Skoistein War [MT]

[Skoistein]

Presidential Office,
Treneria City, Treneria
8:50 AM TCT.
President Allendale sat in the large plush chair behind his overflowing desk. He was swamped with paperwork from the recent events. The situation in Suikar Meer was starting to form on-wards, and a long-term conflict was not impossible. In almost anyone else's perspective, this would be negative. However, in the bored brain of Allendale and the rest of the Trenerians, it was the prospective for a very entertaining and rewarding excursion. Going to war was something that hadn't been done in at least a decade, and the people were missing the excitement, and the soldiers had grown weary with boredom. When Allendale's assistant came into alert him of the Skoistein-Suyalia conflict, he was more than thrilled. After a few quick phone calls and the signing of an executive action, the Trenerian Department of Defense had full capacity to operate and a quick plan was formulated.

Fort Alax,
South-Eastern Treneria,
1130 hours TCT.
The operators of the 4th Specialist Task Force, Special Warfare Tactics Group, stationed out of Fort Alax, were dying from apathy. They were warriors from birth, trained to be the ultimate fighters. They were the ones that went above and beyond the call of duty. Men who destroyed nations and won wars. However, as of recent, they were sitting on their thumbs, twiddling their asses. Finally, after almost a year of useless training and silence on the airwaves, word had come through the grapevine that something may be in the works. This greatly excited them, and they immediately began to prepare for war. They worked out, practiced on the range, and kept their mental states clear for the upcoming operation, even though it had yet to even be conceived. It was their calling, their will to live. They were true warriors.

Their efforts would prove worthwhile, as one sunny day in the South-Western Trenerian desert on the small Fort Alax, their commanding officer called them into a large tent that served as a briefing room for a "discussion". Once away from the public, their CO got straight to brass-tacks.

"Alright. You've all been hearing little gossips and whispers about the possibility of an operation, an actual operation. Well, here's the confirmation." The CO held up a manila folder. The operators, standing in their basic camis and military-issued boots had wide-open eyes as they stared at the folder. As if it were gold or a juicy prey and they were its predator, they watched it carefully. "There's a situation brewing overseas, and the head shack wants us to take a look into it. Information right now is sloppy and short, but here's the basics: Skoisten is a small nation that's completely land-bordered. They claim that their neighbors, Suyalia, sent espionage agents into their country. In return, Suyalia is claiming Skoistein is massacring their civilians. Our mission is simple for now: infiltrate the Suyalian-Skoisteinian border and look for evidence of rights abuse by the Skoisteins. We'll be hitch-hiking a ride with the Trenerian Navy, then discretely flying in under radar. The geography is small enough that we should be able to wrap around the borders and enter Skoistein or Suyalia at our own discretion. I think it goes without saying, but this op is airtight confidential. Top secret. If things go awry, we are on our own. That said, we are the best of the best. Are we not?!"

A loud, collective shout came from the group of operators.

"Gather your gear, get ready. We'll be deploying soon. Contact during this mission is to be kept at a minimum, so ensure you have your suppression equipment. If we are caught in the borders, expect a fight. You're all dismissed."

The operators nodded and dispersed to their bunks, to gather their gear and make short, somewhat mysterious calls to their families.

OOC: If I'm welcomed to RP, I'll make a follow-up post soon. I'd like to remind that this all is off-record ICly and very top secret right now.

OOC: Yeah your allowed to RP

[The Argentine Reich]

The following is a message from the Office of El Presidente del Reich Argentino:

To whom it may concern,

The Argentine Reich is ready to give limited support to combat the threat of a terrorist-state such as Skoistein and it's Communist allies. The evidence of attacks on civilians should not go ignored, and those nations that wish to support a nation that has the audacity to fight in the shadows, but has no intent of fighting a fair and honest war shall also not go ignored. As I am writing this, the war machine of the Reich is mobilizing. I have dispatched one carrier group to the waters near the combat zone. My intent is to launch bombing raids on enemy positions, supply drops for allied ground forces, and help provide protection to allied ships and ports. I have placed Admiral Ricardo Reid in charge of the operation, and I expect he will offer full cooperation with you and your allies. We must work together to ensure a safer and more secure future for the world, and the Reich will always be on the side of righteousness.

May we win the victory that we know must be,
Alejandro Heinz,
El Presidente del Reich Argentino
Buenos Aires, Argentina

[Newne Carriebean7]

Carriebean Port of Havana
The man sat quietly in the car as it drove through the port, inside the driver was carrying a man that was to lead the invasion force, a man known throughout carriebean history as one of their best men to lead such a fleet, as the aging automobile stopped, he opened up the door and let him out, Admiral of the Fleet Uesugi Kenchin dusted his shoulders off and smirked at the port, it was a mess of men running about and getting supplies ready, several Tanks sat in neat rows in some regiments, while others some were stacked literally on top of one another as the normal provisions of rum had been tripled to energize the men even further into their own graves. As he took his eyes off the confusion, he saw the flagship, almost 25,986 tonnes of firepower and projection, the Carriebean Carrier Harold III, he was to be part of one of the biggest task forces the Carriebeanian Naval high command had authorized, or rather the President commanded, he had to take orders up top from that fat nosed, skinny as a took pick bitch that was his commander in chief, while he did question sometimes, he just wanted to keep the paychecks coming so he was silent for now.
As he climbed the slanted gangway of the carrier, he pulled out a picture of his wife, Nara, she had beautiful brown hair and some light freckles, he could not wait to see her once this minor skirmish was over. Putting the photo away, Kenchin entered the Planning room, where the other Admirals were gathered. Sitting down at the long wooden table, he merely nodded as a few late ones scampered into the room, too embarrassed to look up at their superior officer.
“Welcome everyone to this meeting; the task force will consist of three fleets, the first fleet, commanded by Oyatomi Katayoshi, will consist of the new carrier Zhackary I, seven destroyers, and a fleet logistical ship, The Second Fleet, under Myoshi Nobunga, will be made up of the older carrier Sarah II and again, seven destroyers, the Third Fleet will be made up of three carriers, the Harold III, Garther, and Larzao, along with a substantial destroyer escort of 21 such vessels, as well as 60 transports in the rear not far behind. I will command the third fleet, we are to maintain radio silence and only communicate in flash signals, smoke flairs, and other rudimentary types of communication, the ground forces we are carrying are over 60,000 troops, we will have a total of 500 jets and aircraft at our disposal, use them wisely. The First Fleet will take up the Port Flank, the Second Fleet the starboard flank. Any questions?”
A young man raised his hand.
“what is it, Yang Wenli?”
“ well sir, from what I see, would it not make more sense to put all the ships together, that way if something happens to the first fleet, they would have to attack both fleets as well.”
“but, that’s too much of a logistical nightmare, and, if we have all of our eggs in one basket, the mischievous enemy fox will raid our chicken coop without the farmer realizing, if you get my analogy.”
“No, I get it sir, sorry for me to ask.”
Kenchin merely nodded his head.
“any more questions? No? good. We move out at once.”
The staff dispersed the meeting and prepared for the battles ahead.

[Suyalia]

The following is a message from the Office of El Presidente del Reich Argentino:

To whom it may concern,

The Argentine Reich is ready to give limited support to combat the threat of a terrorist-state such as Skoistein and it's Communist allies. The evidence of attacks on civilians should not go ignored, and those nations that wish to support a nation that has the audacity to fight in the shadows, but has no intent of fighting a fair and honest war shall also not go ignored. As I am writing this, the war machine of the Reich is mobilizing. I have dispatched one carrier group to the waters near the combat zone. My intent is to launch bombing raids on enemy positions, supply drops for allied ground forces, and help provide protection to allied ships and ports. I have placed Admiral Ricardo Reid in charge of the operation, and I expect he will offer full cooperation with you and your allies. We must work together to ensure a safer and more secure future for the world, and the Reich will always be on the side of righteousness.

May we win the victory that we know must be,
Alejandro Heinz,
El Presidente del Reich Argentino
Buenos Aires, Argentina

Suyalia thanks The Argentine Reich for the support.

[Stjernland]

Obscene language, homophobic slurs, sexism, and (anti-French) racism will all be present in the following paragraphs. These do not represent my personal views, but rather represent the banter, if not the views, of the characters that I am role-playing. If you are of a sensitive mindset or under a certain age, I would suggest not reading the following paragraphs.

The Bohemian, Valmarinn District
Retfærdigheim, Kingdom of Stjernland

"Here's to you, and here's to me!" Rory bellowed, spewing phlegm and drops of damp, dark beer all over his brothers, "And if we ever disagree-"

"Fuck you! Here's to me!" the others joined in, laughing heartily as their glasses clanked together.

"No offense, boys," Rory called back, "But I wouldn't fuck a single one of you shower. If I turned into a bloody faggot, the ladies would go groaning in the streets with want." He teetered on his legs before plopping down on his chair with a creak. A broad grin gleamed from cheek to rosy cheek. His skin tone was so ruddy that one had to wonder how he could turn any redder. It contrasted sharply with his soot-black hair, and the unkempt beard that sprouted from his jawline accentuated his generally reddish complexion.

"They'd only be groaning because more of them would get to fuck me," Erland retorted, thumping a single fist on the table, "Everyone knows that you'd only make a good fuck in prison, Rory, you goddamn piss-pot." His snowy blonde hair was slick with sweat, and beads of perspiration hung on his pink, boyish face like dew on a peach. "Besides, are you sure you wouldn't fuck the lieutenant?" he questioned, smirking, "He's as pretty as a girl." A number of the men positioned around the table cried out in agreement, slamming the back of the unfortunate officer with unrestrained roughness. The man gave Erland a scorching look, then tossed back a shot of whiskey.

"Is that what your sister told you, Land?" Rory chuckled, "Well, she's more than welcome to visit me the next time I'm locked up. I don't normally fuck exes, but beggars can't be choosers. And I'm all about those conjugal visits." He paused, glancing over at his lieutenant. "Aye," he finally muttered, "Rainer's definitely easy on the eyes. I swear by the gods the waitresses are knocking the prices down a bit for him. Look over there." He gestured clumsily towards a blonde women standing behind the bar. She glanced away quickly, but it was obvious that her baby blue eyes had been dwelling at their table. "I swear," he slurred, "She's been eye-fucking him for the last fifteen minutes. This is a load of horseshit."

"You keep talking like that, Rory, and Land'll be the one going to prison," Rainer said, a hint of laughter gleaming behind his words. He drained another glass of whiskey with a gulp before gingerly setting the glass next to the bottle he had ordered. "I'd prefer not to celebrate my birthday in the drunk tank," he continued, "Or by being banned from my favorite bar."

"How else would you spend your twenty fourth?" Rory demanded, incredulous, "We need to get you good and drunk. Then you can bust some poor civvie in the head, and find a girl to keep you warm tonight."

"More like a girl'll find him," Eric chimed in, as he walked back from the bar nursing the rum and coke he had just ordered, "I don't think Old Sigurd could ban him. The girls would go on strike like the dockworkers did a few weeks back. The gods know that the only thing they love more than a quick buck is that shit-eating grin of his." He took his spot next to his lieutenant, and chuckled. "How about it ladies' man?"

"Perhaps," Rainer conceded, his lips tight, his expression contemplative. "You know, Ric," he mused, "You're the only drinking buddy I have who brings up politics." Despite his faintly accusatory tone, Rainer appreciated this habit particular to Eric Gundersen. It kept him on his toes, ensuring that he remained abreast of current events, even in faraway countries. An officer, especially one enlisted with the einherjar, needed to possess a worldly disposition, and knowing tidbits never hurt. Still, mentioning anything so serious at the moment would spoil the mood, so, instead, Rainer had elected to make light of it.

"No kidding," Erland mouthed, slurping beer liberally as he did so, "That said, if I'm going to be caught up in a picket line, I'd rather it be with these foxes. Big, hairy dockworkers aren't really my thing. That's more up Rory's alley, and, by alley, I mean a dark, secluded alley in fucking Orkney." A few men sprayed booze from their pruned lips or their noses at the jape, with one or two of the group clapping in riotous approval.

"Fuck Orkney," Rory said, enjoying the exchange a bit more than one might have expected, "You can't tell the men from the fucking women. They both have mustaches and forests for legs." He reached down and pulled the leg of his jeans up to reveal a thick phalanx of prickly black hairs. "Aye, boys," he boomed in response to their disgusted looks, "Just like me. Gods know I'm an ugly bastard."

"I'll drink to that," Erland replied, "Maybe, if Rainer kisses you, you'll turn into a prince."

"He's more likely to turn the lieutenant into a frog," Eric remarked, lazily chugging the last bit of his rum and coke, "And I'll be damned if I follow a Frenchman into battle." He peered glumly at his empty glass for a moment, before setting it to one side. "Shit, boys," Eric said in exasperation, "Are the garthurnir playing a prank on me or am I just an alcoholic? It looks like I need another drink." With that, he wandered back towards the bar, stopping briefly to flirt with and subsequently lock lips with a waitress.

"Following a Frenchman into battle has its perks," Fritjof reasoned, shouting so that the retreating Eric could hear, "If the commander runs off and we all get blown up by a goddamn IED, we'll get to meet the rúmeyjar that much sooner. Dying with my head on a goddess's lap is definitely in the top ten of my bucket list." Fritz, as the unit called him, was one of the more happy-go-lucky members of the unit. Joking about death, a very near possibility for einherjar, seldom phased him. Most of his brothers, however, could never muster the same lightness of spirit. In truth, despite all their courage, all their training, and all their joyful vigor, they were afraid.

Rory had his three little brothers to think of, as he was their sole provider. Their father had been an alcoholic who made a habit of beating their mother and him. It had gradually escalated until their mother wound up in the morgue and their father went to prison. Anyone who knew this story, as every man in the unit did, knew why Rory drank so much. It was too painful to dwell on. Despite his vulgar jokes, despite his teasing which verged on unkind at times, despite his rampant womanizing, Rory had a big heart. He loved his siblings, and did his best to ensure that they made it through school. He only hit the bar after he had checked their homework, cooked them a hot meal, and tucked them into bed. At the age of twenty eight, he was the oldest member of the unit, and the one most accustomed to rambling about retirement from the military. Nonetheless, they all knew that he would never quit. He had dropped out of primary school to work in the lucrative petroleum industry years back, trying desperately to provide for his family, and then, after being laid off, he had enlisted in the military. Not coming back wasn't an option for him. He didn't want his brothers to be wards of the state. His death would mean that his family would be broken up. It was too much to think about.

Erland had his mother, little sister Johanna, and wife Stina waiting at home for him every time he went into the war-zone. Each time he was deployed the waterworks and tender words began. They loved him more deeply than their words would ever be able to say. He felt this truth in every sinew, in every fiber of his being. He made a habit of carrying pictures in his wallet, of him and Johanna as children, of him and his wife Stina on their honeymoon. He'd recently added a new picture to the collection. It showed a tall, flaxen-haired man with supple, pink lips standing next to a petite woman with mousy brown hair. The wrinkles at the corners of her red-painted lips and around her piercing blue-gray eyes animated how deeply she was in the throes of her laughter. Erland had just whispered something into his wife's ear, and his thin fingers were sprawled across her engorged belly, cradling their unborn child. He seemed almost frightened of pressing too hard. He had chatted merrily with his brothers-in-arms only yesterday, prattling on and on about how lucky he was and betting Rory a drink that it would be a boy.

Eric had his parents and four-year old daughter Misty to burden his thoughts, even during times like these. All the men knew the little girl, who loved nothing better than to bounce up and down on her father's shoulders as he strolled around on base. Children weren't technically allowed, but most of the officers made exceptions for Eric, who was so affable that scolding him seemed unkind more often than not. Those who would not make exceptions for Eric never caught him. There were perks to being with the einherjar. The men often showered the precocious toddler with treats or helped her build sheet-and-pillow forts in the barracks. Once Eric and Rainer had arranged for their unit to take her fishing off the coast of Skye, much to the chagrin of their commanding officer of their company. She had become something of a mascot to the platoon, and everyone knew how deeply Eric doted on his daughter. He never even threw away a single one of her drawings. His parents were friendly with the platoon too, having hosted them at supper multiple times. Mr. Gundersen, as they insisted on calling him, had been a veteran of the einherjar some years ago, and so he understood them well.

Fritz, however, had nothing to lose. Nothing but his brothers. He had grown up an orphan, getting into trouble for petty burglaries twice before he turned fifteen. At fourteen, he had began experimenting with marijuana and cocaine. By seventeen, he had graduated to abusing heroin. He had been friendless, homeless, jobless, and completely self-loathing by the time he was given the choice between prison or military enlistment with supervised drug rehabilitation. By the age of twenty, he was clean, and, by the age of twenty three, he had found a family in the platoon. He had thirty five brothers, all of whom he loved dearly. As much as he joked about dying, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to see these men who loved build their families and accomplish their dreams. What's more, he wanted to build a family of his own. He wanted to find dreams of his own beyond the einherjar, beyond the shadow of the valley of death. He had so much left to do.

As for Rainer, he had his own reasons for staying alive.

"Only you'd go on about fucking goddesses, Fritz, you bastard," Rory belted out, "Are real flesh and blood women not good enough for you or some shit?" The men guffawed heartily, passing around massive, ornate pitchers filled with dark, malty beer and glasses of bourbon, rum, and fine brandy. They persisted in trading jokes and insults well into the night, with most of those coming from Rory, Erland, or Eric. Rainer was the butt of most of these jokes, understandably so given that it was his birthday. They chided him, tossing out names like "sir" or "lieutenant" or "your worship." The last of these was Eric's notion.

Ten minutes before closing time, when their bottles and mugs had been emptied, Rainer purchased five rounds of shots for the table, having to shake off the waitress as politely as he could before returning to the table. "Careful with that one," Eric warned him, giggling drunkenly, "She might roofie you." Rainer rolled his eyes at the verbal jab. "Drink, you goofy son of a bitch," he barked. "Now, now," Erlind cackled, "Maybe that's his kink. We'll just let whatever happens happens." Rory leaned in conspiratorially. "What if her big friends come waltzing over?" he asked.

"Why," Rainer said evenly, "I expect you to protect your commanding officer by whatever means necessary. If a grenade flies my way, fall on it." This elicited a flurry of laughter from the other men, and left the more or less wasted Rory speechless. "Hey now," Fritz began, "Grenades aren't that bad." Rainer allowed the din of their banter to warm him, even as his thoughts returned to the phone call he had received from Brigadier General Aaraas earlier that same day.

"You're to be deployed in two weeks' time. Some place called Skoistein. The specifics of the mission will be covered in the dossier. Read over it tonight and report to the briefing tomorrow afternoon with it fully memorized. 3 pm, sharp, lieutenant." Rainer would worry about that matter when it came up, but, for now, he'd just focus on getting his boys home safe and sound after their night on the town. Himself too, for that matter.

FROM: Brigadier General Martin Aaraas, Acting Commander of Special Forces and Reconnaissance Units

TO: Suyalian Military Central Command

SUBJECT: Assistance with Intelligence, Reconnaissance, Special Operations, and Precision Airstrikes

ENCRYPTION: ABSOLUTE

---

I have been instructed by the Lord-Regent to perform a supporting role in your pending military operation. In order to accomplish this mission, I have been instructed to contact my counterparts in the Suyalian Military and offer any assistance deemed appropriate by said counterparts. With your permission, troops and arms will be deployed to Suyalia within two weeks in an effort to bolster your action against the belligerent regime in Skoistein. These troops specialize in long-range reconnaissance, the coordination of precision airstrikes, covert rescue missions, and the elimination of priority targets, though their exact use will be left up to the discretion of unified Stjernlander-Suyalian command. I'll keep in touch.

[Nations United for Conquest]

Above Skoistein
0900hrs
Operation Float: Day 1

The afternoon was filled with the rumbling of jet engines cutting across the sky. It was a NUC air convoy, the first of many to be sent to Skoistein. The Large Tu-14s overhead, 8 in total carried everything from food and medicine, to special forces members, to tanks. Each Tu-14 was escorted by a flight of Yu-27Ks, launched from the approaching 4th and 5th NUC fleets. The Air convoy slowly began to decend, dropping from 50,000 feet, down to 25,000 feet as they approached the drop zone slowly the large cargo doors opened at the back of the Tu-14s. The lead two began dropping first. Each plane held 10 T-13 light tanks, which slowly began to slide out the backs and fall safely towards the drop location. The next two Tu-14s moved into position, each one was holding 12 crates, loaded with food, ammo and medicine. The next two Tu-14s preformed the same drop. Finally the last two approached. Each was loaded with 200 Shock Troopers, the most elitle fighting force in NUC, and one of the best in the world. 4 at a time, two from each plane, they dropped into the cold air. They were falling fast, coming close to 10,000 ft, then 5,000, then 1,000, then the parachutes were deployed filling the sky with little black dots, each with a white and blue bow above them. The troops floated safely to the groud, only losing one man to a rolled ankle. They were immedatly greeted by Skoistein forces and helped them move and recover the other supplies. They would begin training the next day. The operation went well, and there would be more, some even bigger, coming in the next few days

[Thij empire]

A paper landed on the desk of the NUC President. Mark with the seal of the ministry of Foreign Policy he could only wonder what was inside. He looked at the paper and began to read through it. After a moment he spoke to his aid. "We will not stand for this, another smaller country being pushed over like that. Send word to General Weber and Admiral Wolf at once, we are sending support to this country ASAP!" "Yes sir!" The aid hurried out of the room to carry the message onto the minister of Defense. The President began typing out a message to Skoistein:

To Skoistein
From NUC

We do not wish to be involved in a full on war, at the moment atleast, but we do support you and believe some of the thing your country have been accused of are false, We do not want to see another nation just be pushed to the side, just as it begins to develop and form an idenity. We do not plan on engaging your enemies directly at this point in time, but we will however, be sending the 8th NUC fleet, along with Special forces members, pilots and supplies for you army

Skoistein thanks the NUC for the support.

To Skoistein
From Thij
We will give you weapons aid and support we are on your side we do not wish for great country like you to be accused of something thats not true

[The Argentine Reich]

Naval Recon Planes, launched from the ARA, were sent to scout the area ahead of the fleet. Many nations were answering the call to war, and it was ridiculous to assume that we were the only fleet being mobilized. For hours, the patrols found nothing, but the closer they got to Suyalia, the greater the sense of impending conflict. The plan was to protect the major ports along the coast of Suyalia, and only send aircraft to the combat zone. Hopefully, these ports would not already to home to rival fleets looking to plunder.

[Suyalia]

Obscene language, homophobic slurs, sexism, and (anti-French) racism will all be present in the following paragraphs. These do not represent my personal views, but rather represent the banter, if not the views, of the characters that I am role-playing. If you are of a sensitive mindset or under a certain age, I would suggest not reading the following paragraphs.

The Bohemian, Valmarinn District
Retfærdigheim, Kingdom of Stjernland

"Here's to you, and here's to me!" Rory bellowed, spewing phlegm and drops of damp, dark beer all over his brothers, "And if we ever disagree-"

"Fuck you! Here's to me!" the others joined in, laughing heartily as their glasses clanked together.

"No offense, boys," Rory called back, "But I wouldn't fuck a single one of you shower. If I turned into a bloody faggot, the ladies would go groaning in the streets with want." He teetered on his legs before plopping down on his chair with a creak. A broad grin gleamed from cheek to rosy cheek. His skin tone was so ruddy that one had to wonder how he could turn any redder. It contrasted sharply with his soot-black hair, and the unkempt beard that sprouted from his jawline accentuated his generally reddish complexion.

"They'd only be groaning because more of them would get to fuck me," Erland retorted, thumping a single fist on the table, "Everyone knows that you'd only make a good fuck in prison, Rory, you goddamn piss-pot." His snowy blonde hair was slick with sweat, and beads of perspiration hung on his pink, boyish face like dew on a peach. "Besides, are you sure you wouldn't fuck the lieutenant?" he questioned, smirking, "He's as pretty as a girl." A number of the men positioned around the table cried out in agreement, slamming the back of the unfortunate officer with unrestrained roughness. The man gave Erland a scorching look, then tossed back a shot of whiskey.

"Is that what your sister told you, Land?" Rory chuckled, "Well, she's more than welcome to visit me the next time I'm locked up. I don't normally fuck exes, but beggars can't be choosers. And I'm all about those conjugal visits." He paused, glancing over at his lieutenant. "Aye," he finally muttered, "Rainer's definitely easy on the eyes. I swear by the gods the waitresses are knocking the prices down a bit for him. Look over there." He gestured clumsily towards a blonde women standing behind the bar. She glanced away quickly, but it was obvious that her baby blue eyes had been dwelling at their table. "I swear," he slurred, "She's been eye-fucking him for the last fifteen minutes. This is a load of horseshit."

"You keep talking like that, Rory, and Land'll be the one going to prison," Rainer said, a hint of laughter gleaming behind his words. He drained another glass of whiskey with a gulp before gingerly setting the glass next to the bottle he had ordered. "I'd prefer not to celebrate my birthday in the drunk tank," he continued, "Or by being banned from my favorite bar."

"How else would you spend your twenty fourth?" Rory demanded, incredulous, "We need to get you good and drunk. Then you can bust some poor civvie in the head, and find a girl to keep you warm tonight."

"More like a girl'll find him," Eric chimed in, as he walked back from the bar nursing the rum and coke he had just ordered, "I don't think Old Sigurd could ban him. The girls would go on strike like the dockworkers did a few weeks back. The gods know that the only thing they love more than a quick buck is that shit-eating grin of his." He took his spot next to his lieutenant, and chuckled. "How about it ladies' man?"

"Perhaps," Rainer conceded, his lips tight, his expression contemplative. "You know, Ric," he mused, "You're the only drinking buddy I have who brings up politics." Despite his faintly accusatory tone, Rainer appreciated this habit particular to Eric Gundersen. It kept him on his toes, ensuring that he remained abreast of current events, even in faraway countries. An officer, especially one enlisted with the einherjar, needed to possess a worldly disposition, and knowing tidbits never hurt. Still, mentioning anything so serious at the moment would spoil the mood, so, instead, Rainer had elected to make light of it.

"No kidding," Erland mouthed, slurping beer liberally as he did so, "That said, if I'm going to be caught up in a picket line, I'd rather it be with these foxes. Big, hairy dockworkers aren't really my thing. That's more up Rory's alley, and, by alley, I mean a dark, secluded alley in fucking Orkney." A few men sprayed booze from their pruned lips or their noses at the jape, with one or two of the group clapping in riotous approval.

"Fuck Orkney," Rory said, enjoying the exchange a bit more than one might have expected, "You can't tell the men from the fucking women. They both have mustaches and forests for legs." He reached down and pulled the leg of his jeans up to reveal a thick phalanx of prickly black hairs. "Aye, boys," he boomed in response to their disgusted looks, "Just like me. Gods know I'm an ugly bastard."

"I'll drink to that," Erland replied, "Maybe, if Rainer kisses you, you'll turn into a prince."

"He's more likely to turn the lieutenant into a frog," Eric remarked, lazily chugging the last bit of his rum and coke, "And I'll be damned if I follow a Frenchman into battle." He peered glumly at his empty glass for a moment, before setting it to one side. "Shit, boys," Eric said in exasperation, "Are the garthurnir playing a prank on me or am I just an alcoholic? It looks like I need another drink." With that, he wandered back towards the bar, stopping briefly to flirt with and subsequently lock lips with a waitress.

"Following a Frenchman into battle has its perks," Fritjof reasoned, shouting so that the retreating Eric could hear, "If the commander runs off and we all get blown up by a goddamn IED, we'll get to meet the rúmeyjar that much sooner. Dying with my head on a goddess's lap is definitely in the top ten of my bucket list." Fritz, as the unit called him, was one of the more happy-go-lucky members of the unit. Joking about death, a very near possibility for einherjar, seldom phased him. Most of his brothers, however, could never muster the same lightness of spirit. In truth, despite all their courage, all their training, and all their joyful vigor, they were afraid.

Rory had his three little brothers to think of, as he was their sole provider. Their father had been an alcoholic who made a habit of beating their mother and him. It had gradually escalated until their mother wound up in the morgue and their father went to prison. Anyone who knew this story, as every man in the unit did, knew why Rory drank so much. It was too painful to dwell on. Despite his vulgar jokes, despite his teasing which verged on unkind at times, despite his rampant womanizing, Rory had a big heart. He loved his siblings, and did his best to ensure that they made it through school. He only hit the bar after he had checked their homework, cooked them a hot meal, and tucked them into bed. At the age of twenty eight, he was the oldest member of the unit, and the one most accustomed to rambling about retirement from the military. Nonetheless, they all knew that he would never quit. He had dropped out of primary school to work in the lucrative petroleum industry years back, trying desperately to provide for his family, and then, after being laid off, he had enlisted in the military. Not coming back wasn't an option for him. He didn't want his brothers to be wards of the state. His death would mean that his family would be broken up. It was too much to think about.

Erland had his mother, little sister Johanna, and wife Stina waiting at home for him every time he went into the war-zone. Each time he was deployed the waterworks and tender words began. They loved him more deeply than their words would ever be able to say. He felt this truth in every sinew, in every fiber of his being. He made a habit of carrying pictures in his wallet, of him and Johanna as children, of him and his wife Stina on their honeymoon. He'd recently added a new picture to the collection. It showed a tall, flaxen-haired man with supple, pink lips standing next to a petite woman with mousy brown hair. The wrinkles at the corners of her red-painted lips and around her piercing blue-gray eyes animated how deeply she was in the throes of her laughter. Erland had just whispered something into his wife's ear, and his thin fingers were sprawled across her engorged belly, cradling their unborn child. He seemed almost frightened of pressing too hard. He had chatted merrily with his brothers-in-arms only yesterday, prattling on and on about how lucky he was and betting Rory a drink that it would be a boy.

Eric had his parents and four-year old daughter Misty to burden his thoughts, even during times like these. All the men knew the little girl, who loved nothing better than to bounce up and down on her father's shoulders as he strolled around on base. Children weren't technically allowed, but most of the officers made exceptions for Eric, who was so affable that scolding him seemed unkind more often than not. Those who would not make exceptions for Eric never caught him. There were perks to being with the einherjar. The men often showered the precocious toddler with treats or helped her build sheet-and-pillow forts in the barracks. Once Eric and Rainer had arranged for their unit to take her fishing off the coast of Skye, much to the chagrin of their commanding officer of their company. She had become something of a mascot to the platoon, and everyone knew how deeply Eric doted on his daughter. He never even threw away a single one of her drawings. His parents were friendly with the platoon too, having hosted them at supper multiple times. Mr. Gundersen, as they insisted on calling him, had been a veteran of the einherjar some years ago, and so he understood them well.

Fritz, however, had nothing to lose. Nothing but his brothers. He had grown up an orphan, getting into trouble for petty burglaries twice before he turned fifteen. At fourteen, he had began experimenting with marijuana and cocaine. By seventeen, he had graduated to abusing heroin. He had been friendless, homeless, jobless, and completely self-loathing by the time he was given the choice between prison or military enlistment with supervised drug rehabilitation. By the age of twenty, he was clean, and, by the age of twenty three, he had found a family in the platoon. He had thirty five brothers, all of whom he loved dearly. As much as he joked about dying, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to see these men who loved build their families and accomplish their dreams. What's more, he wanted to build a family of his own. He wanted to find dreams of his own beyond the einherjar, beyond the shadow of the valley of death. He had so much left to do.

As for Rainer, he had his own reasons for staying alive.

"Only you'd go on about fucking goddesses, Fritz, you bastard," Rory belted out, "Are real flesh and blood women not good enough for you or some shit?" The men guffawed heartily, passing around massive, ornate pitchers filled with dark, malty beer and glasses of bourbon, rum, and fine brandy. They persisted in trading jokes and insults well into the night, with most of those coming from Rory, Erland, or Eric. Rainer was the butt of most of these jokes, understandably so given that it was his birthday. They chided him, tossing out names like "sir" or "lieutenant" or "your worship." The last of these was Eric's notion.

Ten minutes before closing time, when their bottles and mugs had been emptied, Rainer purchased five rounds of shots for the table, having to shake off the waitress as politely as he could before returning to the table. "Careful with that one," Eric warned him, giggling drunkenly, "She might roofie you." Rainer rolled his eyes at the verbal jab. "Drink, you goofy son of a bitch," he barked. "Now, now," Erlind cackled, "Maybe that's his kink. We'll just let whatever happens happens." Rory leaned in conspiratorially. "What if her big friends come waltzing over?" he asked.

"Why," Rainer said evenly, "I expect you to protect your commanding officer by whatever means necessary. If a grenade flies my way, fall on it." This elicited a flurry of laughter from the other men, and left the more or less wasted Rory speechless. "Hey now," Fritz began, "Grenades aren't that bad." Rainer allowed the din of their banter to warm him, even as his thoughts returned to the phone call he had received from Brigadier General Aaraas earlier that same day.

"You're to be deployed in two weeks' time. Some place called Skoistein. The specifics of the mission will be covered in the dossier. Read over it tonight and report to the briefing tomorrow afternoon with it fully memorized. 3 pm, sharp, lieutenant." Rainer would worry about that matter when it came up, but, for now, he'd just focus on getting his boys home safe and sound after their night on the town. Himself too, for that matter.

FROM: Brigadier General Martin Aaraas, Acting Commander of Special Forces and Reconnaissance Units

TO: Suyalian Military Central Command

SUBJECT: Assistance with Intelligence, Reconnaissance, Special Operations, and Precision Airstrikes

ENCRYPTION: ABSOLUTE

---

I have been instructed by the Lord-Regent to perform a supporting role in your pending military operation. In order to accomplish this mission, I have been instructed to contact my counterparts in the Suyalian Military and offer any assistance deemed appropriate by said counterparts. With your permission, troops and arms will be deployed to Suyalia within two weeks in an effort to bolster your action against the belligerent regime in Skoistein. These troops specialize in long-range reconnaissance, the coordination of precision airstrikes, covert rescue missions, and the elimination of priority targets, though their exact use will be left up to the discretion of unified Stjernlander-Suyalian command. I'll keep in touch.

To: Stjernland leaders
From: President Lygon

Thank you for the support we need all the help we can get.

[Suyalia]

~Near Krora~

~Inside a Suyalian transport helicopter~

Private Smith sat in the helicopter worried and scared that he may not survive this war and not get to see his wife or newborn daughter he reached into his pockets and looked at a picture of his wife name Hannah and his baby son name David he felt bless to have a family. But then everything change when President Lygon declared war on Skoistein for killing Suyalian tourist he had to go into the military to fight a may be soon bloody war.

"How long until we reach Krora?" His captain asked the Pilot.

"Three hours until we reach the city." The Pilot replied.

Smith sighed and put the picture back into his pocket and gets ready to be deployed into the fires of hell.

[Skoistein]

~Krora, Skoistein~

Commander Erickson is inside his tank waiting for the Suyalian invasion force to come he has been waiting to kill these damn Suyalians it made him sick to his stomach that President Lygon accuse his proud country for going on a mass genocide on the Suyalian's that lived in Skoistein. But that's not true just before war was declared every Skoisteinan citizen was getting along with the Suyalians.

"I can't believe Lygon makes such lies about our great country... He's nothing more than a damn pro-imperialist man wishing to expand his power." Erickson said to himself.

[Swusia]

~Capitol Building~

Queen Lydia sat in her office sad that a war had to happen again for many years Swusia has tried really hard to keep world peace but sadly every time Swusia tries to use peaceful diplomatic meetings to end a war before it starts never works. And now the people of Skoistein are going to suffer Suyalia's imperial expansion.

[Ceslein]

~Capital city of Skoistein~

Comrade Dragovich smiled and waved to the kids that live in the capital city of Skoistein.

I guess these kids think Ceslein is their hero But that is not true the People's Army of Ceslein was in the capital city of Skoistein after getting permission from their government to help defend the capital. Through Ceslein only main goal was to stop Suyalia's imperialist actions against third world countries.

[Newne Carriebean7]

Harold III, Flagship of the Skoistein Expeditionary Fleet

Admiral of the Fleet Uesugi Kenchin sat down, tired at the dinner table, he had been up most of the day trying to perfect other strategies to win the war, but none of them worked out in his head. staring at the clock, he realized it was half past 5, and rapidly closing on six o'clock. he tapped on his small watch he had on his wrist and put it down as the door opened, and trays of food came out. fresh lobster, a bowl of honey butter rice with honey butter rolls on the side, several types of roast beef and some special macaroni and cheese casserole. smiling at the frantic cooking staff who looked tired, he motioned for them to come here.
"Yes sir? is everything ok?"
" everything looks fine, you did a terrific job! good boys, that's all."
the staff merely gulped, nodded,and ran back inside the kitchen with the coordination of the three stooges when they were wasted on rum.
as he grabbed the silverware next to him and picked out a plate,the door opened and he saw several officers enter the room, forcing him to hold off eating for a breif moment.
" sir, you need to take a look at this."
"what is it? I am very busy eating right n-"
an explosion threw him off his plates of food, landing everywhere on the floor.
" what the hell was that?!"
"It appears our allies have opened fire on us! there are fires on the flight deck and water is pouring into the sides!"
"what?"
as he stood up and rushed out the door to the balcony, the ship shuddered, followed by a sound of an explosion, which it shuddered again, throwing some poor sailors overboard into the sea.
" get me a damage report and tell that destroyer to stop firing on us!"
as he ran up to the bridge, it felt harder, almost as if the ship was... turning his head, he looked at the angle of list and saw it was at 10 degrees to starboard. cursing and shaking his fist violently at the destroyer, he reached the bridge and shoved the scrawny helmsman aside and took the wheel, rapidly turning it to port. the new ship responded by trying to turn to port as best it could, but the wheel snapped and broke off, hitting the side of the hull.
reacting fast, he pressed a button on the control panel and had all the water tight doors on the starboard side closed. as an aide barged into the room, he saluted quickly before helping him up.
" here are my orders, send down damage control teams to put out fires on the flight deck, salvage what you can from the planes, and get me the captain of that destroyer, he is in a lot of trouble."
"aye aye admiral!"

[Stjernland]

Docking Terminal C, Maximilian T. Hattestad International Airport
Sollefterness, Kingdom of Stjernland

On paper the initial stages of the operation were simple. They would travel through uncontrolled civilian airspace to Suyalia, disguising themselves as passengers aboard Intercontinental Airlines's fleet of Boeing 777 planes. It would take no less than six aircraft, each carrying 430 enlisted personnel, to accomplish this objective, and the head honchos in the Special Forces division had moved mountains to ensure that flights were redirected and genuine passengers were informed of "complications" in their flight plans. Within a little over twenty four hours, the einherjar would touch down near the Skoisteiner-Suyalian border, and wade through customs like any other tourists with their enemies none the wiser to their true purpose. Lighter weapons and munitions would be covertly slipped into the cargo hatches of the Boeing 777's, while an air-wing consisting of support planes, mostly the Airbus A400M Atlas, and stealth fighters, especially the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II, would transport the helicopters, ATV's, and other heavy equipment to the designated site. This would require several round trips, meaning that that Stage I of Operation: Quiet Breeze would take no less than two weeks, providing no complications occurred.

Of course, a woman's tears can wreak havoc on paper and ink. Every romantic poet in Stjernland's history would vouch for that. At the moment, the woman in question was Stina Mathiasen. She had come down with her husband from Retfærdigheim by plane two nights ago, and had shared a room with him since then. She had chattered happily with the men of her husband's unit over breakfast each morning, seeming unaffected by Erland's looming departure. Even when they had filed into Docking Terminal C with a somber hush falling over them, Stina had remained composed and dignified. It was only when her husband's flight was announced that the dam had broken and the tears had come pouring forth. Frantic, pitiful sobs echoed through the cozy if somewhat humble lounge area. Land embraced her fiercely, pressing her moist face gently against the crevice of his own heaving shoulder.

"None of that, love," he soothed her, struggling to keep his own eyes dry, "The boys are watching. You'll spook them if you keep it up." This only made her convulsion more poignant. "I'll be back soon," he ventured, "I'll be back in time to see our son born. I promise."

This caused Stina to perk up ever so slightly, though her mascara still ran in splotchy little streams. "How do you know it's a boy?" she asked in a near whisper.

"I don't," Land laughed, "But I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I want to teach my son to fish and hunt one of these days, and I can't very well do that if I have a daughter, can I?" His wife smiled weakly at that, and Land began to wipe the wetness from her eyes with a light brush of his hand.

"I want my first to be a girl," she declared in a spirited tone, "And I'm the one that got knocked up, so I should get to choose." Land squeezed her with one arm, bringing the palm of his free hand down to rest against his wife's protruding belly.

"Just so," he said, his eyes sparkling as he gazed into her baby blues. His was the gaze of a man who was madly in love with his young wife, a man who was relishing in his new found role as an expecting father.

"That doesn't mean we can't have a couple boys too," Stina gushed, almost erupting into tears again, "When you come back."

"When I come back," Land agreed, mussing her brunette curls with tenderness that belied his martial occupation, "I swear I'm going to build you a great, big house on that old lake you love so much. We'll have four boys and three girls. And, every night, I'll take out my guitar and play for you like I did when we were dating."

"You'd better be back in time to meet Alexandra," she threatened, collapsing into sobs again before peering back up at him with a mix of venom and love.

"Little Ally?" he mouthed, joy radiant on his face, "I like that name." He pressed his lips against hers, lingering a few seconds longer than most would have considered courteous in a public place. "And how could I miss the birth of my little girl?" he demanded, chuckling to himself, "I'll be there. It's a promise. Even if I have to kill a thousand Commies by myself to do it."

"I love you!" Stina exclaimed, kissing him again as waterfalls welled up at the corners of her eyes. "I love you too," Land said calmly, clinging to her for what seemed like an eternity, his arms reluctant to let her slender form go.

Rainer Alfsangr watched the tender scene unfold from across the lounge, catching a few muddled parcels of the conversation. He did the same every time his platoon was deployed. It reminded him of how important the men and women under his command were. They weren't just soldiers. They were husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters. They all had families praying for their safe return, and people who loved and relied on them. This was his family, and he would soon be responsible for ensuring their survival.

Snapping out of his reveries, Rainer dusted a few peanut crumbs from his tight-fitting, long-sleeve shirt. It had been fashioned from stunning black silk, making the remnants of his pre-flight snack stick out all the more. Brigadier General Aaraas had instructed them to avoid wearing fatigues until after they had disembarked in Suyalia, and so most of the men and women in the platoon had dressed casually. Rainer had selected the aforementioned smart-looking shirt, matching it with a pair of faded blue designer jeans, mahogany alligator skin boots, and a matching leather belt. His fashion epitomized that of the suburban upper middle-class of Stjernland, and accentuated his natural good looks and dark features. Few of his men had ever seen him dress in anything other than fatigues or his officer's uniform, so seeing him in his casual wear had elicited a maelstrom of jeers and playful insults. Rainer sensed a movement coming towards him from behind, just detecting a hint of mint-scented perfume as the person moved closer. He tensed on instinct before forcing himself to relax. He wasn't on the battlefield yet. There was no reason to be so guarded.

"You'll look after him, won't you, lieutenant?" a girlish voice asked. Rainer glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the woman's long, golden-blonde hair and intelligent, gray eyes. Her skin was an alluring alabaster hue with tints of rosy pink glistening from her high cheekbones. The bridge of her nose was neither too wide nor too narrow, and it had a slight upward point around the nostrils and the base. She was thin, almost a slip of a girl, though none would have said so and meant it. She was wearing a low-cut dove gray blouse that hung a few inches from her bosom and a pair of dark blue jeans that hugged her meager curves in a manner that wasn't quite sultry. A golden necklace encrusted with black pearls and chunks of topaz and garnet was perched at the base of her neck. Johanna Mathiasen had taken a break from her final exams to see her brother off from the airport, setting the entire platoon on notice. Half of them had developed crushes on the vivacious university student, in no small part due to her feisty personality and fashion model good looks. She was staring at him intently, looking for any sign of reassurance or uncertainty, like a lioness stalking its prey.

"You have my word I'll bring your brother back to you," Rainer said at last, meeting her gaze with a knowing gaze of his own.

Johanna seemed content with this answer. She nodded demurely, and clapped him on the shoulder with a single, tiny hand. "You always do," she acknowledged, "That doesn't make this any easier." A saturnine expression hijacked her features, making her cool, gray almost irresistible. Rainer was tempted to console her, to make her belief that everything would be alright, but he knew better than to give into this impulse. His experiences with the platoon had taught him that such words often made later heartbreaks all the more sorrowful. He had made one promise too many already. "It's not supposed to be easy," he offered at last, "If it were easy, we men would forget how awful war truly is." Saying this, he gave the hand she had rested on his shoulder a soft pump with his own, then brought it down, entwining his fingers with hers.

"It is awful," she said after awhile, watching her brother and sister-in-law say their goodbyes, "I hate it. I hate it with every fiber of my being."

"I know," Rainer replied, "I hate it too." He felt his hand fall from his grasp, and slide against the leg of his jeans. His pocket knife was within easy reach, hanging off the rear of his left front pocket. He frowned slightly, preparing for the coming outburst. Johanna was a well-spoken, thoughtful girl much of the time, but she could be opinionated and stubborn, and often was. He tolerated it, however, because he knew that every seemingly insensitive remark she made came from a place of concern and care rather than wanton hurtfulness.

"Why did you become a soldier then?" Johanna inquired, cocking her head to one side.

"The same reason as your brother," he lied, "It's a messy job but somebody has to do it. We fight so that others don't have to, and, sometimes, in doing so, we make the world a little kinder." He spoke the lie so naturally that he almost believed it himself. The truth was that he had nowhere else to go, but saying that would have made Johanna angry. Johanna bit her lip hard, on the verge of breaking down, prompting Rainer to wrap an arm around her. It was a brotherly gesture, nothing more. "Don't let them see you weep," he counseled her, "It'll cause them to lose heart."

"I know that," Johanna fumed, shaking off his arm defiantly, "I... I just pray... that one day you, my brother, and the others'll come back to stay." She peered at him intently again, a wrinkle forming above her right eyebrow. "I'll do my best to make it happen," he allowed, "I'm at your beck and call, princess." This earned him a swift elbow to the ribs, making him wince. Johanna stood next to him, gazing down at her sandal-clad feet, her lean arms crossed rigidly across her chest. Her lips were pursed into a grumpy pout. "Don't call me princess, you ass," she sighed at last, "Thank you though. I think I'll be okay now..." They stood together in silence for a moment before a cacophonous voice perturbed their solace.

"You two having a moment?" Rory called, stomping up behind Rainer and throwing a bulky, flannel-clad arm over his shoulder and chest. Ever the hick, Rory had adorned himself in a flannel button with a patchwork design of reds, blacks, and maroons, a pair of workingman's blue jeans, and a set of old, worn leather boots. "Like what you see?" he asked Rainer when he caught him examining his outfit with exasperation.

"It wouldn't matter if we were having a moment," Johanna shot back, "You'd ruin it either way." She gave her ex-boyfriend a sharp look that warned him to be on his best behavior.

"I like what I see," Rory whispered in his ear, "Don't tell me she's got the hots for you too, lieutenant. That might actually piss me off."

"You're about to piss me off, Rory, you ass," Johanna said, stamping her foot, "Land told me about all the shit you said at the Bohemian the other night. Just remember, I can put a stiletto through your foot any time I want."

"Shit, Hanna," Rory grumbled, "I was going to take you to dinner when I got back, but-"

"Not on your life," she huffed, "Rainer, on the other hand, might still have a chance." She winked at him, then strolled over towards her brother who had just finished comforting his wife. "I'm going to talk to my brother," she called back, "You two come back safe, you hear? Or I'll put stilettos through your feet."

"Better do as she says," Rory warned him, "She's scary for such an itty-bitty girl."

"Yes, sir," Rainer concurred, "Where's Ric? Still with Misty?"

"Aye," Rory answered, "He took her to get some gummy bears. Mr. Gundersen's trying to pry her from his arms now. He'll be a mess by the time he gets back here." Every member of the platoon knew how emotional Eric got whenever he had to leave his daughter. It often took two or three men to part them, both with physical force and soothing words. Misty was too young to understand why her father got so emotional. She didn't know the risk a soldier's job entailed. This made it that much harder for the person who had to pry the girl from her father's arms or stymie his weeping. Mr Gundersen was the best for the task, but Rainer knew that he and Rory would likely need to intervene at some point.

"Take care of her and mom for me," Land said to his sister before sauntering past them with a ridiculous, straight-as-a-pole posture. He stopped only to give a whimsical salute to Rainer before marching the rest of the way down the terminal. Only four members of the platoon remained in the terminal. Heidi, a bleach-blonde demolitions expert, was kissing her girlfriend Karla passionately near the entrance of the terminal. She was a relative new recruit, and one who was more or less unfamiliar to Rainer, but her previous commanding officer had given her top marks. When Heidi caught sight of him, noting his impatience, she said a swift goodbye, pecked Karla on the lips playfully once more, and turned down the terminal.

"We've got ten minutes," Rainer remarked at last, "Let's go fetch Ric. It wouldn't do to miss our flight." The meandered through the crowded lounge, making a bee-line for one of the many shops that lined the large room. When they caught sight of Ric, who was peppering his daughter with kisses, Rainer turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulders. "Remember to harden your heart," he stressed, "We have no other choice." Rory nodded. "I know" he spat venomously, "But I hate it all the same." With that, they went about completing Stage I of Operation: Quiet Breeze.

[Kecla]

The 21st Keclan Airborne Division will arrive in Skoistein in five days many of the soldiers in the transport planes are scared to death that Skoisteinan AA guns will shoot them down. But if they do die they'll go to a happy place a place where there's no war, sickness, or death.

[Elysian Regions]

Operation: Shield Wall
Operation: Shield Wall
2016-06-30 @ 0129 Hours MST
To the North of Skoistein just out side of the port town of Bleka.

13th Elysian Drop Troop Regiment / 1st Battalion / Alfa Company


The 13th EDTR was tasked to sent a Company to take and hold the town of Bleka, It was the first town as you entered Skoistein and would act as their forward operations post as they would spread themselves out along the northern half of the border. The 145th Elysian Mechanized Regiment would land afterwards and drive out to the capital to spread themselves out along the southern half of the border. Their job was to hold the frontline and keep forces form engaging each other by physically putting themselves in between the combating forces. For the 145th it would be easy all they had to do is drive their tanks in between them and park them. As for the 13th well they would have to become more inventive.

The 9th Combined Arms Corps would be fully deployed in roughly a weeks time so they would have to make do with over 30'000 men that were being deployed the would hopefully be in position the following day. However they did have their air support and as for the local Skoistein forces they would be holding the front as well. It would be difficult but the 9.CAC would have to occupy the region between the border which could be a few meters in some places. They had adorned the light blue helmets as the universal symbol of peacekeeping forces to hopefully help them with the sever shortage of soldiers if either side attacked they would defend themselves accordingly.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

At 0220 Hours
Bleka, Skoistein.
Alpha Company/ 1st Bat. / 13th EDTR

With the town in sight the 145 members of Alpha Company landed at the docks in Bleka, this was without permission and could lead to combat with Skoistein officials however that was the least of their worries. All hell was going to break loose over the Skoistein-Suyalia Border and they had no time to deal with people who very well be killing in a genocidal fashion. Which would be more than enough for the Elysians to kick them to the curb and take the small country and create it as a DMZ to keep the right leaning imperialists and the left leaning communists away from each other.

The Captain leading Alpha company (which was roughly 3 platoons with a weapons detachment) to advance deeper into the city from the dock area. His goal was to take the city hall and the police station as quickly as humanly possible. As it was two in the damn morning and most of the attention would be at the border there would be very little in terms of resistance. As for the local population that would be another matter entirely, Beta and Gamma companies would arrived roughly twenty minutes after them then Battalion Command with the final five other companies one at a time finishing off at 0400 hours with Battalion HQ.

-=-=-=-=-

@0234 Hours
Bleka, Skoistein.
Alpha Company HQ / 1st Bat. / 13th EDTR

"Alpha Actual this is White 1-1, Approaching City hall now, Easter side of the city is clear of combatants, left White 1-2 to hold the Eastern entrance to the town, Over."

"White 1-1, this is Alpha Actual, Roger, Red 1-1 and Blue 1-1 are enroute to their targets, Green 1-1 is still in support. Over&Out" the Captain spoke quietly.

Alpha Company managed to secure a warehouse at the docks as an CP (Command Post) the Weapons Platoon had set up their 120mm "Revolver" Mortar Teams just out side. The HMG Teams and the Marksman Teams attached to the Weapons Platoon went to the front of the docks and set up defensive positions to stop persons from moving down that dock and into the CP. White, Red, and Blue Platoons advanced to capture and hold key areas. They also moved to secure The fire hall and made a quick stop at each church to disable the bells in the town to avoid any warning to get out. Any officers on duty were immediately subdued and sent to the CP. Any one up at the time were quietly led home and told to stay put. Blue platoon temporaly cut the telephone and cell tower connection in the town to avoid anyone calling outside of town for assistance. This would all be returned when the rest of the 13th and 145th arrived and they left the town.

[Suyalia]

The Suyalian army is near the city of Krora but they don't invade the city they waited until High Command gave them orders three hours later High Command gave them the green light. Once ordered to attack Suyalian bombers fly over the city and start bombing the city once the bombings were over the Suyalian soldiers charged at the city with tanks and helicopters.

[Skoistein]

The Suyalian army is near the city of Krora but they don't invade the city they waited until High Command gave them orders three hours later High Command gave them the green light. Once ordered to attack Suyalian bombers fly over the city and start bombing the city once the bombings were over the Suyalian soldiers charged at the city with tanks and helicopters.

A total of 56 soldiers died and a total of 120 citizens died from the bombings this caught the Skoisteinan soldiers off guard however they don't retreat because of the bombings. They will stay and defend the city and their country from the Suyalians.

[Nations United for Conquest]

To Skoistein
From NUC

We have deployed the 4th and 3rd Ma-6(Mobile Artillery) Divisions withing range of your city. We have also landed several Gu-17 Bombers. We are awaiting permission to use them

[Skoistein]

To Skoistein
From NUC

We have deployed the 4th and 3rd Ma-6(Mobile Artillery) Divisions withing range of your city. We have also landed several Gu-17 Bombers. We are awaiting permission to use them

The Skoisteinan Government gives NUC permission to use the mobile artillery.

[Nations United for Conquest]

Above Skoistein

A Iu-5 streaks high above the battlefield below. It is on a dire mission, Foward Observing. It flies directly above the approaching army, very well knowing that it could be shot at any moment. It's sensors pickup up almost crystal clear pictures of the advancing army, and there base. Along with video to show how they grouped their troops so that the artillery could be used for maxium effectiveness. The Plane was just completing it's last run when the EWS indicators began flashing. The Pilot broke into a steep dive as he franticly looked around for the source of the warning. The Flashing only got worse as the unseen attack moved closer. Finally the pilot went into an upside down loop, and that's when he spotted the SAM missile streaking right for him. He deployed counter-measures only to relize that missile was laser guided and he was not equipt with Electric counter-measures. He began to take evasive action, diving then rolling and climbing, but it was to no avail. The missile stuck to him like glue. He tried moving towards friendly territory, he barely made it. The missile had already closed the distance and was right on his tail. He had one last move to try. As the missile slowly reached him, he pulled a sharp turn to the left hoping to throw off the missile. It did, but the missile struck his right wing, blowing off the stabilzer. The pilot was able to regain control of the aircraft and bring down to a crash landing in a field. He may have been knocked down, but he still got the needed info back to the artillery

Undisclosed Location

The Pictures began streaming into the Artillery Commander. The Target corridnates were distributed to all off the artillery computers, 20,000 of them in all. They began firing at once. The noise of the approaching army was broken by a whistling sound, one that only grew louder and louder. The troops advancing towards the city had no idea what it was, until it was too late. They had been caught out in the open, and the long stretch of plains before the city would be the grave yard for most of them. The shells fell almost in unisons, some being later than others. 20,000 HE shells fell all at once on the advancing army. The stength of the impact was so much that, what few soldiers were not caught in the blasts were flung off their feet. The fibrations could still be felt by the artillery crews, over 8 miles away. There was a brief lull in the shelling, mainly because some Howitzers were being filled with smoke rounds. Then the shelling resumed. It was no longer shells in unison but rather a continualy rumbling sounds of thousands of shells falling. The occasional smoke round only added to the confusion. The shelling slowly rose to a climax where each artillery piece was firing 4-5 shells a minute, over 100,000 shells per minute in total. This climax lasted for 10 minutes dropping a million shells onto the enemy army. Then slowly thr shelling was brought back down to eahc Howitzer only firing 1 shell a minute, still stagered and not in unison, until evenually the firing stopped. The Damage of over a million HE shells had been done to the enemy army, no doubt killing thousands and wounded others. Not to mention the vehicles now destroyed and littering the field outside of the city. The Howitzers moved locations to avoid detection, cleaned and cooled their guns, and then prepared for when ever the next shelling would begin. Another Iu-5 was sent up

[Suyalia]

Many soldiers died during the artillery strike however the Suyalians won't give up so easily but before the soldiers charged in again more Suyalian bomber planes began's to bomb Krora again and tries to destroy any artillery in the city.

[The Argentine Reich]

The Argentine Fleet arrived to the waters of Suyalia's Capital, and immediately began patrols along the coast.

Several planes were also launched to keep an eye on things and to find other planes.

[Nations United for Conquest]

Due to engine failures on two of the NUC 4th fleets destroyers, The 6th, 7th, and 9th SSGN fleets and the 2nd and 7th SSN fleets have arrived. Some remain stationed around the Skoistein coast, while the rest head out into the ocean to patrol and search for the enemy fleets.

OOC: SSGNs are nuclear powered missile subs, while SSNs are nuclear powered attack subs