Planting the Flag [MT|Attn Oseato]

[Leistung]

Heart of Oak

Heart of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
we always are ready; Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.

Autobahn 1 North
Seventeen kilometers from Jena, Leistung

There had been considerable impetuosity from the automotive companies of Leistung when Chancellor Ziegler had chosen a Mercedes as his state car rather than a domestic brand. It was wholly indicative of the changing times; outsourcing and frankly inferior domestic models had set the entire automobile industry on its last legs. As he leaned back in the cushioned leather seat as the car roared down Autobahn 1 North, however, he felt none of those worries – in fact, with a glass of scotch and the knowledge that the Creusois independence referendum had been pushed until February at the earliest, the Chancellor felt almost happy.

He flicked on the satellite television perched in front of him, sinking back into the seat and taking another sip of his drink. A thin, attractive woman of some thirty years old stared back at him, reading the evening news reports as if they personally concerned her, her brow furrowed and lip trembling every time a death was reported. Had Ziegler not known her personally, he would have almost certainly flicked his eyes up in disgust and changed the channel. Insincerity was rampant these days, it seemed. The alternatives to LCN, however, were so far to the right that Ziegler was certain to find a story about how something he had done in the past week was to destroy the nation by 2010; he could not deal with the irritation – not when he had already broken out his bottle of scotch.

As he moved to the power button on his control, his eyes already tracking his novel which would likely get him back to Falkenberg without losing too much faith in the state which had elected him, his ears caught something Miss Freud had just said. He turned the volume up and placed his glass of scotch on the table before him.

“In other news,” she started, attempting to control herself after her tirade about some child in Osterwieck who had gone missing. “Ministers within the government report that a large formation of troops and ships were headed out of Ostritz this morning, bound for points unknown. The Ministry of Defense claims that this is in response to the recent news that Oseaton regiments in Traanskoraveld will be reinforced this coming month.” Ziegler’s eyes widened. He had stepped off the Landsberg-bound plane some fifteen minutes ago, and already a crisis had come up? And furthermore, one which the Minister of Foreign Affairs had seen fit not to notify him of, and one that the Minister of Defense had deemed important enough to deploy troops over without his go-ahead? His fingers had dialed the man before his mind had even begun to come to conclusions.

“Herbert,” he stammered. “By God man, what is happening in Lisosia – fleets moving and not so much as a word to me?” Before the burly man on the other end of the line had answered, Ziegler had already drowned his scotch and poured himself another glass, and television channels were now being run through as fast as his thumb would allow it.

“Chancellor, the situation is developing, and it is quite late,” Zimmermann replied, obviously having just been woken up by the phone call. “It poses no immediate threat to the nation, and most certainly could have waited until morning.” A yawn was clearly audible on the other side of the line. “I suppose now that we’re both up, however…”

“This is somehow related to the business with Oseaton troop movements?” Ziegler asked. The clock had tolled midnight, and as the news stations began their sign-off and the Aue Choir began what must have been its ten thousandth rendition of the national anthem, all thoughts of sleep that night had passed from the Chancellor’s mind. “Has the Oseaton ambassador been contacted?”

“No, Chancellor,” the Minister responded, barely containing a laugh. “We felt that it was best from a military standpoint to not inform them.” Ziegler allowed himself a smirk at the nation’s expense as his eyes caught a petrol station which proudly displayed its ‘Supplied by Coalition Oil!’ banner. “The Minister of Defense made clear that you had given the go-ahead for establishing Leistungi colonies to block Oseaton moves if something like this came up. He acted completely within his bounds”

“Keep me updated on the situation until I reach Falkenberg; alert the Bundeskriegministerium that they should prepare possible scenarios and outcomes, beginning with a move toward the West Islands to establish the most important bases. I’ll alert Hafenstadt personally.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Zimmermann affirmed. Ziegler hung the phone up a moment later, and Herbert turned to his wife in bed, who he had evidentially woken up with government business once again.

“Shall I get a pot of tea on, then?” she quipped, yawning slightly. Herbert closed his eyes and nodded, ripping himself out of bed and toward his office.

Bundesmarine Command
Hafenstadt, Leistung

“Understood, Chancellor,” Beckenbauer said, his dry, booming voice having issued those words to four Chancellors, every time preceding a procession of teary-eyed mothers. He hung up the line without another word and turned to his counterpart. “You’d best get the boys back to their ships, Johan,” he said, keeping a straight expression. “We may yet have use of them.”

Johan nodded solemnly and drowned his coffee. He pressed his thumb down on the PA button on his desk, installed after the Siege of Hafenstadt, and cleared his throat. “This is an all points bulletin from the government in Falkenberg,” he started, the same way as he would have for any announcement. The vast majority of the city had already likely identified his voice, and had he stopped there, the message still probably would have gotten across. “An immediate mobilization order has been granted to the forces stationed in Hafenstadt Naval Base. All enlisted and commissioned men in the vicinity of Hafenstadt are hereby ordered to report to their vessel for roll call by 0600 hours.”

He repeated the message five times, waking up some twenty five million people from their slumbers in the process. The message was to be repeated at naval bases across the nation, and by morning the Chancellor would likely have already issued his official statement to the nation. Though he felt obvious remorse at the fates of the innocent men who would be sent to stem the tide of tyranny, Beckenbauer could not help but smirk at the thought of the mighty Bundeswehr bearing down on Lisosia with the fury of a thousand warships.

Offizielle Erklärung der Leistungi Regierung

The Leistungi government with the full backing of the people of the Federal Republic has seen fit to claim the following pieces of unclaimed territory as integral parts of the Leistungi Union. Let it be known that any moves against these states will henceforth be considered moves against Leistung itself and be treated as such.

• West Lisosian Islands

The preceding territories can be seen visually on the following map.

Sincerely,

Hans Ziegler
Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Leistung

[Oseato]

(OOC: Unless you already have land in Lisosia, or have talked to Stoklomolvi, you are not to claim land in this thread. If you want to have a war with Birkaine, TG him about it, but this is not the place to randomly announce it. Please no OOC comments in the thread. Thank you.)

Vrystaat Governmental Complex
Suidpoort, Transkooraveld

News of the Leistungi reinforcement and expansion spread like wildfire throughout the colonial offices of Transkooraveld. Officers ran the halls of the old governor's office that now served as the home to the Ministry of Defense and Office of Colonial Affairs attempting to locate maps of the islands the Leistungi ships were headed to colonize. Generaal Metje's, the defense minister, office was a microcosm of the chaos that was sweeping the building. Members of the 4th Leër's general staff ran in and out of the room attempting to bring in intelligence and leave with orders. Metje just stood over the map, seemingly removed the growing chaos.

Many that would have seen this would have assumed that Metje was simply out of his depth, overwhelmed with the rapid developments of the past hour. But in truth, he was remaining calm while his staff ran around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. After a while the staff began to take notice of their commander's inaction and activity slowly ground to a halt. All eyes were on the Generaal as he began to speak.

"The Leistungi government merely announces its intention to colonize the 'unclaimed territory' to our east and you all begin to lose your focus, what would happen if they had actually started conducting military operations against us?" Metje paused and looked around the room at the point before continuing, "Once again they have us stepping to their own beat, and not our own. We've been preparing for this for a long time, we all know how to handle the blouneks and their weaponry."

With that he moved to the wall where a map of the region had finally been put up. "They plan to colonize these islands to our west, we all know why, and we know how. The question is whether or not we are in a position to stop them," with that Metje turned to his assembled staff, and with a look that can only be described as determined, began to issue orders. "This story of theirs, that they only move in response to our own reinforcements, let's make that a reality, I want someone to brief Governor Muller while I inform the High Command. Also, where's my naval attache?" Metje looked for the white coated officer, "ah yes, you there. Inform Admiral van de Rei that he is to sail immediately, I know some of his ships are still in former Tynemouth, but the rest are here. Tell him to move west and keep an eye on the situation. Further orders will be sent when I am prepared."

"Now, gentleman, I don't wish to be relegated to the sideline while the Federalemarine prepares for some climactic naval battle for the ages. No, I have something much different in mind." The room seemed the lean closer as the Generaal began to outline his plan. The Oseaton response was in motion.

----

To: OPEN MISSIVE | From: Office of the Minister of Defense | Sub: Actions | Encryption: none

Nations of the world,

The world is once again subject to the imperialist whims of the Leistungi government and it's completely lack of restraint when it comes to military operations. Not long ago the Leistungi Bundesmarine entered Oseaton waters and sank the Oseaton Home Fleet while it attempted to recover wreckage from a downed airliner that had violated Oseaton airspace. Now they claim that they are moving to secure these unclaimed territory as integral to their "Union." Integral to what? Threatening foreign governments? This "Leistungi Union" is simply a guise for the growing Leistungi Empire that will stop at nothing to dominate any that dare oppose their aims.

As such the Transkooraveld Vrystaat, in conjunction with the Federasie van Oseato, will not stand the for the blatant acts of imperialism, particularly this close to our own shores. The Federalemarine and Federaleleër have begun to mobilize to block these claims. We will not stand for Leistungi aggression to encircle the Vrystaat, and will fight if necessary.

Most Sincerely,

Fredrik Metje
Generaal, Federaleleër
Minister of Defense for Die Transkooraveld Vrystaat

[Leistung]

x

[Tuya-Saratov]

Muzika

Zepushkë Sektori, 20 kilometers outside trading city Kuçovë in Tropical Fshati

Major 'Zapushkë' controlled his breath, his mouth the only venue for ingesting and exhaling the large volume of air required to maintain a human being. The sound of his respiratory actions were echoed, not in the definitive sense but in silence, by that of his entire uniform out with him in the jungles that evening. Forty-two men were all that had accompanied him on the excursion, of the original seven hundred men that the Major had entered into Tropical Fshati with only about a hundred twenty were left. Most of the replacements for his fallen men consisted of Pushkë e Ballina, home grown warriors in the rough - though materially rich - jungles of the land, their own language and culture of some Asiatic origin was replaced - as with every soldier in the Ushtar Blerë për Luftërat e Jashtme (Usbëluj) - with Albanian language and Islam. Needless to say this made recruits a bit harder to train and a guard of at least sixty men would have to be placed at all times to prevent any unseemly rebellions or escapes. Ever since troops had been pulled back to the homeland from every colonial holding for the Esloyak-Zayet conflict his last group of Ballina were also taken and he was charged with recruiting and training a third group, the first having been wiped out in recapturing Djëki an important garrison for the logmen that worked the land for Donald.

Now the Major and his men were crawling threw the Arabisht Rain Forest, it was known that a 'popular front' had been formed here and had been launching night-time raids on the outposts near Kuçovë. However a large attack was launched against the vital trade center of Kuçovë and that was unacceptable, if profits went below a certain margin the Major could be discharged or even shot. The gear of his men was very different then their first-issued khakis and rucksacks, after years of fighting in the brutal terrain all that remained on their now bronzed skin was a rain cover, native-stitched pants and bandoleers for their 7.62 NATO chambered Galil's. The surrounded scene was of mass foliage, alien to the vast majority of the world and adamant keeper of the vast riches hidden deep in its surface. Intelligence had informed them that a light putter of smoke could be seen three miles north-west of his position, it was expected to be that of a newer unit. Such a mistake could, and was planned to, lead to the destruction of the entire guerrilla movement in the region. Two HIND transport-attack helicopters were on 'impetus status' on the military section of Kuçovë, sixteen of the original troopers in Zapushkë's unit would be rushed into the aircraft and lifted to their aid.

A trickle came down as they reached within a hundred meters of where the smoke had been spotted, though there was no sign of the smoke but there was a higher concentration of broken twigs from what his tracker Corporal Dkaki had reported. As an odd wet leaf slapped him in the eye he twisted quickly hitting several branches and twigs abrasively, even a rabbit was spooked and ran off. His surrounding men hit the dirt quickly, they knew that that mistake would have a horde of Communists rammed down their throat. Zapushkë knew this too and ordered all his men to stay low threw the non-verbal use of hand signals, he got on the radio to speak to the HIND commander, "Të jenë gati." The Major scanned the area, it was odd for them not to attack at the slightest moment and the signs of human crossing - while feint - gave a pretty strong beacon of their habitation of this area. Instinctively he rubbed the warm wooden hand guard on the belly of his rifle, he felt another few splashes on his hand as the small trickled evolved into a torrent such a metamorphosis was a common occurrence in Tropical Fshati. A group of errant birds began to flutter about and the recent hid whether this was because of an enemy or running for cover against nature. "Qij këtë vend." The Major muttered under his breath.

Muzika

Finally an hour passed and the rain continued at its furious pace, Zapushkë noted the strength of the native trees as they attempted to stand firm against the weight of collective water. When one was finally broken it created a mighty splash that forced most of the men in the vicinity to aim their guns in reaction, once more the tree limb quickly snapped back into shape to again gather more rain water. Threw the complex sign language of the Usbëluj the Major ordered the men to move forward with extreme caution, including having a bit more then tactical spacing. As the first front soldier walked less then ten meters an erupting pitter-patter could be heard, it was an odd aquatic echo that could only be heard when guns and precipitation mated. It was what Zapushkë and all his men had prayed against, not only had the Communists bastards surrounded them they had given them time to set up weapons and zero in, soon mortar rounds would be falling from the sky right on top of their heads and more of the men who had fought in this tropical hell would never see home. Zapushkë screamed over his radio, "Ne kemi nevojë për këto helikopterë!" The peculiar bang continued from all around them as his troops desperately attempted to return fire, already the lead man had fallen.

It was just as suspected, rounds came smashing to the earth and there was no way to even hear them incoming since the rain and the assiduous fire drowned it out. Zapushkë was on the floor, threw the dense rain he could make out his tracker's face. Corporal Dkaki was easy to pick out at he only wore native khakis, mixed body paint and used a Mauser 98k, how he got the ammunition for the rifle was a secret only he knew. Even though the volume of incoming fire was horrendous the visibility in the rain had melted his unit into the landscape. Zapushkë looked up to see over a dozen different bullet's flight paths cut threw the rain, screams also permeated the air after every mortar round impacted his group. As he rested his rifle on a large log he saw right in front of him a grouping muzzle flashes, he aligned the back post with the front and aimed it right at the man on the right a splash hit against the metal and increasing the enemy soldier's lifespan by a few seconds. As he squeezed the trigger softly a bullet propelled by trapped gases flew out and stop the muzzle flash, around him he could hear the distinctive crack of Galils. His unit had been shaken but not destroyed.

Five minutes into the fighting the artillery proved to be the only real risk as Zapushkë was able to get his thirty-one men left to form a thin perimeter to repel and return enemy assaults and fire. The Major was able to get his senior staff for the mission, Lieutenant Jhsaki and Corporal Dkaki together. "Vjedh deri shtatë burra të tjerë, ne jemi duke shkuar për të sulmuar." They nodded nodded and several minutes latter eleven mud-covered faced convened, "Mortajë është marramendës njerëzit tanë copa-copa. Unë besoj se është në veri, kështu që ne do të arrijnë të thellë." It was understood that their shoulders rested the lives of all the men that had been encircled. Zapuskhë pushed his body against the ground forward, the rain coat was slick and allowed him to move quickly like a fish in water. The rain beat against his body like a drum, but because of all the sound that was being made it would be covered. A large outline of man appeared above him, he was standing straight up firing his AK-47 wildly into the Major's unit. This infuriated him as he grabbed his rifle - the bayonet attached firmly to it - quickly pushed himself up with his knee and along with it his gun-knife ramming forward into the space between the enemy's rectum and testicles, the reaction was an epic orchestra of expressed pain.

Muzika

Zapushkë men followed with the attack as they too lunged up and emplaced their bayonets in all parts of the human anatomy, the surrounding guerrillas either paralyzed by fear or shocked into breaking away. The former would be cut down without hesitation, survival of the fittest. It was as though no one had noticed their attack, as if it had been lost in the scale of the battle there was no counter-attack, "Ndoshta komunistët janë të dobët se sa pritej." The Major received a transmission over the radio from a hovering helicopter and he was fast to reply, "Helikopterë, të gjeni dhe të vrasë ata mortaja." And with that order the helicopters sped off in search of the mortars that had continued to rain down on his unit back in the pocket. He dropped to the floor as water continued to hit him, it would only be a matter of time before the helicopters wiped out the targets and the communists would be unsupported and pushed back. The Major was so sure of this that he took off his helmet. After staring into it idly, blind to the continued fire - though the battlefield was now mute of enemy artillery - and screams of Albania and some asian language around him. He saw a small pool form in the bottom of his turned helmet and with that he reminded being a bit parched, one would think that would be the least of your concerns in this kind of place. He lifted it up and tipped the back up and swallowed all the water that had coalesced. The sudden taste was of sweat, blood and gun powder and Zapushkë spit out with out remorse his taste for anything in this land had ended. The redundancy of Tropical Fshati had finally run its course on the Major, he wouldn't be able to handle anymore swarming mosquitoes or sneaking fucking rebels of god-knows-what ideology or religion.

Zepushkë Sektori, Inside Military Headquarters of Kuçovë in Tropical Fshati

Inside the roofed abode all the men were shirtless they had managed to set up several different games using the crude equipment that surrounded them, mostly sports that had the word 'ball' in it and tennis. Zapushkë had just downed an eighth Wired Albanian when he got a call from high command, it was well known of the harsh conditions of the economic colony and such alcoholism only grew more rapid up the chain of command. The commander went on for about an hour on all the exploits that he and his men had accomplished and how brave they were, the normal morale-boosting bull shit but then came along 'relieve' and the Major was quickly sobered. "Ne do të lëvizë një njësi të re të sektorit tuaj. Të gjithë ju duhet të bëni është të organizojnë 3. Pushkë e Ballina tuaj dhe ne do të kemi të zhvendosura." He was ecstatic with the news, he didn't give a blazing fuck where he was headed to all he cared was that he wouldn't be in Tropical Fshati. "Mirë për të parë të lumtur tuaj. Ju jeni edhe në komandën e njësive e Pushkë Ballina ju trajnuar, nënkoloneli." The Ma-... The Lieutenant Colonel knew that something like this wouldn't be good, there was some sort of price to be paid... 'Një marrëveshje pavullnetshme me djallin.' Zapushkë thought to himself. As the phone call ended he was finally informed that his new assignment was 'Pushimi Vendi' the only problem was that is was no where in the database...

-OOC: So pretty much I'm sending 5,000 troops and escort here. If you need a naval ORBAT just ask threw TG or IRC-

[Oseato]

Luftmacht Station Vandurn
Vandurn, Transkooraveld

The large turboprops of the transport planes carrying elements of the 21st Luchtlandingsdivisie created a dull throb as they went about taxiing and taking off. The planes were headed to as yet unnamed island well to the south of the Vrystaat. It was the obvious opening move to Metje's plan, the counter colonization of the southern island to keep an eye on the Leistungi installations there. Oseato couldn't just allow the Leistugnis to dominate the local waterways that were the lifeline of the Vrystaat colonies.

The lumbering transports would be the first wave of Oseaton forces to move out and secure the vital shipping routes, while other forces prepared their heavy equipment for transport to the small island. Once there a base would be set up in order to maintain a long term presence on the island, including air facilities and some dockyards.

Atleast that was what Kaptein Adriaan Coetzee had been told by his superiors. What would actually happen was always up in the air when it came to the dealings of the Federaleleër. Coetzee commanded the pathfinder company that would lead the assault on the island and establish proper landing zones for the follow on forces. They expected little to no resistance from the small island, though they were prepared for any eventuality. While most of the men of the company, and in truth the entire division, were veterans of several jumps and of the Tynemouth campaign many of the men were nervous about the pending jump. While the jump would be made in poor conditions, it was further complicated by the small size of the targeted island. No one wanted to overshoot the drop zones and end up in the water, particularly in rough seas.

Coetzee himself was more nervous that usual due to the fact that Kolonel van der Naal, the brigade commander, had decided to join his company in it's jump. The Kolonel was just one more complication to an already nerve wracking operation. Coetzee would have much preferred be left to command his company without his overbearing commander, who had no combat experience and little jump experience, micromanaging and second guessing everything he did. In the end Coetzee just shook his head and put the thoughts into the back of his mind as the plane rumbled into the air. It would be a long flight, he'd have to dwell on things again later. In the mean time he merely shut his eyes and let his head rest against the back of the cabin wall trying to get some sleep.

FMS Leonard TerBlanche
Oseaton Third Fleet, South Lisosian Sea

Once again the Third Fleet was pounding through the waves of the South Lisosian Sea. Only this time Admiraal Johannes van de Rei was aboard the TerBlanche while the Siegel was in port going through a routine maintenance check following the dual conficts of the battle with Western Estainia and combat actions against the Grestonian military assets in former Tynemouth. As ever the fleet was preparing for battle, running countless drills and launching aircraft. A vast number of aircraft aloft were AWACS aircraft to monitor the battlespace around the fleet. The Federalemarine had spent an immeasurable amount of time studying the previous defeat of the Oseaton Home Fleet to the Leistungi Second Fleet and finding ways to improve the tactics used by the fleets. High amongst them was the importance of AWACS aircraft and other technologies in order to get a clearer picture of the battle and the area around the fleet allowing for more reaction times and higher levels of useful information.

Van de Rei hoped that the lessons learned wouldn't have to be put to the test, as no officer in the Federalemarine wanted to go up against the Bundesmarine if they could avoid it. Thankfully the Third Fleet was currently tasked not to the interdiction of the Leistungi ships and troops but with escorting the 13th Mariniersdivisie to the newly claimed Rooieilands west of the Vrystaat. Similar to the operation that the airborne unit had been assigned to, the marines of the 13th would begin to colonize and build up the selected islands in order to develop a large number of defensive structures and airfields in order to block any Leistungi threat.

The marines could be seen on the decks of their transports and LPD's going through work out routines and prepping their weaponry. Overhead helicopters hopped from ship to ship exchanging personnel and delivering supplies while planes flew CAP over the fleet. It would be only a few hours before the troops were delivered to their respective islands and Admiraal van de Rei was going to do his best to make it an uneventful few hours.

----

To: Chancellor Ziegler | From: Office of the Minister of Defense of Transkooraveld| Sub: Intentions| Encryption: none

While the word of the Leistungi government may be enough for some nations to take at face value, the history of hostility toward the Federasie and its colonies is overwhelms any possible trust one might seek to establish. As such, the Federasie, through the Vrystaat, has determined to further secure it's interests in the region in the name of national defense.

As such, the Rooieilands as well as the Midpad Atoll have been claimed in the name of the Federasie and are now to be considered sovereign Oseaton territory. Any attempts to interfere with this operation will be met with the same force promised by your own communications.

Most Sincerely,

Fredrik Metje
Generaal, Federaleleër
Minister of Defense for Die Transkooraveld Vrystaat

[Tuya-Saratov]

D&C.S. Udhëtar, Wasp-Class LHD & Novi Plaža

Lieutenant Colonel Zapushkë laid back in his officer chair, there were to neat piles of paper on his desk the one on the right much larger then the other. The Colonel sighed as he grabbed his dress-cap and threw it gently on the floor, it had taken him most of their sea-faring time to get most of the 'wood' - army jargon for paper work - burnt and he was going to take his first long break in as much time. He looked over at his now dirtied cap, it was an all tan cap with a red lining around the seems and his rank on the left-side of the peak. The Colonel got up, using the chair's arms to help leverage himself and the sticky neatness of his well-pressed uniform bit at him. He wondered if he'd take the drop now knowing what kind of boredom and monotony it entailed, for example the new G3D3s - G3A3's with a wooden stock and Brügger & Thomet railed forend - had taken him a week's time of work and he wanted to leave them with the weapon they had used in training. They explained this by saying that the Galils would be better off for the troops staying in Tropical Fshati and that the weapon was overall better, but he knew that some kind of cash had to be involved. It was a corporation after all. After standing there stewing in his regret and anger over the wood he bent over to pick up his cap which he brushed off lightly and went to do his rounds of the 100. Faqja Pushkët e Regjimentit të Fshati Tropikale.

Front Private Tao 'Zaburri' cursed at his friend, they had been talking about the last girls they had laid with before being shipped out and for some of the older troopers the plethora of women that had slept with across the country - of course there was some friendly exaggeration - and their different peculiarities. "I tell you that fucking new gun their giving us, it's a sign that they'll be a lot of changes. I tell you this." Zaburri went off in his first language, he was considered paranoid by the rest of the group and many of the veterans assured him and his comrades there was no danger. "Eh, fuck you guys. Anyways there's so much fucking weight on the back of that gun it just ain't balanced." They agreed and many of the 'Vjeç' - roughly translated as elder - considered it the worst rifle they'd have to work with, in fact many of the men had smuggled their FALs and Galils onto the ship. One thing about the corporation was the ammunition was always universal. Zaburri looked into his reflective water and up into his face which was now shaved and uniformed, almost a complete opposite of the little farmer boy that took showers bi-monthly in the creek bed. As he looked up the Colonel had entered the room and some unnamed NCO yelled, 'Kud-jes!' and all the men in the cafeteria were stiff-backed and facing the commanding officer.

After his address to the men Zapushkë was thoroughly wiped out, he had promised them glory and honor yet he knew how little training they had received with their weapons, amphibious warfare and in general since most of the newer men hadn't even finished basic. The Colonel went over the data again and again, the small island was home to around a hundred thousand people and had developed into a thriving capitalist monarchy with the aide of their strong right-wing economic policies, fishing and limber exports. Satellite intelligence and before-hand bribery of some mid-ranking military officers revealed a standing army of some thousand troops and high-quality equipment. All Zapushkë had to defeat the 'Principality of Crveno' was a wing of helicopters, three hovercraft, six harriers, two destroyers and over a thousand - mostly - ill-trained recruits. His only option was to launch the attack on a small beach that wouldn't be able to fit more then a company at a time. He began to orchestrate the operation in his head, too weary to get up from his bed and write it down on the chalk board. The first-wave of troops would be launched using the three LCAC's, the first seventy-two men would set-up a perimeter and wait for the helicopters to arrive and reinforce them with a company or two. A big grin took his face as he thought about his military planning, he thought a plan like that deserved a good name. Operacija: Promjena Zastave, was his last thought as he drifted off into sleep.

A massive wave came tumbling over the sides of the hovercraft and crashed into Zaburri and the men in his unit, knocking him down and covering his eyes with the tip of the helmet. As he got back on his feet - thanks to the aide of his rifle - he bumped the helmet back up so he could sea clearly. As he looked around a picture of puking men was taking hold, even in an attempt to escape the disgusting scene he looked down only to find a swamp-green color replace the expected dark blue. At this he finally gave way and release the treasure of his bowels along with most of the men on board. With this new sick feeling he gripped onto his rifle more then he had ever done before not even checking if the safety switch was on. His only hope to regain any sort of honor and vindication was the Vjeç that had been put in command of his section, Master Sergeant Zatrupi. As he looked for him aboard the craft he finally spotted Zatrupi, his back straight, his demeanor invigorating and with his beloved FAL's barrel clutched firmly by his right hand supporting him the idyllic image was complete among the rest of the chaotic happenings. Upon arrival by both the 'fleet' and Zapushkë the Principality had been given an ultimatum, surrender or parish in defense and too their honor they chose the later. The only issue with Promjena Zastave was that rough seas had postponed the landing a day and had it not been for Zapushkë adamancy in launching the attack quickly for the least-defended beaches it would have been two, even now the ripping ocean threatened the seventy-four fighting men about to land.

When the LCAC hit the slight slope on the beach the puke-salt water titled to the back and all the men in the rear would have boots full of the stuff had they not put on their uniform to exact specifications. As the last hovercraft opened up its ramp a horrendous sound came and then a wall of lead objects pelted the vehicle, knocking out its fan and puncturing holes in the air pocket. Zaburri threw himself on the ground along with all of the men in the first wave, the machine gunner was now beginning to turn his fire away from the downed craft - the other two having escaped - and onto the men. Master Sergeant Zatrupi yanked him by the collar and began to tug him as he yelled out, "Shkoj në fshat!" and waved his hands toward end of the beach which lead into a small town. Zaburri looked at front of the beach which was cut off by a rapidly graduating hill and as he followed the height, simultaneously being pulled by his leader, he saw where the machine gun fire was coming from and the enemy seemed to have a few buddies helping him too. Bullets peppered the ground around them a few distant screams could be heard and the last section that had been hit immediately by the gunner where finding cover behind their former transport. One of Tao's classmates in Basic had thrown off all his heavy gear except his rifle and darted the town, this made him smile as he saw by how quickly the man was moving he'd be the first to safety. Though as he eyes continued to follow his classmate he also saw a trail of bullets running behind him, with every second they inched closer and his friend ran a bit faster. Tao screamed for him to run faster but as soon as this mighty roar had let out an enemy round had clipped his friend's foot and sent him spiraling forward meanwhile being littered with fire.

With that sobering event he was now aware of the battlefield, he finally noticed the crisp crackle of the bullet zinging past him and the fearsome ping of a ricocheted bullet and now a new sound had been brought to the battle, artillery. First it was the maniacal 80mm mortars then the larger calibers fell onto the beach, Zaburri was just so surprised about how quickly a battle - indeed and entire area - can change as he just recently hopped over a cobblestone divider that only raised about two thirds of a meter on the opposite side to the gunner. As the forty-some men that surrounded him began to return semi-auto fire Zaburri looked back over the wall to see fourteen men huddled behind their downed craft, most of them he knew from Basic. As rounds and mortar fell all around them and they grew closer and closer a heavy artillery shell landed right in the middle of the men completely tearing them to shreds, one of their arms had flew into divider he and most of the survivors used as refuge. Zaburri would have puked had his stomach contained some kind of food, but at this stage in the fighting he was running on mostly adrenaline. The field commander, a First Lieutenant 'Zamacja' had been radioing in for helicopter support and told his men that they'd be getting a pair of Harriers to take out the machine gun. After this news the men were in good spirits until a head count was called and only forty-one men were accounted for, the other thirty-one were laying around on the beach somewhere.

"Të pasme tonë!" Zatrupi yelled in his coarse voice and as Zaburri turned around he saw large military-looking truck pull to a stop behind. As the men raised their guns and began to open fire it florid into reverse, some uniformed men fell off the sides as it did so and these men rushed to the divider directly behind Zaburri's. With one mighty thrust Zatrupi threw a grenade some forty meters and landed it behind the divider killing, maiming or causing the enemy to flee. Even so they had paid the price for not watching their rear as eight more men became casualties in this war. Just as the assiduous peppering of the divider by the machine gunner and company accompanied by the heavy shelling of the beach hitting their men twice or more had began to break their morale a screeching noise was heard as a pair of low flying aircraft the the gunner's position with a buttload of explosives and sent huge columns of firing into the air. A rousing cheer was yelled threw the group as the men took off their helmets and waved them fanatically but at this a triple-A battery hit one of the Harriers with a string of firing leading to its disintegration and the second one trailed by missile, as it began to catch up to the air plane the pilot launched his chaff and disappeared into the clouds, his fate unknown to the men. "Le të lëvizin jashtë!" Zatrupi said with ambivalent enthusiasm. "Duket si koloneli nuk do të na ndihmojë jashtë." This revealed his true feelings as he muttered it under his breath.

D&C.S. Udhëtar, Wasp-Class LHD

Zapushkë was swamped with questions, suggestions and demands it was difficult for him to think as more information was thrown at him at a furious pace. If he sent helicopters to reinforce the men as planned they could get shredded up to pieces, if he used his hovercraft he could lose the rest of them to artillery fire or more small arms and trap even more men. There was one thought constantly flashing threw his mind, abandon them. He couldn't though, they were his men many had entered the service on his personnel suggestion and now he was contemplating leaving them to die, no he would have none of that. Finally he stood up in the room of all his advisers and told them his next command, "Leviz anije sa më pranë të jetë e mundur. Dua burra të kenë mbështetjen e plotë." The advisers and subordinates nodded and agreed, the destroyers would be brought as close as possible to aid the survivors. He barked at one orderly, "Më sillni një linjë të drejtpërdrejtë me ta!" the unsuspecting boy was a bit shocked but would undoubtedly return with the line to the survivors. The Mark 45 Mod II 127mm guns that had been attached to each Arleigh Burke had a range of twenty-four miles and would only have to be a mile out to support the troops, this could be exactly what the troops needed to survive until rescue.

The young man had returned with the link and a Lieutenant Kamacja on the end, he was screaming about the artillery getting closer to their position and the men that had been repeatedly blown up on the beach. With a satellite map in front of him Zapuskhe calmly relayed orders to the Lieutenant, though he was suppressing a tremendous amount of stress at the moment. "Toger, unë dua që ju të lëvizin njerëzit tuaj në një shtëpi të vogël poshtë rrugës. Nëse keni nevojë për ndonjë radio mbështetje atë në artileri dhe ju do të merrni atë. Ju duhet të kursejnë municion, kështu që nuk përpiqet për të xhiruar në qoftë se nuk është e nevojshme. Ne nuk e dimë kur ne mund t'ju nxjerrin nga atje, por ne nuk do të braktisin ty." The Lieutenant responded positively and told him that they were going to make a run for the cottage, but he suspected that there were a few snipers calling in artillery and didn't know if the place would hold up the large caliber fire. The Colonel responded softly, "Një hap në një shok kohë, një hap në një kohë." At this the field commander's voice changed a bit as he said good-bye to Zapushkë. Not only could this operation look bad on his resumé but his men could lose the hard-won faith he had earned in Tropical Fshati, and with that thought he ached for the past a bit more.

- OOC: Here's the map of Crveno. Here's the map of Operacija: Promjena Zastave.
ORBAT
Zapushkë TaskeForce:
1329 Enlisted*
197 Officers*
2 Arleigh-Burke Destroyers
1 Wasp-Class LHD
5 Harrier Attack Aircraft
4 AH-1W SuperCobra Attack Helicopter
12 CH-46 Sea Knight Helicopters
4 CH-53 Sea Stallion Helicopters
3 UH-1N Huey Helicopters
2 LCAC Hovercraft

*does not include casualties. -

[Noordeinde]

The Office of the President
The Grand Duchy of Noordeinde

Official Press Release

To: Whom it may concern
Subject: West Lisosian Islands dispute

Sir, Madam,

Afther having deliberated for hours and having spoken to both Ambassadors from Oseato and Leistung His Royal Majesty's Government of Noordeinde has decided to support the Transkooraveld Vrystaat van Oseato.

It is very clear to us that the BundesMarine of Leistung and the Leistungi Government have violated the territoy of the Vrystaat and should therefore be condemned for this blame act of imperialism.

As a sign of our support to the Vrystaat and with permission of our Congress we hereby offer the assistance of two of our vessels of the Royal Noordeindian Navy to support the Federalesmarine.

The ships we are willing to dispatch to the area are the:

- Hr.Ms Crooswijck - Ady Gill Class Coastal Patrol Vessel

- Hr.Ms Staetenkwartier - Karel Doorman Class Frigate

We hope to speak to the Oseaton Government directly very soon to hear their findings on our proposal untill then we shall only politicaly support the Oseaton Government and monitor the developments very closely.

Yours Sincerely,
Jonathan Roosevelt
President
The Grand Duchy of Noordeinde

[Leistung]

It is very clear to us that the BundesMarine of Leistung and the Leistungi Government have violated the territoy of the Vrystaat and should therefore be condemned for this blame act of imperialism.

OOC: Check your maps. I didn't violate anything.