The Second Imperial War (IC, CLOSED)

[Cottoria]

With the counter attack the Cottorian Army was unprepared for the surprise attack, several dozen men were laying injured or dead after the attack. For many soldiers like Private Will Brodner, the attack had a impact on their moral. Will had just joined to army to fight in the war with his brother Jimmy. In the ambush Jimmy was killed by a mortar as he rushed to aid a wounded soldier. As Will stared out into the forested area in front of him, he just thought about how much he wants to kill the men who shot that mortar.

For the high command of the Cottorian Army on Wake Atolla, they knew that they had to attack the city. For weeks the army had been bringing in artillery and rockets in order to prepare to strike the city. With the pressure on them from the government to act, General Weimhoff and Admiral Jackson agreed that it was time to begin the attack on the city. At 1 AM the next night, all guns would begin to fire on the Polar Svalbard positions in the city. Both men believed that they could bomb the city into submission in order to save lives. But they were preparing for a ground assault as well to follow in after the artillery strike and to hopefully end the battle before it even started.

Finally 1 AM arrived, the night had been silent with little movement from the Polar side.Then within seconds, the entire night sky was lit up from the firepower of the Cottorian guns. For hours, the guns kept firing as the infantry prepared to assault the city. By 8 AM, most of the guns had ceased fire. Within minutes the ground attack had begun, thousands of men begun to attack the disorganized positions of the outer city and were quickly pushing through the first line of defense. However the men quickly realized that the second line of the defense for Polar Svalbard were still in tact and Cottoria's hope of a quick victory quickly diminished.

[Polar Svalbard]

As the First lines of the defense were passed by the Cottorians would realize their mistake. From these silent positions the night lit up as tracer rounds and rockets tore into the Cottorians infantry from many strongpoints. From the Trenchworks that were the second line of defense, rockets, machine guns, and tank fire rained into the front Cottorian ranks.

The artillery had been gathering information on where the Cottorians artillery was as the artillery attack was happening and now a massive amount of counter-artillery Fire bombarded the Cottorian artillery batteries.

Although not all was well for the Svalbardians either, that massive artillery attack had been deadly to the city and the forces within. Buildings were demolished and the bodies of civilians and soldiers alike were strewn about haphazardly.

---

Captain Mohammad Assuld looked down as his F-16 roared over the battlefield. The Mountain pass and area outside of the city looked like a Sea of fire. The massive amounts of Tracer fire between the two sides was immense. Him and his wingman, Lima 1-1 and Lima 1-2 were providing aerial superiority for the Close Air Support fighters that were attacking the enemy armor. The others on Lima wing were scattered around the area watching put for enemies.

His helmet radio kicked in, "Lima 1-1 this is AWACS, we see on radar two enemy fighters coming into your kill zone. 2 o'clock, three Klicks out."

He keyed his mic, "Wilco." He switched to squadcom, 1-2, boggys at 2 o'clock 3 Klicks out. We have permission to engage, I'll take boggy 1-1 and you 1-2."

Lima 1-2 gave a Wilco and the two planes kicked out afterburners and rolled to the right. As the went they achieved lock on, the pilots fought to shake them off, but after a ten second game of chase they released missiles on the two. Assuld's hit the first enemy jet while his wingman' hit chaff. Assuld closed in and raked the enemy's plane with his minigun.

He scored two kills, congratulations from the AWACS came in as they listed his tally.

[Miklania]

Fort Hampton, Miklania

"Platoon, Attention!"

A stiff breeze blew across the parade field. Juno Company, 560th Regiment, 108th Airborne Division was assembled in full kit, weapons ready. The invasion of Doppler meant that these men would be going to war. Some for the second time, many were veterans of the Sadievi campaign. Lieutenant Jonathan Summers was not one of those veterans. He had still been at airborne school while the fighting was underway. He had been assigned to Juno's second platoon after the command reshuffled the shaken regiment. So far, so good. He was getting along fine with the men, but was still plagued with nagging doubts about how the veterans would see him when they saw combat. For now they would simply have to wait.

Captain Farrol gave a good pep speech, a short one. He was on the ground in Sadievi, and had the burns to prove it. The company was to fly to Doppler and prepare there for a combat drop to stop the communist advance in the event that they break through the Dopplerian line before heavy Miklanian reinforcements could arrive. Summers inhaled, and exhaled. This would be interesting.

[Miklania]

RMS Ironwing, Second Fleet, South Doppler Sea, 0545

The Bosun's whistle sounded shrilly over the intercom of the Ironwing. The little ship was pushing at near it's maximum speed trying to keep up with the larger and much more advanced In Starlight Clad class destroyers that she was accompanying through the South Doppler Sea. The ship was a relic of a bygone era, an antique only floating because of the nostalgia of older members of Congress, and the Navy's desire to keep hull numbers up, even if half the ships were obsolete. She was built in 1965. The oldest member of her crew was born in 1971. Originally built for anti-submarine warfare, her ASROC launcher had been removed and replaced with Harpoons so that she could fight other surface ships. An idea that could only have come from behind a desk somewhere deep in the bowels of the Department of War. All the Ironwing had to defend herself with against enemy missiles was the pack of sixteen ESSMs strapped to the deck amidships. Another modern afterthought on a vessel that had served far more than it's fair share of time in the fleet.

But Steven Matthews, the Boatswain of the Ironwing, loved her anyways. He was first assigned to her back when he started in the service, and had spent most of his time in the Navy on her sister ships.

He stood on the bridge with the other watch standers as the waves broke on the bow. Dawn was just starting to crack over the grey horizon. He turned to the officer of the watch, a young lieutenant who had been serving he watch all night after the man sent to relieve him had gotten sick all over the table in the officer's wardroom.

"How you doin' sair?" He asked, his northern accent thick as ever before his morning coffee. "Cap'n should be on deck soon, she always is in the morn'n."

"Indeed Mr. Matthews." Commander Mathers stepped onto the bridge. Everyone jumped to attention, caught off guard by her silent arrival. "At ease." She said, giving a quick salute before anyone could go too far out of their way to make a fuss about her rank. She was only a Commander, not a true Captain. For all the effort they put into trying to make them look like modern frigates, the Admiralty still decided that they only rate a Commander in most cases.

"Morn'n Capt'n." Matthews said while giving the clenched salute of a sailor. "Not a thing to report ma'm."

"Excellent. We will rendezvous with the Dopplerian fleet today. Any word from them or our fleet?"

"No ma'm."

"Alright then. Mr. Harris, you are relieved."

The lieutenant stood up gratefully and saluted. "Aye aye ma'm, thank you ma'm." Mathers returned the salute and turned to look out over the bow as he exited the bridge.

[Segentova]

Wake atolla/Svalbardian coastal waters, Destroyer Arthemis
27th April, 2016, 19:54 (07:54PM)
The Segentovan fleet had left the navy base at Rouanne just 6 days ago, Captain Alesio Baglio stood on the bridge and looked out over the waves. The battlegroup, headed by the cruiser Toulon had cut through the sea. The group, in its entirety, was made up of the Toulon, the assault ship, Bennet the destroyers Artemis and Diana, the supply-ship Valence, 4 smaller Pacífico-class frigates, 8 Ratel corvettes and 16 Hamina assault craft.
Captain Baglio concentrated only on the waves, noticing how they lifted the ship up and down. His thoughts were suddenly halted
"Captain, a transmition from the Toulon."

Code: Select all

-We are entering within range of Cottorian defence, prepare for battle. ETA for Serabhuho is in 3 hours

The Captain scratched his beard for a second.
"Ok, everybody. You heard the admiral, everyone to their battle stations!"
A flash of red light accompanied by a siren went on as the crew started scrambling into position.
22:11 (10:11PM), Welldeck of Bannet assault-ship
Charles Hébert climbed onto the amtrak, knowing well this could be his last view he took a breath of fresh air before climbing down the ladder and taking position next to his squadmates, Allegri and Sartre.
They seemed pretty quiet, as usual, though Allegri had put on his headphones and was probably listening to some thrash metal or something, not paying attention to the fact that the hatch was getting sealed from the outside and the assault being prepared.
Though they were deep within the bowels of the Bennet they coul dtill feel the Toulon firing off a cruise missile, the flash of it being launched out of the container, the afterburner kicking in as the missile rose higher, and suddenly, nothing, until then, audible from this very distance, probably 6 kilometers from the shore; boom.
This was the start of it all, now there was no turning back to the safety of the home, this was war.
The amtrak disembarked from ship and began mooving toward the shoreline, the fire which had previousley been far off or even inaudible suddenly became louder, the gunshots echoing throughout, and every thud from artillery hitting the ground becoming noticabli more audible, at the height of all this were the roaring engines of the A-90s transporting the tanks, APCs, IFVs and other vehicles they would need for the assault.
They had been briefed, their unit would be right in the middle of it all, supported by armour they would take the cottorians by surprize and reinforce the svalbardian positions.
They had all been issued equipment for this type combat, PVS-7 goggles and PVS-14 sights.
Gustav Faucheux sat opposite to Charles, he leant over to Charles and disgruntledly said "I feel like a fucking stormtrooper wearing all this shit."
Henri lmuttered "Relax, Gustav. 15 minutes and we're blown into pieces by the cottorian artilery anyway." before lighting himself a cigarete and extending the stock of his Mk. 14
"Keep it down, i want at least 5 minutes of quier before we get shot up" the sargent looked sternly at them from the olther end of the craft.
They immediatley turned away, facing the floor.
After what had fealt like an eternity, there was suddenly a noticable shift in the terrain. Where the Amtrak was previousley flowing licely and with relative silence along the lines of the water, it was now running noisily along the ground. There was no misunderstanding this, they had reached the landing beach.
The mire of enemy and friendly machineguns echoed throughout the hull of the vessel. The soldiers had been briefed that if anything should go right, the Cottorians would be busy enough with the svalbardians that they wouldn't have time to notice the Segentovan attack.
The vehicle broke off to the side and stalled, this was it.
All the soldiers all turned on and adjusted their night-vision goggles, switched their guns from safe to fire and chambered the first round.
The rear hatch opened and the sound of gunfire became noticabley louder at once.
The commander of the Amtrak was standing in the troop compartment, making hand signs for the soldiers to rush out, quickly they all made their way out on the beach.
The beach itself was silent, nothing beside a probably 2 dozen amtraks and a few A-90s unloading IFVs and APCs onto the beach.
Charles folded his goggles up and stared into the sky, seing the rough outline of a MI-24 helicopter silently gliding along. Suddenly the scenery changed as the MI-24 unloaded a salvo of rockets unto what probably were some less fortunate Cottorian soldiers.

[Eurania]

ENSS Red Unbroken

"We are still behind, sir" replied the officer at the screens. Captain Astarev didn't even bother to look up, or even make a sound, at all. The sub fleet had been following the Miklanian fleet for hours, but they were many miles away, and there were many obstacles, such as the destroyer screen. Furthermore, one of the subs had engine trouble, and had to turn around to return to port. Still, the fleet was still large, and it had a variety of weapons, all dangerous, at its disposal.

"Let's slow them down, with practice first, obviously" spoke Astarev, finally.

"Sir, we have the most precious cargo of the fleet, when we are loaded of nuclear missiles?"

"That will lead to our end and the end of Eurania" replied Astarev. "We'll train our missiles for now."

And with that, he gave orders for the Vanguard-class subs, loaded with cruise missiles, to fire at least one or two at the Miklanian escort destroyer screen. And up did each missile go, rocketing into the sky with a brilliant flame, from under the water.

[Miklania]

RMS Tip of the Spear (DDG-804), TF-1812, Kavju Sea, 1056

“Contact! Vampire inbound at one four zero, twenty miles!” Sailors turned in their chairs as dread and adrenaline started to flow through them. Within seconds of the radar operator calling out the incoming missile the alarms and calls to General Quarters echoed through the ship. Missile operators pounded commands into their consoles furiously, this was the first actual missile attack any of them had experienced.

Lieutenant Commander Wilcox, the ship’s XO, transformed from his normal quiet self into a commanding force of nature, his soft voice now booming with the utmost clarity. “Radar! Set scan to sea level, lock the contact! Fire control! Get firing solution and wait for my command!” He grabbed the intercom. “Conn, CIC, we have a Vampire in…”

“Second contact, Vampire at one four zero, twenty miles, first contact at sixteen miles!”

“...two Vampires inbound!”

The bridge crew had already seen them on their radar display. Disregarding the pleasantries of radio communication Captain Foster grabbed his intercom receiver and, in the calmest manner possible, instructed Wilcox to fire.

“Aye aye sir! Fire control, engage all contacts with SM-2, fire now!”

“Aye aye sir!” At the press of a button an SM-2 surface to air missile roared from its rail on the aft launcher, leaving a arcing cloud of brown smoke as it streaked to intercept the incoming threat. Another button press and a second missile rocketed skyward and arced over. Fire control operators watched with nervous anticipation as the small blue symbols moved towards the highlighted red symbols. The simple display was the only way they could see what was going on from the windowless control center buried in the center of the ship’s superstructure. As the symbols converged, the operator's finger hovered over the launch button so that he could fire a second if one of his missiles missed.

They didn’t. Miles away from the destroyer, only a few yards off the surface of the ocean, two Euranian anti-ship missiles disintegrated into fireballs as the fifteen hundred pound SM-2s smacked into them at Mach three. The symbols simply disappeared from the display as they met each other.

The operator let out his breath and started breathing again. “Two hits, contacts destroyed.” The men cheered.

“Quiet!” Wilcox barked. The crew immediately complied. “Radar, where did these contacts come from?”

“Unknown sir, they just appeared on my scope.” Wilcox didn’t like that answer. Missiles don’t just appear out of thin air.

“CIC, sonar, we think they came from a submarine.”

Wilcox lifted his intercom back to his mouth. “You think?”

“We heard something abnormal just before the vampire call came out. They were probably launched from underwater, what we heard might have been them breaking the surface.”

“I want answers, not speculation. Did you hear a Goddamned torpedo missile or not?”

“Um, I...” The senior sonar operator rolled his eyes and grabbed the intercom from the quivering hands of his young apprentice. “Aye sir, that sound was a sub-launched anti-ship missile.”

Wilcox sighed in annoyance, finally someone was giving him something he could work with. There was no room for error or hesitation with the region’s largest submarine force chasing you down in their own waters. “Thank you Mr. Boyles. Do we have the sub?”

“Negative sir.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand, glared at the junior operator, and started pointing at the console in front of him. The young man stopped staring and turned back to his controls. “We’re working on it sir.”

[Miklania]

RMS Tip of the Spear (DDG-804), TF-1812, Kavju Sea, 1100

“Conn to sonar, have you found the subs?”

Boyles dropped the crumpled end of his pen out of his mouth. “Negative sir, we can’t hear ‘em. Can we get the helo up?”

Captain Foster though for a second. It wouldn’t hurt to spread the search by air. The enemy already had their position. “Affirmative.” He switched the input on the intercom. “Conn to flight deck, is the helo ready?”

“Aye sir, ready to go.”

“Launch."

The destroyer may not have the fanciest sonar set in the world, but she was carrying the best ASW helicopters in the world. The SH-70R had a set of sonobuoys, a dipping sonar that was lowered by winch while the helicopter hovered over the surface, and two lightweight Mk. 46 torpedos. The helo lifted off the flight deck and headed out in the bearing that the missiles had flown in from. That was the only lead they had.

[Polar Svalbard]

Private First Class Donovin crouched there against the dirt and wood of the trench. He popped his head over and shot one Cottorian and made another duck, before ducking himself. He thought to himself, this is still going good. We can still do this. Over the next five minutes he kept up his sporadic fire, not noticing the encroachment of the Cottorian infantry.

This confidence was shattered as he heard a loud shout by his Platoon Leader, "FIX BAYONETS!" Those were the two last words you wanted to hear on the battlefield. That meant the usual long range warfare was about to end in a bloody melee. Only those strong enough would survive the next ten minutes, and even then the trench would run red with blood.

As Donovin attached his bayonet he worried to himself, This isn't how modern warfare is supposed to work! He looked to those in his squad. How many would be left standing. It was then that the first Cottorians started pouring into the trenches. The Svalbardians shot, stabbed, beat, and eviscerated the enemy that was pouring into their trench. But the same was true for their enemy. It was bodies, piled along the floor, stacked high, mangled and torn.

Donovin parried and stabbed at a Cottorian. He knocked him back and stabbed his bayonet into the enemies' throat. He looked into his eyes, he looked no older than 17. As his enemy gurgled blood, clutching at the air, Donovin's eyes started to water. He kicked his enemy off his bayonet, the Cottorian dropping onto the hard floor. He had no moment to think as another enemy jumped into the trench.

So it went for the next five, long agonizing minutes. Fighting and blood shed. Nobody retreated, they couldn't. When it was over, the Svalbardians were battered and mangled and the Cottorians were all dead or giving their last breaths. Donovin just sank to his knees and started to cry, with the corpses of people just out of high school surrounding him. Those who would never see their family again, nor ever love again, nor ever laugh again. He only stopped when the Staff Sergeant came over and pulled him out of it.

The fight kept going, would it ever stop? Donovin did not have those answers, all he could do was try to survive.

[Eurania]

ENSS Red Unbroken

"Shit" spoke the officer at the bridge. He then shouted the dreadful news: "INCOMING TORPEDOES!"

Captain Astarev knew exactly what to do. "DIVE!" he roared, and the gigantic submarine slowly began to sink into the depths, the same happening to every other submarine in the fleet.

"Sir!" shouted the officer "Even though we are going down into the depths, we are still together. Shouldn't we split up?"

"That's gonna work better." replied Astarev "Even though we will be split up, at least we won't all die in a massive explosion. All submarines need to be splitting up one-to-three miles between them, and they need to deploy countermeasures."

"Roger that" replied the officer. He went on the intercom and screamed "DIVING!" Sailors all aboard the ship began grabbing onto anything that could stop them from falling halfway across the ship, as the sub began a steep descent to the dark depths, along with the others, diving and moving away from each other, each deploying several countermeasures against the incoming torpedoes.

[New Aapelistan]

Beach Site C, Andersite, Doppler

Iliya was behind a rock, trying to shoot the Dopplerian defenders, who must be extremely low in numbers by now. Bullets kicked up dirt around him and glanced off the rock he was hiding behind. His heart sank when he heard his commander shout "This is our moment! Rush their defenses!" Iliya rose from his position and started to run at the Dopplerian defenses, just fast enough so that he would not be accused of cowardice but slow enough to not be one the first ones to reach them. Those first men were cut down by gunfire. Once they were at defenses, men with bayonets already fixed lunged in to kill the defenders with the bayonets, others started to shoot at the defenders.

After some time of this bloodbath, Dopplerians at the beach were defeated. Many of them were killed, some, captured and killed. Now when the defenses were defeated, the actual invasion force was coming. 42,000, mostly conscripts, were brought into the beaches, ready to invade Doppler.

Department of Communications, Ministry of Defense, Krasainen Linjatu

"Lieutenant!"

Lieutenant Bogashenazov walked from his post to the soldier.

"I'm here, any news from Andersite?"

"Da, both A and C-site were successful, B got larger casualties, but beach is secure"

Bogashenazov looked satisfied and said "Good. Send it to Comrade Secretary of Defense"

"Yes, sir"

[Polar Svalbard]

SNS Salvation, Svalbardian Destroyer assigned to the second Fleet

The radio operator suddenly sprung to life, jotting down notes. Everyone on the bridge turned and looked at him. When he was done he looked at the Captain, "Captain the AWACS launched from North Wake has picked up a Cottorian Task Force in our area. We finally found them. Says that there is 3 Frigates and a Destroyer."

The Captain smiled, "Its not the biggest fish but its a fish. Get ready to fire anti-ship missiles. Communications, send word to the other ships, we'll take the Destroyer, make sure we all coordinate fire and target a single ship."

---

The ship and the other ship near it sprang to life, crewmen hustled around. They prepared missiles to fire, they prepared the counter defenses, and even pulled the ASW helicopter onto the helicopter pad. As this was going on, miles away the Cottorian ships were about to get a big surprise.

---

The Captain smiled when the communications officer said that the other ships were ready to fire. "Alright then, lets fire." The captain looked over the bow as the sea suddenly was set ablaze. Anti-ship missiles arched away on course for the enemy ships.

The AWACS above tracked the Svalbardian ships, Cottorian Ships, and missiles, as they went on their way.

[Doppler]

The sound of artillery has shaken the town of Seoma for several days now. Dopplerian infantry battalions were dug deep into the town whether it be in fox holes or trenches they have held the town for several days, not knowing they are surrounded, waiting for reinforcements.

A loud static sound could be heard from a radio as a member of the Third Signal Regiment of Doppler connected to the nearest brigade. Over the sound of artillery blasting the colonel took the headset and screamed into the headset, "WHERE THE HELL ARE OUR GOD DAMN REINFORCEMENTS!? WE HAVE BEEN BEING POUNDED ON FOR 7 DAYS STRAIGHT! WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF FOOD AND WATER!" There was a slight pause. "Understood sir. How soon? What do you mean we don't know where are our airborne divisions? Alright we will try to hold them for as long as we can."

The colonel put the headset on the table and screamed for attention, "Attention soldiers! We have received word that we will not be gaining reinforcements at the moment due to the swift advancement of New Apelistan forces that came from the north. We will be receiving Miklanian paratroopers for reinforcements within the next 24 hours instead. That is all." The troops dispersed and dug back into their positions. The only thing keeping this town alive is the artillery holding the New Apelistians back.

3 M1127 Reconnaissance Vehicles returned into the town from a scouting mission gaining information that New Apelistan forces looked to be starting a massive attack on the town, with NA forces only 13 clicks out of the town.

I thought to myself that the 35 degrees Celsius heat was bad but knowing that an attack maybe coming soon made me feel even worse inside. I looked to the sky, hoping to see a Miklanian plane come overhead at any second, like it was our guardian angel.

[Miklania]

Miklanian Army Staging Point, Elizabeth City, Doppler

The Regionmaster transports sat on the tarmac, Jeeps scurrying back and forth around them. Summers had seen them plenty of times before, and the sight always filled his stomach with butterflies. Normally it was excitement, in anticipation of a practice jump. Now they looked more ominous, the last things he would see before he landed in combat and the lives of all his men were in his hands. The Dopplerian line had broken in the center, with communist forces running amok in their rear and a strong force blitzing south, into the heart of the country. They were going to be dropping in ahead of the advance to hold them back and buy some time for cavalry units unloading in the south to move up.

Battalion Officers Operational Briefing, 2230

"Gentlemen." Lieutenant Colonel Kelly silenced the nervous chatter with a single word. "As you all know, the commies have broken through the Dopplerian line. This is quite unacceptable to command." A few officers grinned a bit at the humorous understatement. "And as you are also aware, the 108th has the great privilege of being the first to stop them. Next slide please." The projector moved past the "Eyes Only" slide and displayed a satellite image of a section of terrain, bisected north-west to south-east by a snaking river, and marked with drop zones and large symbols indicating the approximate location of enemy units. "This is where we are to make our stand. Able, Bravo, Charlie, and Dog companies will be dropped west south west of the bridge to the north, code named Penguin. Echo, Fox, Golf, and Hotel will be dropped west south west of this bridge here." Kelly pointed with a small laser to a bridge located roughly in the center of the image. "Code named Polar Bear. Iron and Juno will be dropped due south of the southernmost bridge, Narwhal."

Summers focused on the area around "Narwhal" the bridge he and the rest of Juno would be holding. Up north of it was a large red symbol, indicating one light infantry company. The communists were not at the bridges yet, but from the masses of troops to the north of the other bridges, it seemed clear which ones they were heading to. Some of the units up there were armor. Well let's hope we don't have to deal with that crap.

"Alright. Next slide." It was a close up of the area around Penguin. "So what we have here, in terms of terrain, is the Sentinel river. At this point, the river is fairly narrow, and too deep to be forded. It is also too fast flowing to safely swim across. The banks are also very steep on both sides in most places, making it very difficult to span with a mobile bridge. This goes for the entire area our battalion is operating in. So these three bridges are the only way that the armored infantry in this sector can cross it. It is imperative that the enemy is not allowed to cross them. Able, Bravo, Charlie, and Dog, you will drop in at 0200 and secure the bridge. Dig in on the south side and wait for the cavalry. It will be Charlie’s responsibility to hold the bridge itself. “

“Understood sir.” Said Captain Cramer, the CO of Charlie company. “Do we have demolition charges to blow the bridge if necessary?”

“You will. I was getting to that. The heavy charges and anti-tank ordnance will be dropped in a pallet with you. That will be the same for all the bridges.”

“As for enemy forces, intel has several companies of infantry with light and possibly heavy armor moving on this bridge, although there is a possibility that they will be moving over to Polar Bear. Echo, Fox, Golf, and Hotel, the same basically goes for you guy. Golf is responsible for the bridge itself and the demolitions.” Heads over on the other side of the tent nodded in recognition.


“We don’t anticipate much action as far south as Narwhal, which is why we are allocating only two companies to defend it initially. The bridge is much smaller and there is high rocky terrain separating it from the other areas on both sides of the river. Currently intel only has this one unit of conscript infantry pushing towards it. Probably just a probe, I believe that they plan on taking and holding it as a backup route if they can’t make it through the others.”

One can only hope.

C-420, On approach to DZ.

The engines roared steadily as they hurled through the dark sky. Out the small window Summers could make out the other transports flying in formation with his aircraft. Nothing interesting had happened yet, it didn’t seem like there were any air defenses looking at them. They had fighter cover, just in case.

The pilots came over the intercom and announced “Ten minutes to drop.” The Loadmaster shouted out, assuming his position right in between the jump doors in the rear of the bay. “Left side, staaand UP!” “Left side, staaand up!” came the echoing reply as they all did. “Right side, staaand up!” “Right side, staaand up!”. Summers stood up and took a deep breath.

Summers continued to look out across the cargo bay until a hand bumped him on the shoulder. “You ready sir?” Specialist Graham shouted over the roar of the aircraft’s engines. Graham was one of the older men in the platoon. He was in his fourth and last year of enlistment, and as far as Summers knew the only one in the platoon who had fought in Sadievi.

“I’m good. How about you?”

Graham shifted in his seat. “I’m A-OK sir, just…”

BAM! The plane shuddered as more dull blasts echoed outside. Momentary flashes of light accompanied each one. Men started squirming in their seats, trying to look outside at what was going on, not like it would do anything to change their situation. The Loadmaster braced himself and grabbed the cargo strap he was holding onto even tighter. Summers looked back over his shoulder at the cockpit area. He couldn’t see past the bulkhead into the cockpit, but he could see the reflection of warning lights blinking away. Suddenly they started in the back as well.

The Loadmaster shouted “Brace!” the second he felt the aircraft begin to move. The pilot yanked the stick to the side and began to weave the big plane back and forth, tossing his passengers around. With loud pops and a brilliant flash of light he dumped flares out behind him. The spectacle kept everyone’s attention to the back amidst a chorus of “whoa”. The plane leveled out just in before loud roars sounded from every angle. Summers caught a flash of movement streaking downwards out of the window across from him.

“What was that?” someone yelled.

“Fighters, goin’ through the formation! They’re going for the AA!” A voice across the aisle yelled back. It sounded like Stevens.

“Oh thank fuck for that.” Someone else added.

Another near miss rocked the plane. “Hook up!” “Hook up!” came the reply. Carabiners on the end of the paratrooper’s static lines clicked as they put them around the steel wire running over their heads. “Check static lines!” “Check static lines!”. Another blast rocked the plane as the soldiers ran their hands over the lines of the man in front of them to make sure everything was secure. “Check equipment!” “Check equipment!” The paras gave one last check to all of their equipment. “Sound off for equipment check!” Shouts of “OK” got louder and louder as each man in the line sounded off.

Summers was the last. “ALL OK!” he shouted. Another airman who had been standing next to the Loadmaster moved down the lines double checking every man’s static line. He gave a thumbs up to the Loadmaster when he reached the front of the airplane, and the back of the lines. The cargo bay was then flooded with steady red light. They were almost at the drop zone. “Red light, standby!” Everyone was dead silent. All Summers could hear was the drone of the engines and the blast of sporadic anti aircraft fire. He noticed that he could barely hear the engines anymore, and the AA was not nearly as thick as it had been before. No new missiles were streaking up at the transports. Adrenaline and the fighters were doing their jobs.

The Loadmaster opened the doors on either side of the plane. Deflectors kept the air from swirling into the cargo bay. Summers took a step forward, grabbed the sides of the door, and leaned out slightly. Suddenly the light next to his face turned from red to green.

“Green light! GO! GO! GO!” Summers jumped into the dark.

[New Aapelistan]

4 kilometers from point "Vasili", Doppler

It was a hot day in Doppler, even too hot for Aapelistanians. An order had still came and now the Mihail company was advancing once again. This Company was the only one going to point Vasili, the southernmost bridge that crosses the river "Jakov". Commanders had held a long speech at the base about how important it is to capture the bridges that cross this river. Losing the bridges was not an option.

Iliya walked in the middle of the rocky, old road they were going. He was soaked from sweat, as were every soldier in his Company. The Company had walked for an hour when suddenly the company's radioman received a call from the HQ. The company commander, Captain Šaruženkov walked next to the radioman.

"What was it, soldier?"

The soldier stood up, saluted the Captain and said with a clear voice "New orders from the headquarters, Comrade Captain. New orders are to wait for the 9th Armor battalion, Comrade Captain"

Captain looked down for a second and shouted for the Company "We will be waiting for 9th Armor battalion. You may rest for some time. Sovarin, Kajuvna, go 100 meters towards the bridge and stay there. If you are attacked, try to retreat back to us. And you" Captain looked at the young radioman. "At ease rookie".

Iliya sat on a rock and looked as others waited for the armors and 2 went patrolling in case of Miklanians. A minute later even him noticing it, Iliya fell asleep

5 kilometers from river "Jakov", 1 kilometer west from point Vasili

It was a bumpy road to drive. The men from the Ženija platoon of the 2nd Engineer regiment were driving with two trucks. Their mission was to set-up an radio jammer to assist the attack at a safe location.

After 30 minutes of driving, they had found an nearly perfect place for the jammer, a flat area next to two big rocks. The truck stopped and Major Sujanov opened the truck door and jumped to the ground. He looked around him, checking if the place. He nodded quickly and shouted

''This is good, set the jammer here.''

Five men came from the truck and started setting the big jammer into the position. After sometime, everything was ready, jammer and a small radio station had been set up near the front lines. Major was near the efreitor, who was the platoon radioman. The Major looked his devices and said ''Soldier, keep a complete radio silence. When Linjatu's order comes, do not respond''

''Yes, Comrade Major.''

[Miklania]

Above Juno Company DZ, Doppler

The parachute was jerked from Summer’s pack by the static line, which was still connected to the airplane. This line pulled out the chute, and then detached itself so that the paratrooper could float down to the ground. As the wind blasted past him, Summers checked his chute and the risers that held him to it. Everything was in order. Above him in every direction transports flew through the puffs of flak. Some were streaming smoke, and one was trailing fire from an engine! To the right and left of him were more chutes, each with one of his men dangling below it. It was one of the most epic things he had ever seen, but there was no time to think about that.

He drifted down slowly towards the ground as the planes sped away. Free of their human cargo, the pilots could accelerate and maneuver away from the unexpected and unwelcome anti-aircraft fire. From his perch up in the sky Summers could see the tracers arcing up at the transports. To his surprise, all that flak was only coming from three places, all well across the river. He didn’t see any more missiles. The fighters must have cleared everything else on their attack pass.

The ground below was well illuminated by the moon and stars. Summers pulled in on the risers to avoid a long line of trees between the open plains to the south west and the river to the north. He landed and rolled exactly as he did in training. He gathered his chute and watched the rest of his platoon land down in the field behind him. Other chutes were coming down to the sides, it was impossible to tell which ones were the other platoons in his company and which ones were from Iron.

He surveyed the terrain around him as best he could in the dark. The mass of rocks that separated their AO from the rest of the battalion loomed in a dark mass to one side. To his other side there were some trees and scrub brush. Beyond that the river should turn slightly and become a cataract with an island in the middle. Totally impassable. Their right flank would be secure. Paras started forming up with him at the rally point.

“Hey LT, sir.”

“Jenkins.” Summers acknowledged with a nod. Another man ran up to the growing congregation.

“Is this second platoon?”

“Yeah.” Private Jenkins said, “But who are you?”

“Private Cummings, who are you?”

“Wait, which company are you?” Another one of Summer’s men asked.

“Iron.”

“Oh, dude this is Juno.”

“Shit. Do you know where my guys are?”

“Aren’t your rally points supposed to be further north, up by those rocks?” Said Summers.

“I, uh, yeah, thank you sir.” The man ran off again, in the direction that his company was supposed to be. The other platoons of Juno were beginning to form up at their own rally points. Confused men ran between the groups before all finally staying at one of them. What must have been third platoon was not quite where the rally point was on the map, but the troopers figured it out quickly enough. Iron company seemed to be getting together as well. Fifteen minutes into the drop, and things looked good so far. Summers keyed his MBITR.

“Juno second, all present and accounted for.” He whispered. He was wearing a throat microphone and a slim headset that fit under his helmet. He waited as other platoons on the channel started to call in “All present and accounted for.” Within a few minutes all the elements of Iron company were ready, and they began to move to secure equipment drops. Only Juno’s first platoon had not checked in. After a moment, the distressed voice of Lt. Harper came over the comms.

“Has anyone seen the captain?”

[Miklania]

Juno Company DZ, Doppler

“He jumped with you guys.” Lt. Margens from third platoon replied.

“Yeah, well he ain’t here. Captain Farrol, sound off.”

No response.

“Did he get off the plane, yours took a hit, right?” The radio was silent for a minute. Sergeant Riley moved and crouched down next to where Summers was.

“What's the hold up sir? Are the other guys missing someone?” He asked.

“Yeah, the captain isn’t accounted for. He’s not at first platoons rally point and he isn’t sounding off on the radio.”

“Shit.” Summers didn’t reply to that. He just took a deep breath and keyed the radio again.

“Matt, if he isn’t here, he isn’t here. He might not have even got off the plane, we need to get moving and secure that bridge.”

Harper came back on, now with a mix of annoyance and distress in his voice. “Alright, let's get moving. He was last out, no one saw him, but I think the rounds didn’t hit the plane until after we were all out.”

“Well there’s nothing we can do about it now. Jon’s right, we need to secure our objectives ASAP.” Lt. Margens added. “Since we’re back here already, thrid will secure our supply drop and meet the rest of you at the bridge.”

“Roger that.” Summers said. “Ready Matt?”

“First platoon ready, let’s roll.” Came the response from Harper.

“Alright guys, to the bridge. Second platoon, move out. Graham, take point.”

“Yessir.”

---

The little steel bridge was secured without incident. The opposite bank was open for about one hundred yards, then it ended in a thick tree line. Their side was about the same. No commies were spotted on the opposite bank. Juno company had already met up with Iron company, who were now starting to dig in just inside the treeline upstream of the bridge, securing the flank between them and the massive rocks. The cataract would secure the right immediately after the bridge. Juno would dig in to the left of it and secure the center. As the men of first and second platoons started to dig in a trench, third platoon arrived with extra ammunition, demolition charges, AP mines, AT mines, spare medic bags, and other fun toys that they might need if they encountered the enemy. Third platoon was the company weapons platoon, and had the two sergeants qualified as Sappers. They led their squadmates in rigging the charges.

Summers only saw one problem, and the other Lieutenants did too. The banks of the river were steep, and looked pretty soft, but none of them were sure that it would be enough to stop a determined APC, and the river was swift, but a crazy commie still might be able to swim it. The situation was even more problematic upstream. As the pre dawn light began to reveal more details of the landscape, the area in front of Iron turned out to practically be a ford. Captain McGregor had come over himself to inform them.

That was the other problem.

The three Lt’s and the company First Sergeant, Daniel Corper stood aside from the rest of the men for a moment.

“All in favor of Summers being in charge, say ‘aye’.” Margens said. Summers looked over at him like he was crazy.

“What? Why me?” He said. Corper and Harper kept their mouths shut and looked at the other two. Margens waited a second before speaking up.

“Well, the way I see it, we have a problem. We’re all second lieutenants here, we have no first lieutenant, and we’ve all been in for about the same time, so no one is clearly senior to the others. So we have to pick one. I’m sure even you geniuses have come to that conclusion already.” He said with a good natured grin. The others weren’t really amused given the situation. “So, in my humble opinion, Summers is the best man for the job. I’m too lazy to do the paperwork when we’re all done here and Harper doesn’t want to do it.” He concluded with a smirk.

Summers wanted to say that he didn’t want to do it either, but the looks he was getting from the other three were final. He realized that even though the reasons given were more Margens’ jokes than the actual reasons why he wanted him to lead, the others were on the same page. There was no way out of it, and whining would do no good if he was supposed to be the acting company CO.

“Alright then, let’s get to work.”

“Good man.” Corper said as he clasped his shoulder. Summers just sighed, stood up, and began walking back towards the men digging the trench. The others stood back and watched him surveying the scene quietly before he walked down the line, ostensibly to check on the progress with the charges.

Margens grinned. “And that is why he is in charge.”

“He doesn't screw around, that for sure.” Corper added.

[New Aapelistan]

"Hey, wake up!"

Iliya winced from his sleep, accidentally rolling and felling from his comftorable little rock.

"The commander of the Žahov company is not nice guy if he finds you sleeping. You can thank me later with a shot of vodka!"

Iliya started to rise from the ground, seeing that the tanks they had waited, came. Soldiers from two different company's started to chat. Iliya took his water can, and listened to the small discussions while he drinked a little.

The Captain of Iliya's company walked next to one tank and asked "Hey, I thought that we were supposed to get 13 tanks? Why only 12?"

The tanks driver, sitting on top of the tank, laughed and said "I have a good story about it, to tell back at the base. Sad that I didn't have an camera with me to capture the moment"

The tank's gunner looked at the driver. "Major would have fried your ass if he would have seen it"

The driver looked to the gunner and said "Not relevant now". He looked back at the captain "Okay, so you see that our company has both T-72's and 90's? So, one of the T-72's engine broke, while we were coming here. So, the company stopped and major went an gave an preview of hell to the tanks drivers, major being the..."

The driver stopped when he saw that the company's major walked at them. Looking at the driver with eyes that would have even got Stalin to fear him, he said "Oh, Rešaluv sharing his so-called "wonderfull" stories? You have any story to share with me?"

Driver, seemingly called Rešaluv stood up straight, made honor and said with an clear voice to the Major "Sorry comrade major, not any good stories now!"

"Good, sergeant. Why are you then sitting out in here and not checking your tank, so that it doesn't have to get the fate of that one tank?"

"Only taking an oxygen break and doing some airing for the tank, comrade major! Air in there can be a little stale inside. We have done it enough now, comrade major, and will continue our work now!" Rešaluv and the gunner went back inside the tank, seemingly slightly scared of their major.

Major seemed satisfyied and started to talk to the captain of Iliya's company.

Iliya looked at the situation. He turned to the soldier who awoke him, who had sitted down to check his equipment. ''Hey, Lev''

Lev looked Iliya and asked ''What is it?''

Iliya pointed to the tank company's major with his chin. ''What's his problem?''

Lev looked at major. ''Oh Major Gjelanuv? He tries to get to CPNA's high positions. He act's like some big shot in the army, trying to get as good result's as possible. But I say, that if he would be ordered to kiss CPNA officer's asses, he would.''

The major, who had talked to the captain, turned away from the captain and to the soldiers of the both company's.

"Soldiers! Our mission from the Party and from the Ministery is simple! Our mission, is to take the bridge ahead of us. This is crucial for our advancement in this nation, ruled by the bourgoise. And this is why, retreating is not allowed! I will personally shoot those anti-revolutionaries, who retreat or try to retreat!"

Iliya now became really scared. The major, already looking really bad to him, was now threatening to shoot him, if he would retreat. Iliya turned to Lev and asked "Is... is he serious?"

Lev said with an uncertain voice. "I don't know... Let's just hope they don't have machine guns..."

Their captain walked closer to his company and shouted "Mihail company, we advance with the Žahov armor company. Get your stuff with you, now."

Iliya took his stuff and started to advance with the rest of his company, shaking all the time.

Is this how Im going to die?

[Miklania]

Doppler

Darkness had fallen a few hours ago. Faint moonlight shone upon the desert shrubs and the helmets of the paratroopers. The masses of hardy evergreen trees on either side of the river stood like dark walls. Only a few murmurs and whispers broke the silence.

Summers drifted down the line, quietly checking on each fireteam. He stopped at the end, and leaned back against the side of the trench. He didn’t know how they would notice the enemy first, whether they would see them or hear them. Probably see them, he thought. If they were halfway competent they would be able to move pretty quietly, and infantry won’t make a loud distinctive noise like...armor. His eyes widened and he leaned forwards on the front of the trench as he heard the screeching of tracks and the rumble of massive diesel engines.

“Shit.”

He pushed back down the line. The others were starting to hear it, and many were craning their necks over the edge of the trench to try and see what was coming.

“Keep your heads down!” Summers admonished in a loud whisper. “Heads down!” Men crouched below the edge and waited in silence. “AT teams get ready!” He said as he approached their positions.

“Way ahead of you boss.” Sergeant Riley said. They were already setting up and loading the Carl Gustav recoilless rifles and Javelin missiles. Javelins for tanks, HEAT rounds from the Carl Gustavs for APCs.

“Hold your fire until I give the order.”

“Yes sir.” Riley replied as he continued to stare through the optic on the side of his launcher. The first tank appeared through the trees, moving down the main road to the bridge.

“Hold, see any behind it?” Riley’s face didn’t come off the CLU.

“Yeah, a few more heat sigs through the trees behind it, more are probably behind that.”

“Alright, lock the first one up and wait…” A pop and then a rocket ignition sounded and flashed from the left. A Javelin had been launched from Iron’s position. “Crap, aim for the second one.” Summers watched Riley’s face tense with concentration as he got a lock on the second tank, which had just cleared the trees. The missile was expelled from the tube with a loud ‘pop’ and hung in the air in front of them before the rocket motor ignited and it shot off up into the night sky. Riley and Summers dropped back down. Two blasts and the faintest glow of light from across the river confirmed the hits.

All hell broke loose across the river. Armored Personnel Carriers started breaking through the trees, firing their light autocannons wildly at the trees on the Miklanian’s side of the river. Everyone flinched simultaneously. As the troop carriers started to head for the water the Carl Gustav gunners took aim. “Fire!” Summers shouted.

BOOM!

BOOM!

Summers could feel the blasts from the recoilless rifles in his chest. They were awesome weapons, light but powerful equalizers for a light infantry force. Small explosions lit up the fronts of two of the APCs, which then ground to a halt. Seconds later the fire became visible, seeping out of cracks and the hatches, back lighting the smoke. The gunners fired again, at the remaining targets.

“Infantry in the open!” Came a cry from Summer’s left. He left the AT position and ran down to the man who shouted. It was Sergeant Corper, standing next to one of the MG nests. “Sir, do we fire?”

“Summers paused for second, and then looked over the edge at what could only be described as a horde of communists rushing to the river.

“Open fire!”

[Polar Svalbard]

Private Blaine Morris lay there in the sand, clutching his belly, trying to hold his intestines in his body, his hot blood running down his hands. All around him, shells were going off, bullets whizzed by, and the bodies of friendlies littered the ground around him. He moaned in agony, the battle was raging so intensely no medic was going to be able to get to him. His eyes welling of tears he looked back, where did it all go wrong.

---

05:55

Blaine felt the salty water brush his face as the landing boat jostled silently in the waves on its way to the shore. He smiled, he thought that he had gotten an easy job. Him and his Company, reinforced by SMI-2 units, would be taking and holding an undefended beach, not too far from a Cottorian Coastal town, from there they would set up and wait for reinforcements before capturing the town. Him and his buddies were so glad to have an easy mission in this awful war. Hearing the words undefended they rejoiced at the fact.

He looked to his left and smiled at his mate, Private Muhammad Albain, and they bumped fists. There was a bump as the Landing Craft hit the beach, Blaine and the first few guys jumped out and quickly got into a defensive position as the rest got out, although they weren't expecting much. It was at that point though that a missile streaked out of the foliage. The shout of "MISSILE!" was drowned out by the explosion of the Landing Craft. Of those on, only half of them were able to get off. As Blaine looked to see if Albain survived he saw Albain's crumpled body, half charred with half his head missing along with an arm and a leg.

He could only take that in for a second though as a cacophony of rounds and shells started going off, everybody from the craft ran to cover as fast as they could, many getting cut down in stride. The return fire was weak as the shock presented itself in the Svalbardian forces. None had expected this, this, slaughter.

---

06:20

The Fighting continued to rage, bodies lay everywhere, although the Svalbardians were in a slightly better position, albeit at a causality ratio of three in four being dead or wounded in some fashion. Blaine was hunkered down behind a boulder on the beach, dead and wounded all around him, although some of those with him were still on their feet. As they sat there trying not to die they saw a red starcluster fly high into the sky and burst. The signal for retreat. The four looked at each other, they couldn't retreat, they would die. But they could draw away fire enough hopefully to allow others to retreat. Their sacrifice would hopefully save others.

The four popped out from their hiding place, laying out supressive fire into Cottorian positions. Those units that saw this tried to withdraw or they stayed and also tried to draw fire away from comrades. The man to Blaine's immediate left caught a bullet to the head, splattering the ground with gore. Those on the other side also were killed. And Blaine took a round to the gut. As he fell, he looked over to the beach where those who were retreating would be. What he saw horrified him. No one was able to retreat, those that did had gotten shot and he watched as a squad was wiped out. Resistance was dwindling, their sacrifice was all for naught, and here he lay, bleeding to death.

---

07:13

Blaine's eyes opened. Light filled his vision. The sounds of fighting had cleared. He saw a medic working on him, his first thoughts were that they won, but then he saw the Cottorian flag on his arm. He looked to his left and saw dead Svalbardians and burning boats. To his right Cottorians were finding any wounded and trying to save them. Blaine would survive, but he would be a POW.

[Eurania]

ENSS Red Unbroken

Captain Astarev was furious. The Filthy Miklania had forced the entire fleet to the depths, not to mention that a helicopter was after them. He gave his rage out, before barking one last order calmly.

"Fire all our Anti-Ship Missiles ."

"What? shouted the entire bridge. Vulian repeated his statement, this time more boldly. A few sailors began to stammer and mutter reasons, but each time they did that, the Captain's voice became more bold. And they had no choice but to do it.

The entire fleet rose up from the depths to a reasonable depth. Every non-nuclear anti-ship missile was armed, each with a audible ping.

From the bridge, the captain gave the order "Mass launch" he stated "Grya." (Fire.)

All the missiles were all fired, yet it was fired in an orderly fashion, and each missile locked onto a ship in the enemy fleet. They all raced to their target, the distance seemingly largely than it really was.

A message appeared on the central computer screen on the Red Unbroken. It was official.

It read a sinister message:

Code: Select all

OFFICIAL MESSAGE FROM THE NATIONOV ZOVIET - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE ANY INFORMATION FROM SAID MESSAGE

Captain,

You are ordered back to Eurania at once. If you do not comply, your fleet will be terminated, and the Euranian Armed Forces will be moved against you.

Glory to Eurania.

_/☆\_
----------
NATIONOV ZOVIET, NSRE BUREAUS, MILITARY PROPERTY - DISTRIBUTION OF THIS INFORMATION WILL BE PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.

MESSAGE # 101837473819102947472


[Miklania]

RMS Tip of the Spear (DDG-804), TF-1812, Kavju Sea

O'Mallory turned back to the radar screen, he was nearing the end of his watch, and was exhausted from the constant waiting and stress. The image appearing on the screen, along with the corresponding beeps in his headset shot a jolt of energy through him. "Oh shit."

[Miklania]

RMS Tip of the Spear (DDG-804), TF-1812, Kavju Sea

The screen was a mass of red symbols, each a missile heading inbound towards the target. O’Mallory called out the contacts, even though alarms were already sounding through the ship. Lieutenant Commander Wilcox entered the room with two other sailors, already giving orders.

“All hands to action stations, this is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill. All hands to action stations, this is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill."

O’Mallory took a deep breath to counterbalance the adrenaline spiking through his body. He could feel his heart beating hard and fast, and his muscles prepared to respond to his decision to fight or flee. But he could do neither, at least not in the way his body was prepared to do. “Sir, I have contacts locked, I am ready to engage with SM-2.” He was shocked at how calm his voice sounded. This fight he couldn’t win the way his dna was programed to, by smashing some threat’s head in with a rock. He had to sit in a chair, restraining his urge to move, and operate the complicated missile systems quickly and effectively.

“You are cleared hot!” Wilcox bellowed, despite standing directly behind O’Mallory.

“Fire one!” He pushed a red button, the classic little trigger for cool things that involve fire and explosions. Anyone standing on the deck of the Spear would not be disappointed. The launcher swiveled to the right side with the whir of a massive electric motor. The bridge crew watched for the back fins to unfold. That indicated that the missile would be launching in another second. A slight click, and then the roar. The SM-2 flew off on a pillar of solid smoke and noise. “Fire two!” The second missile on the launcher followed its brother. The twin arms of the launcher returned to their straight, erect rest position. Within seconds two more missiles rose up vertically from the magazine and locked into place on the arms. The launcher swiveled right back to launch position.

RMS Stormkeeper, TF-1812, Kavju Sea

“Oh for the love of God Almighty what is it now?” Admiral Puller demanded of the action stations alert. He decided that he was getting too damn old for waking up at all hours of the damn night, or morning in this case, to deal with some damned obnoxious attack by some bastard enemy ship or even better a damned fucking bastard enemy airplane. He spoke sailor for a bit more as he donned something respectable and rushed up to the bridge. Too damn old.

He glanced out of the door onto the flight deck as he made his way up the tower. The scene was epic. In the slight light of four o’clock in the morning he saw and heard the brilliant roar of an SM-2 fly off a distant destroyer. Another roar he couldn’t match an image to sounded across the water. Multiple ships were already engaging the enemy threat.

Ghostrider 2-1, Above Kavju Sea

“Dude, contacts down low, moving fast.”

“What are we looking at?”

“Maybe aircraft, maybe missiles.” Marker’s second theory was affirmed by the heavy radio traffic coming in from the fleet. They were being attacked by what looked like a horde of vampires. “Damn Drift, there’s hundreds of ‘em.”

“Say again?” Drifter pulled up the radar image on one of the MFDs in the front cockpit. “Come on man, there’s not hundreds, more like just one hundred. No big deal.” He said with a massive dose of sarcasm.

“Should we do something?”

“Hell yeah.”

[Miklania]

Ghostrider 2-1, Above Kavju Sea

An anti-ship cruise missile typically flies just slower than the speed of sound, and are not terribly maneuverable. Some of the communist ones could go as fast as Mach 2 at the cost of almost all the maneuverability they had. The F-41D could go Mach 3 on a good day and was one of the most agile fighters in the sky. So Drifter figured that there was really nothing to shooting down a cruise missile.

What could possibly go wrong? He asked himself as he flung his craft down to the deck. The missiles were skimming across the surface of the sea, barely twenty feet off the tops of the waves.

“Drift, we don’t need to be that low, I can lock it.”

“You think a missile will work?”

“Yeah, just give me a sec, level out.”

“A target that low?” Drifter remembered stories from older pilots in other wars who had been in dogfights down low and failed to get their targets with missiles. That’s why the gun-equipped F-8 had been loved so much more than the bigger missile-only F-4 in the days before the mighty Shark.

“Yeah I got it, shoot when ready.”

“Roger.” He took a breath and pushed the button, releasing the AMRAAM at the little green box that surrounded the tiny speck only barely visible against the black night-time ocean. “Fox three.” The missile streaked off, its rocket motor a tiny glint of light in the dark. What he feared would happen did. The missile was not meant to target something that small that low. It’s intercept solution would have worked perfectly if the target was a few feet higher. Instead, just before hitting the missile, the AMRAAM hit the waves just behind it.

“Fuck.”

“Alright, time to do it my way.” Drifter flung his eager craft back into a dive, leveling it off less than fifty feet above the waves. Flying this low in the dark was dangerous business, and the fighter pilot loved it. The RIO did not.

It was too damn sketchy for Marker’s taste. “Ah, Drift, what are we doing?”

“Going in for guns. If you want something done right you gotta do it yourself.”

“Careful!” Marker winced from the back seat as the top of a wave right below them glinted in the moonlight. He realized they weren’t going to hit it, but it still startled him. He remembered stories from older RIOs about pilots that had gotten a little too comfortable doing dumb things and stuffed their aircraft into the ground.

“Don’t be such a chicken, I got this.” Drifter said as he eased the aircraft lower and lower, faster and faster.

“Oh Jesus, what did I do to rate this idiot?”

Drifter smirked behind his oxygen mask. "Almost in guns range.”

RMS Tip of the Spear (DDG-804), TF-1812, Kavju Sea

O’Mallory was in a rhythm, reflexively doing his job just as he was trained to. Fast but not rushed, careful but not hesitant. The careful part came in handy. As he was about to engage another one of the missiles with an SM-2, a contact marked as freindly dropped in behind it. His chart showed it to be a CAP fighter. He jumped on the radio. “Ghostrider 2-1, get the f*ck out of there.”

Ghostrider 2-1

“Drift, the Spear is calling us off.” Drifter didn’t respond, he just concentrated on lining the target up in his HUD without crashing the jet. “Drift, the destroyer is telling us to pull out.”

“So to speak.”

“Drifter! Eric! Pull up damn it!”

“I almost got it.”

Marker sighed and cursed in his seat, and prepared to pull the ejection handles in case his dumbass best friend screwed it up.

“Guns!” Drifter squeezed the trigger. Twenty millimeter cannon rounds ripped from the barrels of the gatling gun. It sounded more like a horrifying buzz saw than a machine gun. In the three-quarters of a second that he held the trigger seventy-five rounds were fired. Most of them flew right where the jet’s computer told it’s master they would. The missile exploded in a brilliant flash of light. Drifter yanked back on the stick to avoid the fiery debris, subjecting both men to a grueling onset of G.

“See, everything worked out.”

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name, and forgive Drifter, he knows not what he does.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Good to know Drift. No let’s get back to CAPing.”

“That’s a rog.” He eased the throttles forward and climbed back up into the sky.

RMS Tip of the Spear

“Feckin fighter jockey.” Whoever ‘Ghostrider 2-1’ was, he was a dick. He had interrupted O’Mallory’s rhythm.

RMS Stormkeeper

“What in the name of Mike is going on here?” Admiral Puller was barely noticed in the flurry of desperate activity in the carrier’s command center. Hundreds of missiles were streaking in from the east and south. Submarines and surface ships were firing everything they had. Eurania was destabilizing, and it looked like their Navy was getting one last swing in before they were forced to surrender. Escorting destroyers were firing SM-2s as fast as they could, but the aging ships were only able to track and target so many targets at once. They could fire weapons faster than they could guide them. The Admiral thought this was a very interesting case that would be analyzed by engineers and brass for how they should build new ships in the future, but for now he had to focus on not getting his boat shot out from under him. The destroyers limited targeting capabilities were letting missiles slip through the outer ring of defense. Soon the missiles would be within the range of the Stormkeeper’s own point defenses.

Captain Scott was in his swiveling chair, calmly dictating instructions to subordinates and other ships. Puller took his place on the command bridge next to the ship’s captain. “What are we looking at Captain?”

“Saturation attack.”

“What are we doing about it?”

“Standard procedure. Destroyers are engaging vampires as fast as they can, and we are preparing to engage them with Spear-1s. We are taking evasive maneuvers and preparing countermeasures.” The Captain’s voice was surprisingly even and calm. In Scott’s mind there was no point in getting worked up over what was going on. There were missiles inbound, and there were defenses shooting missiles outward. Everyone was doing their best. If that would prove to not be enough, it would not be enough. Freaking out would do nothing to change that. It would probably make him do worse than his best.

Admiral Puller was impressed. Scott was one of his proteges. All the time he knew him the young officer he had learned from him as much as he had from Puller. Well, Puller reflected, not so young anymore. An alarm and a new rush of shouting ended reflection time. The missiles were in range of the Stormkeeper’s Spear-1 missiles, the longest range element of the point defense system. The missiles shot from their box launcher on the starboard side of the bow. The launch was not as spectacular as the SM-2s, just a flash of fire and a little smoke marked its launch.

---

Task Force 1812

Ships began to maneuver sharply as the outer ring of defenses collapsed. Destroyers had to split their SM-2s between missiles coming at the ships they were escorting and the missiles coming for them. Stormkeeper was already shooting back with her point defenses. The Valkyrie and her escorts just twenty miles mile north where in the same boat. The assault ship’s Spear-1s were flying out to meet the incoming anti-ship missiles along with the long range SM-2s.

Missiles were getting shot down at an incredible rate. The defenses were doing their jobs as best as they could, but like the outer layer, it was not enough to deal with the mass of vampires coming in. Soon the Spear’s five-inch guns and CIWS joined the fray. Anti-ship missiles were falling all around them. The ship and her sister destroyers were forced down to their last line of defense. Short range RAM missiles from the Stormkeeper shot down incoming missiles as the Guardian CIWS roared at anything that made it close enough. The gatling guns shredded missiles before locking onto another target all by themselves. Tracers crisscrossed the sky with the constant sound of rocket motors and killer buzzsaws, punctuated by exploding anti-ship missiles and five-inch gun shots.

Stormkeeper turned hard to port, bringing all the weapons on her stern to bear on the incoming vampires. Gatling guns on the destroyers lashed out until they ran out of ammunition. Explosions surrounded the Spear and the others as they shot down everything trying to get passed them. Smoke and fire filled the night.

---

RMS Stormkeeper

Eventually there was nothing left to shoot. Smoke drifted from the barrels of empty guns and missile launchers. But not from burning holes in the ship. They were alive. There was a moment of silence on the bridge as everyone caught their breath.

“Radioman, check in with the fleet. Make sure everyone is OK.” Sailors began to smile and laugh silently as it dawned on their subconscious that they were no longer in danger. One by one the ships in the fleet checked in. Only one destroyer took any damage, the stern five-inch gun took it’s time taking out an enemy missile and the point blank explosion chipped the paint.

[New Aapelistan]

This is how I am going to die.

The bullets ripped up the sand around Iliya and his comrades as they tried desperately to get through the river.
The armor that was supposed to be leading the attack was dead already. The soldiers in the back of the armored personnel carriers were blasted and burning in their steel coffins. Men in front of him, men beside him, and men behind him were being killed by the hail of bullets from the capitalist lines.

The enemy were using machine guns and accurate rifles to pick them off. There was nothing he could do to fire back. Only run forward and hope that nothing hit him. The men who fell dead in the river were swept away by the strong current, nothing more than dark forms that floated and sank in the water.

A man to Iliya’s right lost his mind as every soldier standing next to him was struck by a bullet. He screamed and tried to run away, but was shot in the face by the Major.

Iliya was almost as scared now of the Major behind him as he was of the enemy in front. He didn’t know for sure who they were, some men had said that the planes were Miklanian, but he didn’t know. It was dark when they came over, and dark now. He had heard that Miklanians were the ones that used accurate rifles. In school he had learned how they take their children and force them to learn how to be soldiers. They were supposed to be weaker than men fighting for the glory of communism, but the single bullets appearing in his comrade’s chests were giving him doubts about whether that was true or not.

Oh shit. Iliya thought. As he plunged into the water himself he realized that he was in front now, all the men that were in front of him before were dead now. He felt like crying and raging at the same time, but all he could do was hope that none of the capitalist bullets were aimed at him.

I am going to die.