December 30th, 2011 -- 1035 Hours
Echo Road,
Eastern Carlyonian Frontier, Region of Ellorea
Echo Road,
Eastern Carlyonian Frontier, Region of Ellorea
"Moische, hurry up your ass! We're gonna be late to the New Year's Eve party!" called the aggravated Staff Sergeant Bjorn Hedford. Henrik Moische, Nordic Jew from the Carlyonian State of Gustavenland, had recently had finished the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah) a few weeks ago. He was tall, lanky built; fair haired; and had cold blue impenetrable eyes. Moische was far from what anti-Semitic propaganda had styled Jews as. He smiled sadly as he remembered one time he was stationed in Romaza and a Nazi Party man had approached Moische.
The man had asked him to go to a Anti-Semitic Rally his party was hosting. Henrik had only smiled and said, "I'm a Jew. Deal with it." This caught the Nazi off guard. The man frowned an moved away from Henrik as fast his little fat legs could carry him. The memory had lingered in Moische's mind, here in this frozen hellhole. A place that numbed his body, but not his mind nor his soul. He spiritually relished in the cold climate.
"Moische, hurry the fuck up!" this time his fire team leader yelled this. Moische got up slowly as he didn't want to pass out. He turned to face the APC he wasn't supposed to ride in and headed for it. There was a faint sound. Very faint. But easy to distinguish as a chorus of hunting howls of a nearby wolf pack. He smiled as if remembering a childhood dream as he slumped into the APC's machine nest.
"Private Moische is aboard and ready," said the APC's driver, Corporal Hamstrum in a mic. The staff sergeant's voice was heard over the radio, "Bitch 1-5, you may proceed and lead the convoy."
Moische's APC, the Command Humvee, and the two APCs in the rear lurched forward. The road was covered in a pure white layer of snow and on top of that a foot thick sheet of ice, so the convoy had to move slowly. This was yet another dangerous task for this was rough territory because of the native Elloreans, Secret Order of Liberty rebels, or Lithonian insurgents were around. Moische cocked the turret gun just once. He wanted to prepared.
Hidden on the side of the road, a group of well camouflaged Insurgents waited. One was armed with SVD Drugnuv; aiming at the Humvee's driver. But the group hadn't bought any heavy or anti-vehicle weapons. The sniper fired, the shot's sound pierced the silence and the bullet slammed into the driver's window. It stopped there for there was bullet proof glass. The men jumped out of the APC's and the Humvee, firing as they went at the tree line. They were being supported by the three APCs' and the Humvee's gunners' constant hail of lead.
Henrik had pinpointed the exact location of the sniper, who was an amateur and hadn't displaced. The Carlyonian smiled coldly as he squeezed the trigger; unleashing a small bit of hell at the sniper's position. The form was that of machine gun incendiary bullets. The sniper was engulfed in flames from a bullet to the arm, and exited the forest writhing and howling in agony.
The firefight continue to rage for another twenty minutes as the blood, of both sides, splattered the pure white snow. The Carlyonian soldiers were now tossing fragmentation grenades into the forest. Followed by the satisfying spray of red mist combined with the explosion of fire, earth, and other shrapnel.
The soldiers were triumphant against the rebels ambushers but at a cost. Seven men and women wounded and one killed-in-action (Staff-Sergeant Bjorn Hedford). The senior of the two squad leaders immediately took charge, ordering the survivors to make a funeral pyre for Hedford and to get the wounded ready for transport. The survivors busied themselves for five minutes with these tasks.
They, then, gathered around Hedford's funeral pyre, as he was a Norse Pagan. Each of the survivors said their respective prayers from their various religions. The Carlyonians left the pyre ablaze as they all remounted the vehicles and the "Oscar-Mike" order came for them to pull out. Two hours before they would reach their home base and have their New Year's Eve Celebration.
July 1st, 2012 -- 0250 Hours
Kristiansand, Carlyonian Sovereignty
Region of Ellorea
Knock, knock, knock. Came the three rabid taps that signified there was someone at the door of the Deputy-Premier's Residence. Mikeal Straton had gone to bed early and has risen early to lay his daughter's birthday presents out. He was wearing his uniform and jack boots, and now could hear the rhythm of those boots making contact with the wood floor. Straton looked through the peephole and saw Colonel Villiam Valanger of Intelligence Regiment 5.
The moment Straton saw his comrade's face, he knew something was up. Mikael admitted his old friend to enter. Valanger quickly said as he entered, "Good morning, Mikael. I wouldn't have bothered you if this wasn't important."
Straton raised his eyebrow. He didn't care about the excuses, he just wanted the news. "Well, Valanger? Spill it."
"Ja, well its the LNA, they attacked us seven months ago, a unit that was returning to their home base in the Triangle for Unification Day."
"Well... What do expect the LIA to do? Sit there while we have our Beer-Vodka?! Put all forces: security, military, intelligence, and law, on high alert! And would you kindly activate Raven Battalion," Straton ordered. Valanger, nodding, rabidly rose and ran to the door, stumbling as he went.
"Oh and tell Premier Dorvgik as well," said Straton to Valanger as an after thought. The colonel nodded as he closed the door. Straton sighed and smiled at his old friend's usual nervous behavior. Then the Deputy Premier grabbed the TV remote to vegetate his mind for an hour or so.
The Premier's Palace, Kristiansand,
Carlyonian Sovereignty
The Premier, Gustav Dorvgik, was a short man relatively speaking. He was only five feet and nine inches with grey hair and cold blue eyes. He was reading a report behind his beautiful oak desk with Colonel Valanger in front of him at ease. " So mother Lithonia, is causing problems for the nation I have paid with my life for?"
Colonel Valanger shifted his weight uneasily, but kept his keen eyes on his leader before saying, "Your Excellency, I have got confirmation that these were Lithonian Nationalists terrorizing the Sovereignty." The premier looked up and stared at the colonel with his one good eye. The premier continued to stare at his intell officer, before saying,
"Colonel Valanger, this happened eight months ago. The trail has gone cold."
"Aye. But soldiers continue to be attacked by people in Lithonian uniforms," responded the colonel. The premier stood up and snapped at Valanger, "And what if they are Carlyonians instead Lithonians?"
"Sir, I have continued to make sure they aren't Carlyonian. I know this is a difficult situation, but you must understand that this nation comes before any of it's former or present states," the colonel was obviously reminding Dorvgik that.
Knock. Knock. Knock. "Enter." came the Premier's curt order. In came the Joint Military and Civilian Council, including Deputy-Premier Mikael Straton. The premier nodded at each of them then explained the situation. "As it is my responsibility to protect the Sovereignty. I will carry out the order: Invade Lithonia and occupy it for however it takes."
Mikael Straton nodded in agreement and said, "These Nazis have plagued the safety of this nation since their secession. Our former leaders during that time were too weak to destroy them and return our former territory to us." Many of the JMCC nodded and even more yelled "Aye" aggressively. The premier then said,"So it begins... We tread this path of blood... To victory or defeat."
State of West Lithonia,
Eastern Carlyonian frontier,
13th Mobile Artillery Brigade
Ring, ring. "Da? This is Brigadier Belancov's aide speaking," came the young officer's voice after she had brought her hand that was holding the phone to her head. Her beautiful Slavic face went from being inquisitive to being serious. Her voice had a taint of worry to it, when she spoke three minutes later, "Yes, Marshal Greshvik. The brigadier will be notified immediately."
She placed the phone on the desk and went through a door behind her desk for five minutes. Then a man appeared with the woman whom the man, obviously Brigadier Belancov, had called Anya. Anya was ordered to give the Brigadier the telephone. Belancov grabbed the phone and immediately snapped to attention and asked,
"Yes, Marshal Greshvik?"
"Ah, Sergei. I know this is a bad time, old friend, but the Premier has something for you to do," said the voice that belonged to Marshal Markus Greshvik. "And that is bomb the shit out of those Lithonian bastards! For too long they've been sending insurgents into our lands!"
"Yes, excellency. It shall be done," said Belancov. Then he heard the click of the other end being hanged up. Then the brigadier hung up. His face a daze, his head racing. Anya was waiting for Belancov's orders and he said," Execute Order 753."
Her eyes grew wide and breathed a prayer, "Oh God." before pressing the klaxon alarm button for the gunners to go to their stations. The men loaded their guns, rotated them towards Lithonia and elevated the range. They stood waiting, waiting for the order that would unleash the nation on the war path.
Belancov raised his phone that connected him to all his gun commanders. He said one word, almost a whisper. A whisper of the violence to come, "Fire." then the roar of the 155 howitzer guns could be heard... The war had begun.
