making a beach head, we shall retreat to these areas, here... And here." He traced a pair of lines across the island with his finger. "I assume nobody has issues with these plans?" he raised his voice subtly, and it did the trick, getting nods all around, even from the Battlemaster, "Good, ready your men, drill them each day, for they could come at any time. Dismissed!"

They would begin their march north a day later.

July 15th

And come they did, word of a massive naval bombardment at one of the areas the Warmaster pointed out began, and it was apparently a conventional landing spot. They would not reveal themselves now, not yet.

[TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON]

Waters of Coast of Carriebean, Shishiri
June 2, 1929

The submarines had managed to do some damage, believing to have sunk two Manticorian destroyers, and hitting three others with the loss of two submarines and the old torpedo boat, yet at the same time, an expected and not bad result.

Occupied Manchuko
June 10, 1929

In occupied Manchuko, a strong resistance was brewing among Nihonese and Manchukoans alike, taking many shapes and forms. Some wrote in secret papers about the oppression and called for everyone to rise up against the invaders. Some tore down propaganda posters, and put up pro-Manchuko pro-Nihon symbols instead. Even the simplest forms of sabotage, including switching road signs to confuse the foreigners. Yet the more organized resistance acted in the shadows, damaging enemy vehicles, stealing from them, and snipers. A significant moment came when in hopes of training to launch a larger scale operation, a resistance group launched a strike on a small river bridge, for the most part untraveled by the enemy convoys, being too small, but still a symbolic step. Shun Gao was among the men who joined in.

He was young, just 19, and when the enemy had invaded, had witnessed brutality from the Hoosiers, who slaughtered his innocent Nihonese neighbors. He had hidden with his family and now seeking to get back at the enemy who had killed his friends, his father, he was ready.

A hunter in the small town before the war, he was excellent with a rifle just with its iron sights. All his life he had been a hunter, providing meat for his family until the Nihonese came, offering strange foods and what they called “imports” He had kept up the tradition however, and now took aim with his trusted hunting rifle. The small bridge was protected by two Hoosier guards, and in the dead of night and in the grass, the Manchukoans remained unseens. Moving in slowly, the other sniper took aim.

Shun leveled his rifle and slowly squeezed the trigger. In that second, the other man fired too, taking out the other guard. Shun could not afford to celebrate however, for now the task of covering the other men fell upon him as they looted off the enemy dead and planted improvised bombs on the traditionally made bridge. The fire caused was spectacular, yet the joy was stopped by the sound of distant sniper fire, from other lookouts closer to the town. The men rushed off into the darkness, and no matter how symbolic, they felt pride.

World-wide
June 11, 1929

In nations more friendly to Nihon, Nihonese began to start helping in every way possible to free their people the chains of oppression. In Aclus, the Nihonese Aclusian Citizen's League had begun publishing papers that presented views favorable to Nihon and the leader of the group had even organized a boycott of all Manticorian, Skartenian, Hoosier, Aydinirian, Breyburgian, and Rachanan products for the members. In Arengin Union, similar events were occurring.

Shishiri
June 14, 1929

On Shishiri, defenses had been very well prepared, having been built for around 4 years now, including the years of assistance from the Rusklandrs. Nihonese men stood ready, numbering 71 infantry and 3 armored divisions, with good supplies from Nihon and Ruskland, not to mention getting some ammo and food from Shishiri herself. Beaches and the surrounding coast were well mined, barricades in place, plus plans for a counter attack on the table. So now the defenses were prepared for when the enemy would come.

Sea of Nihon
June 20, 1929

A group of advanced Nihonese battleships and their escorts moved in on the sea that surrounded Nirah, now establishing a blockade of Aydinirian ships as to trap the enemy in their own port.

A new naval order for 1930 had been issued for four new battleships, 4 heavy cruisers, 8 light cruisers, and 30 destroyers had been issued.

Shishiri
July 15, 1929

Today Manticorian and Hoosier naval forces bombarded the coast, yet commanders knew to keep the artillery guns quiet, safer until the enemy started to roll out their infantry. Underneath the waters a deadly threat remained, naval mines. And should any unlucky ship find one, it would meet its end.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

July 16th, 1929

Hoosier private Steven Wagner clutched his rifle as the landing craft cruised towards the landing point in northern Shishiri. He took deep breaths as he and his platoon readied to make landfall. Hoosier and Manticoran ships had been bombarding the beach, as well as several other beaches where there would be no landing, for a while now. Hopefully, it would mean there weren't a lot of breathing Nihonese left.

Lieutenant Fischer, the officer in charge of Wagner's platoon, was carefully weaving between his men, offering words of advice and encouragement. He stopped as he reached the front of the landing craft and turned to face his men.

"Alright, boys," he said, "We're going in with the first wave. We need to secure the beach so more of our men can land. If we don't establish a beachhead here today, then the entire invasion is fucked. These Nihonese bastards don't have any resupply or reinforcements coming from outside of Shishiri. That being said, the whole damn island is swarming with 'em. We won't have air support for now, but flyboys are supposed to be on their way from the former Carribean. We take this beach, and we open up the road to the rest of this island."

"THIRTY SECONDS!"

Fischer was interrupted by the driver of the craft. He nodded to the driver and continued. "Get ready, boys. The moment the ramp drops, get the fuck off the boat. Don't bunch up, and keep moving, don't dig in. We have to get off the beach, or we're all dead."

"FIFTEEN SECONDS!"

"This is it. Get ready. Take no prisoners; they'll be doing the same, that's for damn sure."

The landing craft jolted forward as it hit the shoreline. As it came to a stop, the ramp dropped, exposing the beach and farther away Nihonese positions. Fire from Hoosier and Manticoran ships were directed farther away from the beach, to avoid friendly fire.

Right as the ramp dropped on Wagner's landing craft, and on the others that had made it to the beach, Nihonese machineguns opened up. The Hoosier soldiers charged out of their positions, many being cut down before they could make it a few feet. Bullets flew passed Wagner, striking his platoon mates as they ran.

"ON ME! TAKE THOSE POSITIONS!"

Wagner didn't know what else to do other than follow the voice of his commanding officer. There was little to no cover. He saw men firing from craters, from behind mounds of sand, and even from behind the bodies of their countrymen. Corpses littered the beach as they made their way forward.

An explosion blew Wagner off his feet. He stared up at the sky for a few moments, dazed and trying to catch his breath. The sound of battle seemed distant and not a threat.

"Move your ass!" The shout of his lieutenant and the tug on his arm brought Wagner back into the fight. He ran as Lieutenant Fischer dragged his towards cover behind a large sand mound where several men had gathered.

Wagner recognized none of the men he was with, other than his commanding officer. Several fired from their positions towards the Nihonese.

"What unit are you men from?"

"All kinds," one man, a corporal, said, "It's fucking chaos. No units are together, and men are dying, and-"

"Get it together, corporal. We need to advance. This barbed wire," he motioned to the obstacle on top of the hill, "needs to go. Get a fuckin' banger on it, now!" The man nodded and moved to find a man carrying one.

Lieutenant Fischer began speaking directly to the men as he took a glance at the sea once more. "We need to secure as much of this beach as possible. The second wave is coming in. We've taken heavy casualties but need to push on! When the barbed wire is gone," he said as he pointed to the men all up and down the line readying their Bangladore torpedos, "we charge. The second wave will follow us up, and we'll take those fucking positions."

"Ready?"

"NOW!"

The bangers exploded, creating several holes in the barbed wire for the Hoosiers to charge through. Wagner's voice joined the countless blood-curdling screams as the Hoosiers charged forward. They fired as they ran towards the Nihonese. As they closed the distance to their enemy, more and more of their brothers-in-arms fell. They hit the enemy trench lines and engaged in close-quarters combat. Wagner dropped two Nihonese with his rifle before stabbing one with his bayonet. All around him was chaos. Guns fired, men were stabbed and beaten to death, and it was hard to determine friend from foe. The Hoosiers were losing the engagement due to the sheer number of Nihonese.

Wagner felt the butt of a rifle hit the back of his head. He fell, the world a haze. He could barely make out the Nihonese soldier about to execute him.

This is how I die, he thought to himself.

Then, out of nowhere, a bullet ripped through the skull of the Nihonese. The second wave of Hoosiers had arrived. The Nihonese were stunned but began to fight back as more and more Hoosiers landed and made their way to the trenches.

Wagner began to lose consciousness. Before passing out, Wagner heard the hum of engines. Planes. The Hoosier Air Corps had arrived. Bombers began dropping their payload on Nihonese positions farther from the front while fighters defended them from any Nihonese air assets.

The overwhelmed Nihonese defenders were forced to either retreat or die. The Hoosiers had established their beachhead at a high cost.