NATION

PASSWORD

2nd Great Division (IC)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]

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Gotengo
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Postby Gotengo » Mon Mar 20, 2017 11:43 pm

OOC: I'm using Los Angeles population numbers based on the assumption that the population decreased following the Division. Due to purges by the Communist Party, losses to enemy air raids, non-Communist's leaving the city for less-Red areas

Los Angeles, California
Socialist Republic of Columbia


By this time the city population had mostly evacuated, and only about four-hundred and fifty thousand civilians and/or military personnel were left in the city; which worked out well, the NKVD could cover up those four-hundred and fifty thousand easily. The fact that approximately 2 1/2 million others were evacuated in time would help with that. However, as he was ordered, Zubek and the NKVD evac forces he had been given, had ensured that all Party officials were evacuated well-before the weapon was launched. Stahl and others would need to address the public in the immediate aftermath so as to assure them of why this happened and how it helped the Socialist Republic of Columbia. No one would very much be able to understand why the SRC's closest ally, and global big brother nation of Communism, the World Union had launched a nuclear weapon at the capital of the SRC. However, it was imperative that they know this was a means of holding up the capitalist advance.

The other advantage of destroying Los Angeles rather than allowing for a protracted siege was that it would deprive the enemy of a valuable staging ground. Stahl had neither the men nor the resources to hold off the enemy on two fronts for more than a couple days. If the Loyalists captured a mostly intact Los Angeles, they had a prime staging ground for further ground operations into either Mexico or farther up the West Coast. The Capilean's still couldn't land troops by the hundreds of thousands because their fleets had to do a dance with those of Russia, China, and Japan in the Pacific. With neither the World Union nor Capile officially at war with the other, fleets couldn't attack each other outside of Columbian waters, but that didn't mean they couldn't threaten others away. However, given increasing German support for the Loyalists, many in Red Forces High Command feared that soon the Union would to worry about not just the Capilean Navy, a formidable force in its own right, in the Pacific but also the Kaiser's fleets. Though the World Union had bloodied the Capilean's at Kingman Reef, preventing them from supporting their forces at Hawaii, the Germans wouldn't have the same problem.

If Germany sent a fleet to Hawaii, they had a multitude of bases in the Pacific to launch from, satellite reconnaissance and orbiting ballistic missile equipped upper stages, as well as Italian support. The World Union couldn't do anything to hurt them until they got to Hawaii itself, and by then it could be too late. Well, it could act....if formal war broke out between the World Union and the German Empire, but that was a less than desirable situation. Both sides were technologically advanced, with large, capable militaries, and a plethora of nuclear weapons. Even if such a war remained entirely conventional, MAD was still the most likely outcome.




The blast was so loud that it could be heard as far away as San Francisco and San Diego but for miles all anyone could hear was blank noise and for miles the land was scorched. The impact site was the Workers Hall in the center of the city, but it was not limited to there. Thirty kilotons, twice as powerful as the bombs the United States used against Hiroshima and Nagasaki, that was what was unleashed upon Los Angeles. Of those ~450,000 remaining in the city before detonation, more than half simply burned to shadows against the ground in the moment of impact. Every building within a kilometer radius (The city of Los Angeles has an area of 1.3 Kilometers for the metropolitan city) was simply either burned away or essentially shattered beneath the shock waves. For the rest of the city, naught was left but ash and ruin, worse even than the destruction visited upon Berlin in 1945.

(Berlin was left in even greater ruin by the Battle of Berlin in 1945 than either Hiroshima and Nagasaki were by the atom bombs during the same year)

San Francisco

Zubek watched as Stahl visibly paled at the news of the New Unionist assaults. Though he could not understand why. This worked to their advantage. "Comrade General Secretary, this is excellent news. The German's and their European Community will see the fascist dogs in the East as the greater threat, and so will be less likely to focus on what happens here out West. By the same notion, the murderous fascists will be too caught up with their fight against the Germans." Zubek, as a man of the NKVD, was able to give his true opinion of the Germans here. "Much as we are loathe to acknowledge and which the Union cares not mention to the public, the Germans are rather good soldiers with very good equipment. At the moment only France, Britain, Russia, Japan, China, or India can match them for technological capability. Both the Germans and NU will bleed each other in the East, allowing us to concentrate on the Loyalist forces encroaching on us here." He turned to the General for that. "On that situation then?"

There had been a number of candidates for the post of military governor for 'liberated' California, however Red Forces High Command had chosen Brigadier General Martin Homes of the British People's Army, as the commander in the area. Homes was a veteran of several decades, having served in Libya, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, India, and Japan, thus he knew what he was talking about.

"Right then. As expected, Loyalist and Capilean forces alike have stopped in their tracks, they did so almost as soon as the warhead detonated. We estimate a small number of enemy units acting as forward assault troops or reconnaissance, were wiped out in the blast. In any case, we still have close to a million, possibly more than, enemy troops in our area, poised to resume their advance." He typed in some commands on his desk computer and then spun it around, showing a map of California on the monitor. "Now, to our advantage is that most of the highways have been clogged by the civilians who evacuated from Los Angeles before detonation, not simply highways leading into Communist territory, but also those leading into occupied areas as well. This will make it harder for the enemy to move his forces more efficiently by road, possibly forcing them to hike it through open country. In the South where the main enemy forces are present, much of the terrain is desert, and that will not be favorable for troops forced to move through open country. Better still, about twenty thousand of the evacuees are either military personnel or state security officials. This should help us in gathering intelligence on the enemy." He now turned to the idea of a counterattack.

"We've been busy up here. Since liberating the city, troops have been flown and shipped in from World Union members on the other side of the Pacific." The monitor began scrolling down through a list of units that had arrived recently. "I've received three Japanese divisions, about 30,000 troops, and since Japanese divisions are combined arms formations, I'm holding them as any-role replacements. If another division needs to be recalled from fighting, one of these will take over until that division can return to action."

"Next, the Russians have sent me quite a large quantity of troops to work with. Two Guards Tank division's, four Motorized Rifle division's, one Mechanized division, one Guard's Artillery division, an Air Defense division, and even a Spetsnatz brigade. This totals at about 135,000 troops and these forces will form the bulk of our available units. I plan on having them form the center of our thrust to the South. As for the Spetsnatz units, they offer about 1,600 commandoes, which will be a useful asset. They will be exceptionally good for hitting the enemy where he least suspects it."

"The remainder of our ground troops consist mostly of a mix between Chinese and Vietnamese troops. Two Infantry divisions and one Artillery division from Vietnam which is about 30,000 troops, plus an Armored division and an Air Defense division from China giving us another 18,000 or so. All in all our total forces count out at a cap of about 213,000, whereas we are looking at an enemy more than twice that number as our opponent. Intelligence reports that the Capilean's alone put close to half-a million troops ashore at San Diego. No telling how many Loyalist troops marched in from the East, best guess puts it at past three hundred thousand."

When questioned by Stahl as to how he intended to win this fight, Homes had an answer ready for him. "Well Comrade General Secretary, our equipment is, across the board, better than most of what the Loyalist forces have got. It seems that the fascists snatching most of Columbia's more modern equipment is actually helping us out here. Don't get too happy, they've still got quite a bit of their latest power armor models and combat vehicles with them, but not enough to outweigh us." He wasn't wrong; at the moment, the Russian SSR, Chinese PR, and Japanese SSR possessed among the worlds most technologically advanced militaries. The Vietnamese were armed with Chinese equipment since their own would not have been up to snuff. "However, only our Russian forces are to the same level as the Capileans on most fields. The Chinese might have better fixed artillery, but that won't do much for our counterattack. Not to mention our opponent is Field Marshal Walther Nemetz, one of, if not, the best commanders in the Capilean military. This will be no easy fight." The Brigadier General had to return to his work as the aircraft tally began to come in.

Zubek produced from a folder on the desk, a document that was in speech format. Which fit as it was indeed a speech. "Comrade General Secretary, though you will certainly have your own words to say when you address the nation concerning Los Angeles, we would like you to include this statement when announcing the nuclear strike."

Mere hours ago, the city of Los Angeles, was consumed by nuclear fire from a missile launched by our gallant allies in the World Union. This was not an act of betrayal, no. This was an attack on the capitalist dogs and fascist pigs who intended to storm the city and rape it to their pleasure! The enemy would have desecrated shops and homes, dragged women of all ages out onto the street to be raped and children to be molested, rounded up brave soldiers of the Revolution to be executed for fighting for the freedom of the peasants and workers! We evacuated the city most thoroughly before detonation, and those citizens now make their way back to Red lands where the imperialist monsters cannot touch them. However, one hundred thousand perished with the city, to the great regret of both myself and all free people of the world. Some were simply too late in being evacuated, while others, brave heroes, were members of a volunteer militia which attempted to hold up the enemy near the city outskirts. When the mushroom cloud went up, these courageous men and women smiled, for they knew they had done their duty to further our Socialist cause! Now, the capitalists are deprived of their festival of horrors they intended to visit upon the city, as they visited horror upon San Diego and San Francisco, yet, they are also deprived of a valuable staging area from which they could have attacked North.


"You can add in the rest of your speech but please don't forget this part."

OOC: I'll add in Cabo soon to this post
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Postby New Decius » Tue Mar 28, 2017 12:30 am

Paris

Von Strohm had never wanted more in his life, to crawl into a dark hole and die, than in that moment in Kacharr's office. He was less concerned about Eckels knowing since Berlin had informed him that the Capilean Ambassador to Germany was informed a short time ago. No, what worried him was that the World Union knew. To have ones most dangerous and hated enemy know your darkest secret was not a desirable scenario.

The damn Iranian had Germany by the testicles and he seemed prepared to squeeze and squeeze hard. The World Union obviously realized that with the Kaiser out of action, the Reich would suffer massively from internal conflict if another world war were to occur. Not to mention that, Herr Eckels comments aside, military minds in both empires most likely realized that World Union members like Russia, France, China, Japan, Britain, and India were capable of making a match for either Capile or Germany individually on military terms. Eckels was nationalistic and that was always good, but here rational thought was needed.

With no other choice he was forced to confirm the Iranian's comment. "Yes, His Imperial and Royal Majesty, is currently in a coma from which he is not expected to awaken for at least two weeks." Then he turned to Wilhelm. "Herr Eckels, I do not mean to offend, for you and I have always had a good working friendship, but open your eyes man. The bloody red has it right! Russia alone is a technological equal to either of our empires! As are France, Britain, China, and Japan! I am not willing to plunge Germany into a war that would devastate both it and the world! Even without nuclear weapons, a conventional war would still offer the possibility of MAD!" It was true; Capile, Germany, and the Union all possessed the weaponry and troops to make a conventional Mutually Assured Destruction possible.

New York City

Though the New Unionist attack certainly caught the Italo-German forces in New York off-guard, particularly since the disaster relief efforts were still underway meaning many of the positions attacked were the field hospitals packed with too many civilians and not enough doctors, they made one crucial mistake. They underestimated the resolve of the European troops. Despite having only 1,300 marine troops available, all of them having come from the marine guard compliments aboard the German and Italian ships, they used those troops to prioritize the safe evacuation of civilians from combat zones. All non-combat personnel were being evacuated to the docks of New York Harbor, where the weapons of the anchored warships would keep the New Unionists from getting too close. The two aircraft carriers (German Supercarrier SMS Grauwolfe and Italian Fleet Carrier RMS Liberta) were putting every plane in the sky they could, hindered by the fact that each ship had committed a fourth of its pilots to help with relief efforts.

Against the massive New Unionist offensive, this small force could do little more than protect the civilians from their onslaught of destruction. However, the goal of Vizeadmiral Wilhelm Stalder, commander of the task force, with this slow delaying action, was to keep the New Unionist's at bay long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Before the attack began, three divisions had already been underway to NewYork City, each from a different European Community member; a German Fallschirmjäger (Paratrooper) Division, an Italian Arditi (Special Shock Troop) Brigade, and a Hungarian Artillery Brigade. The Fallschirmjäger and Arditi were coming by plane and so would touch down at JFK International Airport in about seven hours, while the Hungarians would arrive by sea in about twelve hours. Until then, New York would have to hold out on its own. These brave defenders were praying to God to give them seven hours, just seven hours to keep people safe and keep the enemy out.




Felix Baum, War Corespondent for the European International News Service, kept his head down as a smattering of bullets came through the glass in the front lobby of the New York City Metropolitan Hospital. His hand-held camera was still broadcasting a feed live to a news station in Berlin though he often now was missing good chances for footage in his efforts to stay alive. All the same he kept at his job and reported the news. He panned the camera past scenes of doctors and nurses alike scrambling to evacuate the patients before the New Unionists could take the hospital. Most of the doctors were Columbian ones whom had worked here before the first battle and had come through intent on helping those who survived, though at least two dozen were German or Italian medical officers helping with both treatment and evacuation.

"As you can see, the advancing fascist forces have created a scene like something out of hell here at the NYC Metropolitan Hospital. Doctors, both Columbian and European, are rushing to evacuate as many as they can before the oncoming New Unionist troops can overrun the hospital. Several artillery rounds have struck the upper floors, showing the fascists are making no distinction between soldiers and civilians here." Felix walked closer to the doors and showed a view of outside the building.

A perimeter of sorts had been established out of rubble, smashed vehicles, anything that could be found really. Within this perimeter were twenty men in the combat uniforms of the Seebataillon (Imperial German Marine Corps) and twelve in the combat garb of the Lagunari (Italian Royal Marine Service) firing their weapons at any approaching enemy they saw. Most were armed with assault rifles or carbines, but some had a Panzerfaust 3 Anti-Armor Rocket Launcher nearby for dealing with enemies who had Power Armor.

"The German and Italian defenders are giving their all to protect the civilians and ensure they get to safety. Already a number of brave men have lost their lives making sure civilians could get away from harm. All we can do now is hope that reinforcements arrive soon."
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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Postby Gotengo » Wed Mar 29, 2017 8:41 pm

First Columbian Front, Cabo
Province of Sonora, Occupied Mexico, Socialist Republic of Columbia
Operation Golden Remorse; Success


Kapitán Ivan Kaloshkov didn't know what to think of this as he and his men looked at what was coming towards their perimeter. In the past twenty-four hours, it was estimated that approximately a thousand Capilean soldiers had surrendered to World Union forces by crossing this perimeter which encircled Warlimont's cathedral headquarters in the center of the city. It was an airtight ring where armor and machine guns blocked the roadways, infantry squads lay hidden in houses while snipers took positions in high windows. The ceasefire wasn't set to end for seven hours yet...which didn't mean this display was a total surprise. They had expected some to mount a last assault, maybe several hundred, but not...shells of men.

This pack of defiant Capilean's made its way towards the Russian cordon in a mixed gait; some were still fit enough, possessed enough limbs, or had the barest of energy left to run at a moderate jog while others could barely hobble along down the street. Bravery aside, the sight of this group of almost corpses was enough to nearly make Ivan retch. He'd seen pictures of the soldiers and scant civilians who'd made it through Stalingrad, and yet here before him were living humans even more ghostly. Though a couple of them were charging like proper soldiers or plain idiots, take your pick.

Never mind their bravery, Ivan wanted to shout at them that they were idiots, that they were all about to die, but he couldn't. Firstly they probably didn't know Russian, and secondly he would probably be shot for what could be seen as assisting the enemy. So he did what he had to, what the dialect demanded he do to all capitalist soldiers, what his superiors ordered him to do.

Before any of his men came to the same conclusion, Ivan took it upon himself to fire the shot that would spark the ensuing massacre. Bringing his AN-94 up to fire he took aim at the man in the front, whose rags still bore some resemblance to the uniform of a high ranking officer, and whom had a sabre in hand. About to pull the trigger, Ivan had one last thought. 'You men who are about to die shall be remembered for your bravery in death. History will know you as those who never surrendered, who flew their flag until there was no man left alive to hold it.' Of course he would never actually speak these words. Indeed, this was a very socially unreliable thought and he could be charged with counterrevolutionary activity if he actually said them.

Then he let loose a quick three round burst at the man who appeared to be the leader. He watched as time seemed to slow down and the man was struck, one into a lung, another in his shoulder, and the third in his lower torso. Blood splattered about, but still the man kept going. Ivan was shocked, he should be dead, he took three 5.45x39mm rounds to the torso and he kept going. Ivan let loose another three round burst and hit him again in the chest but still he kept on coming forward. 'What the hell! Is he one of those Spektronian super soldiers we saw in Afghanistan! It took more than a dozen heavy caliber rounds to down those monsters!'

By now other soldiers were starting to fire their weapons, only small arms though, nothing heavier yet. Here and there Capilean's were shot, and some did go down to the cobblestones, but others kept going, in fact most of them did. Ivan was getting afraid now, if they made it to their lines it would be horrendous. About two hundred of those Stoßschutz against this checkpoint force of about sixty. As the senior officer here, it was to Ivan that command fell to. "Switch to full automatic and fire at will!" Now you had thirty soldiers with assault rifles firing at full auto against the tidal wave surging towards them. Still that wave kept coming, no matter how many bullets it took, the wave kept going.

And some of them were firing back with whatever firearm they had grabbed before leaving their bastion. A soldier next to Ivan was swearing profusely. "What does it take to kill the cu-" his profanity was cut off when several rounds struck him in the chest and he fell back. Now this was serious, Ivan had to give the orders to use the heavy weaponry. Still he didn't want to order a massacre here; opponents they might be, but those Capilean's had seen hell and still fought on.

He had no choice. Over his radio he sent the orders to the two mortar stations and the three machine gun teams. "Commence firing." Then, in a moment which would be paramount to treason of Socialism, he prayed to God (The God he was supposed to not believe in any more) for the souls of these men to go to Heaven (The Heaven he also should not believe in any more).

Within two minutes, an 82mm mortar shell landed right in the middle of the wave, detonating 3.14kg of HE in their ranks. That punched the ticket for quite a few of them, and so did the second shell seconds later. Then the Pecheneg's opened fire.

These machine guns spat out 7.62x54mm death at 600-800 RPM. Unlike the mortars and assault rifles, this seemed to do the trick. Row upon row of them were ripped to pieces by these guns, some were simply blasted off their feet. Some were struck and the simply stood for a few seconds before dropping to the ground in a lump. It was horrific.

After four minutes, only one man was left standing, somehow. It was the commander, wheezing along with blood pouring from half a dozen wounds, his sword handing limply in his hand. Ivan chose to bear the force of guilt on his shoulders; he took out his bayonet, fixed it and began walking forward towards the man. Upon approaching him, he whispered "I'm sorry and you will not be forgotten" before promptly plunging the bayonet through his heart.
Last edited by Gotengo on Sun Apr 02, 2017 5:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby New Decius » Mon Apr 03, 2017 6:09 am

Aboard the train

Klemm was positively shaking in his boots as he watched this metal...monster rip through flesh and bone like they were paper. As a member of Abwehr Section 7, he was aware of the super soldier program, Werwolf and had even been to the facility twice, it was located deep inside one of the Himalayan mountains. They did horrendous experiments there and sometimes feral creatures were created from what had once been human beings, but that was nothing compared to this. Why even Subject Alfa (Hans Günsche), the only successfully created super soldier so far, would have difficulty taking down this monster. Yet for some reason he still pulled out his Lüger P100 sidearm and took aim in the general direction of the monster claiming to be the former King of Columbia. He was saying prayers in Latin while he awaited the hour of judgement.

Then a wondrous call came over his comlink, oh what a fantastic call it was. He turned to Titus. Where one moment ago he was filled with fear, he now seemed to be leaping for joy. "Your Majesty! That was Captain Jäger of the 6th Regiment Blitztruppe, that's a War Frame unit! His and four other units are in a dropship now, waiting to deploy anywhere along the route needed! Is there a station or some other point they can drop at to intercept our attackers?" Just then another call came in to Klemm, from the Blitztruppe Regiment again. "What? Are you sure?" Then he turned once more to Titus. "Your Majesty, the Captain has informed me that one of our satellites has picked up a communications signal coming from here to another location, it does not appear to be any code or cipher used by your government or armed forces." Then he turned to Riesch. "It does however bear resemblance to Capilean coding. Not current, some years old it appears."

Once more to Titus. "The Captain wants to know which target to undertake. Saving all of us at the next closest location, or possibly tracing a way back to whoever sent this metal monstrosity. The choice is ultimately yours sir." What a weighted decision. The War Frames in that dropship could, with their heavy weaponry and hydraulic powered strength, give 'Foley' and his companions a run for their money...hopefully. If they could smash an armored brigade then hopefully they could smash these things. However, it might be more prudent to send them to find whoever commands their attackers.

(OOC: Wanted to make things interesting. Give Titus a choice between using them to save the occupants of the train or use them to find whoever sent Foley after them. Its that weighted choice everyone would hate to get and in a way a test of ones true character as a person. Now when you read this, keep in mind that I never said they would find the Order or know about it, just that a signal had been picked up in the area. Unless its alright to find them at this stage of the proceedings.)

Schlachtgruppe.III, Pazifikflotte
Hawaiian Islands, Pacific Ocean


When the Acting Chancellor said that he would send a fleet to liberate the Hawaiian Islands from the Red's, he was good on his word. Schlachtgruppe.III, a battle fleet attached to the Pazifikflotte (Pacific Fleet) Command out of Hong Kong, was now heading swiftly into the Hawaiian Island chain to assault the World Union forces occupying them. The German eagle was at last taking flight, its talons reared to tear the Communist's from their entrenchment on the islands.

For this operation, codenamed Adler (German: Eagle), the battle fleet had been strengthened to account for the World Union fleet stationed at Oahu. This force, commanded by Admiral Erich Dönitz, boasted a Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus I-Class Supercarrier, 2 Blücher-Class Fleet Carrier's, 5 L-15-Class Helicopter Cruiser's, 3 D-17-Class Guided Missile Cruiser's, 9 Z-21-Class Guided Missile Destroyer's, and 7 Z-23-Class ASW Destroyer's. Additionally, the fleet contained two 'special' weapons; a pair of the brand new prototype Graf Spee-Class Nuclear Battlecruiser's.

These mighty warships were an idea inspired by the Capilean Super-Battleships. After witnessing the power of those mega warships during the Columbian Civil War, the German Imperial Navy began raising bloody hell for German shipyards to produce a supership for the Kaiserrich so as to balance the scales. With a displacement of 75,450 long tons at full load, they measured out at an overall length of 376.5m with a beam of 54m and a draft of 13.95m, making them approximately a half size larger than the old Bismarck-Class. Powering them were five K3Z (Cruiser;Third Gen;Zeiss) Nuclear Reactors, which, while expensive, allowed the ships the same propulsion advantages as a Nuclear Aircraft Carrier. The class carried a number of CIWS and SAM systems onboard as well as two 8-cell VLS pods for V-22A Anti-Ship Ballistic Missiles, another new innovation. The V-22A could kill a ship of any size in one shot and send it to the bottom. What made them so special however, was the main armament; two forward turrets each carrying an experimental 280mm EM railgun intended to be the perfect ship killer. The ships also carried two rear turrets with conventional dual barrel 15 inch mounts for battery fire.

As a marine landing was not viable or advisable given enemy fortifications, the main troops participating in the actual seizure of the islands would be from the Fallschirmjäger deploying from dropships modified to carry infantry forces. Normally dropships were used for deploying in War Frames, but four were modified so that four regiments of Paratroopers could airdrop right onto the island of Oahu for seizing key targets. Those key targets were Wheeler Airbase, the Governor's office where reports said the majority of the former garrison officers were being held, as well as two other locations inside the city of Honolulu. There were marine elements taking part in the assault, but only after the Red naval forces were incapacitated and the paratroopers had dropped. Waiting to the rear of the fleet were 5 A-8-Class Amphibious Assault Ships carrying five regiments of the Seebataillon as well as two BT Carriers ferrying two squads of the 13.Regiment Marineblitztruppe, all for an assault on Naval Station Pearl Harbor once the way was cleared. The five regiments included three Marine Infantry and two Marine Armored.




Admiral Erich Dönitz, whose name was an unfortunate matter of same surname different family, panned the binoculars across the horizon, observing the Communist fleet at anchor at Oahu. They were sufficiently out of range of enemy radar range while still being close enough to test the new weapons. To that effect, Dönitz had chosen the SMS Günther von Klüge as his flagship, the Supercarrier being sufficiently away from either Battlecruiser that it would be safe if the new EM railguns failed in a rather horrible fashion. Right now those very railguns were being prepped to fire on the Russian warship Admiral Kuznetsov, well the first forward gun on the SMS Goethe was being trained on the enemy warship. If it failed to fire or, worse, the weapon exploded in an overload then the Battlecruisers would have to resort to their conventional weapons, well that operated under the theory the weapon didn't destroy the ship or cause a reactor to go critical.

Admiral Dönitz almost laughed when sighting the Kuznetsov in the binoculars. A relic of the dying days of the USSR, he could hardly believe it still floated, let alone that the Russian's kept it in active service. As far as he could see, the only use for such a ship were the nuclear missiles it could carry. A signal came through that the targeting and pre-firing procedures for the railgun had been completed on the SMS Goethe. Dönitz saw that as the disadvantage to such a powerful weapon, it took a devil of a time to target and prep to fire. Still, time to see if those hundreds of billions spent developing the bloody thing were worth it. He gave the all clear for firing.

Two minutes later, an almighty bang, so powerful the Admiral's ears popped, hell the entire fleet's ears might have popped. Dönitz suspected that everyone on the island of Oahu just had their ears pop. The very air crackled with electricity as the HVKP (High Velocity Kinetic Penetrator) shot forth. Dönitz was awaiting either an almighty explosion on the Kuznetsov or an almighty explosion on the Goethe.

What had to be thirty seconds later, he was rewarded with an almighty blow on the Russian ship. What had to be the entire starboard side of the ship exploded outwards in flames and smoke. Well if that didn't let the Red's know they were here, Dönitz was at a lost for what would.

(OOC: I discussed this Hawaii bit with Gotengo before posting it. That's what took so long. Sorry for the wait. I wanted to put it up yesterday but had to wait for a reply from Gotengo about destroying the ship.)
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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Postby Gotengo » Wed Apr 05, 2017 5:52 am

Naval Station Pearl Harbor, Island of Oahu
Occupied Hawaiian Islands, People's World Union


Admiral Igor Rasilyevich, commander of the naval forces which had captured the Hawaiian Islands and now military commandant of said occupied territory, was not the kind of man who liked stagnation, which was exactly his definition of occupation duty. He would rather be out at sea fighting the Capilean Navy than stuck behind a desk here at Pearl Harbor. The more damage they could deal to the Capilean Navy, the better their odds looked when the German's finally tossed their hat in the ring and the Pacific and Atlantic were crawling with warships and U-boats. Many of his officers told him to relax and enjoy the peace that Hawaii offered; after all the enemy resistance hadn't been able to pull off anything major and most of the surrendered foes complied with the terms they agreed too. By all means Hawaii was a nice, calm, quiet post any officer would be glad to get.

That all changed when the Admiral Kuznetsov, outdated but still the pride of the Russian Fleet, erupted in fire and smoke. The flagship of the combined fleet at Hawaii had been anchored just offshore of Pearl Harbor, preparing to run drills on her ballistic missile launch system, which had recently been refitted with more modern systems, when the explosion took out the bridge tower and blew a massive gaping hole in her starboard hull. The entire aircraft cruiser was a lost cause now, no hope of salvaging her with those kinds of wounds; hell it was a miracle the twelve P-700 Granit Anti-Ship cruise missiles didn't detonate with the ship, ten of them had been fitted with 750 kg warheads but two of them carried 250 kt thermonuclear warheads. Some smart fellow most likely had deactivated the main warheads for the duration of the drills...though that same person was not likely alive now to know how many lives they had saved. If just the ten conventional warheads had detonated then it would be a blast powerful enough to essentially vaporize the already ruined warship and possibly damage the two escorting Type 45 Destroyers in the shockwave. Had either of the thermonuclear warheads, or worse both, detonated then it would have wiped out not just the ship and its escorts, but also Pearl Harbor and the towns surrounding the harbor.

Admiral Rasilyevich saw the blast from his office inside the former base commandant's headquarters on Ford Island. At first he though that something had gone horribly wrong during the missile drills so he got on the phone immediately to one of the Spetsnatz coastal watch posts setup along the coastal areas of Oahu. "What the hell happened out there?! What happened to the Kuznetsov?!" The reply he got was even more chilling. "Comrade Admiral, there was a loud bang like an artillery weapon being fired just before the Kuznetsov went up. It is possible the ship was destroyed by a form of naval artillery of some kind. Though only one shot was fired, meaning-" the Admiral hung up. He knew what it meant, it meant that someone out there had a very big gun that could destroy and entire ship in one shot. Had the Capilean's developed some new weapon and mounted it on a warship? But then, wouldn't the numerous observation stations across the Pacific have picked up a Capilean force en route to Hawaii? If it wasn't the Capilean's then that only left...

He got his answer less than a minute later when the phone rang. "Yes?" Then his fears were confirmed. "Comrade Admiral, we have picked up a large force of ships approaching the Hawaiian Islands. Visual observation confirms that the ships are flying the flag of the German Empire. We believe this force is responsible for the destruction of the-" once more the Admiral put his own foot forward by interrupting, loudly. "Get our ships out of their births and out on the water! Have our long-range artillery fire as soon as they have a target! And get our planes in the air!"

Klaxons began to sound across the island as the World Union forces sprang into action to defend their position. Already three Chinese Type 052D Destroyers were making their way in the direction of the German fleet to assess the strength of the enemy, backed up by a Chinese Sovremenny Guided Missile Destroyer. Meanwhile, two flights of Russian T-50 air superiority fighters and two flights of Chinese J-20 multirole fighters took off from Wheeler Air Base in the direction of the German fleet. These twenty-four aircraft were meant to bloody the German's a little bit and test how strong a force they had brought, even though these advanced fifth generation aircraft would be better suited waiting for the German's to get their own planes in the air and then knocking them down again. Rasilyevich wanted to give his enemy a tantalizingly irresistible target to bait them into acting too quickly.
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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Wed Apr 05, 2017 7:18 pm

Cabo


General Randolph Warlimont was brought back to the days when he'd served as a lowly field officer in the Capilean Civil War. This last, desperate charge was similar to something that his opponents in that war had attempted. The Capilean Communists, underequipped and barely trained, had ordered one of their antiquated cavalry divisions to charge an oncoming monarchist tank brigade. The result had been a slaughter; shells plowing through entire platoons and knocking them down like a house of cards; horses and men, gutted like fish, strewn about in the thousands across the field; and the endless waves of unstoppable panzers, crushing the wounded beneath their treads. It hadn't been a pleasant experience, even though Warlimont had been on the winning side. Now he knew what those cavalrymen had felt like.
Image
The late General Warlimont.

All around him the tide of Capilean soldiers was ebbing. These bold men, the cream of the crop when it came to bravado and loyalty, were charging down a narrow street- to their deaths. Communist soldiers had been lying low in the burnt-out husks of buildings all around them, and now they showed themselves, shooting directly into the exposed flank of the charging mass. And far before them lay the Communist lines, buried beneath mounds of rubble that served as makeshift barricades. Behind them, bold Reds were beginning to pop up, squeezing off potshots before ducking back down in the face of a hail of Capilean bullets.

The general, never stopping, raised his Glock pistol and took careful aim as yet another helmet bobbed above a smoking truck. The pistol bucked in his hands, and Randolph felt grim satisfaction as his target flew backward amidst a shower of his own blood. Yet even as he turned back again, raising his saber to urge his men forward, a burst of bullets came from the enemy lines. As in slow-motion, Warlimont saw the shells streaming towards him, and winced as three of the deadly bullets lurched into his stomach. Somehow, he found the strength to keep going, to will his feet forward despite the fresh wounds. Moments later yet another trio of shells slammed into his gut, making him stagger and gasp. Again, he scrambled back up and was charging again in seconds. It was strange; the pain seemed to have numbed, and no blood was spurting from his chest. Suddenly, Randolph remembered: The armor! Of course! Before the battle he had donned bullet-proof armor, which was light enough not to considerably slow him in the charge but sufficient to protect from most enemy rounds. As if he were a marathon runner who had just found his second wind, Warlimont let out an ear-piercing war cry, which was answered by a crescendo of yells from his men, and began sprinting forward, waving his saber wildly.

He brought his Glock to bear, firing rapidly until the chamber was empty, and then tossing the weapon aside. On the ground a few meters ahead he spotted a gilded pole, the tattered remnants of a proud Capilean flag hanging from it. Filled with determination and a fierce sense of patriotism, the old man forgot his aching joints and the bruises now spotting his chest; he bent while running and scooped up the flagpole with his empty hand, sweeping it back and forth and raising another wild cry from his men. Finally the general thrust both his saber and flag forward and continued the charge. They were getting close now. He could almost see the Communist soldiers behind their walls, quaking in their boots. He could certainly hear their frantic shouts. His grip on his saber tightened. "Für Thron und Reich!" Warlimont shouted, gritting his teeth as he began to close the distance.

Ahead an officer shouted a terse order in Russian, and instantly the enemy, who by now were all firing on the advancing horde of Capileans, switched their weapons to fully automatic. The effects were instantly visible. All around him, soldiers began to reel off from their comrades, clutching at fresh wounds. Some simply dropped where they had stood, dead. "A little lead hasn't stopped us before, has it, boys?" Randolph snarled; he was met with a hearty chorus of cheers from his men, and they all surged forward with an iron will. They were only about one hundred meters away, now.

A new sound caught Warlimont's attention. It wasn't the screams of a dying man, nor the wild holler of a half-dead soldier charging to his death. It wasn't the rattle of gunfire, or even the roar of a tank or the clank of one of those damned Communist machinations that had given his men so much trouble in the struggle for Cabo. No, it was a different kind of scream. A screech. And suddenly the general realized what he was hearing. "Mortars!" he yelled, a second too late. The first shell of the enemy's bombardment had already fallen. It tore a hole in the Capilean's right flank, felling a good many men instantly and sending dozens more flying away, mutilated. A second fell moments later, wreaking havoc on the Capilean lines. The smoke cleared, and miraculously Warlimont and most of his men were still there. But the officer could feel his men's willpower fraying.

"Onwards!" he barked, leading by example as he continued to rush forward, dirt-caked saber and ragged flag in hand. Just as the Stoßschutz men began to propel themselves forward again, a host of deafening roars broke out, and streams of bullets flew from the Communist lines. They have machine guns. This heavy weaponry ripped through what was left of the Capilean lines. With the prospect of certain death up ahead paired with fractured morale, the charge looked to be ebbing away. Warlimont looked frantically around, wiggling his saber. "Men! Men! To me!" he shouted above the din, ignoring the hail of bullets passing around him. Looking towards their commander, those men remembered their years of loyal service to the Duchy. They recalled how Warlimont had led them through thick and thin, overcoming insurmountable odds time and time again. They remembered the oath they had taken years before: To serve their country above all else.

"Huzzah!" they cried, forcing themselves forward in one last dazzling display of valiance. With their lionhearted commander at their head, the column of Capileans, the last defenders of Cabo, pushed onwards, even as the thundering machine guns defied them. Time and time again, as those guns pinned down the advancing column, their leader rallied them forward, brandishing his flag like a weapon. But the ranks of those gallant men were thinning. As General Warlimont, now soaked in blood and sweat, staggered forward, now just ten meters away from the enemy lines, raised his saber one last time, he realized something. As the smoke cleared, he realized that he was the last man standing. Behind him lay two hundred men, stiff in the dust. His saber lowered. Warlimont looked back towards his enemy, and was amazed to find that they were all standing, their guns lowered, staring in awe at him.

A single officer stepped forward, a pained look in his eyes. Warlimont realized that he was taking out his bayonet and fixing it to the end of his rifle. The general looked down and was surprised to see that blood was seeping from wounds in his legs and arms, and his body armor was riddled with shots. He looked up once again, to see the Communist slowly stepping towards him, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands. Warlimont's pulse was slow, his mouth dry. He brandished his tasseled saber once more, though it felt limp and slack in his hands. The officer whispered something that only he and Randolph could hear: "I'm sorry. You will not be forgotten."

Before Warlimont could register what had happened, the man had lifted his weapon high above his head and jabbed it into his chest- directly into his heart, in fact. Randolph's mouth fell open. He fell to his knees, his saber clattering to the ground beside him. The vanquished general stared up at his killer, locking eyes with him. Even now, a small smile played on the old man's lips. "An honorable death," he murmured. At this, General Randolph Warlimont's body slumped, fell loose from the bayonet, and crumpled to the ground, the last casualty of the battle of Cabo.


Paris


Wilhelm Eckels was far from the calm, collected figure he usually cut. No, today he was not placid at all. His face had turned a bright shade of red, a vein in his forehead throbbing violently. His eyes were bugging out of his head and sweeping the room at breakneck speed. His lampshade-shaped mustache was trembling, and every time he spoke spittle flew from his mouth as if it were being shot from a machine gun. His voice, silkily cordial at the beginning of this meeting, had turned hoarse and raspy. Being told to "open his eyes" by the German ambassador did not help this frightening countenance.

"Ambassador von Strohm," he hissed, turning a shade redder, "have you gone mad? The Reich or Capile alone could crush any array of nations thrown against them." He cast a dark glance at Kacharr. "Against both of us, the threats of this pitiful excuse for a 'World Union' are laughable!" By now he was yelling, his voice becoming increasingly croaky because of the great strain being placed upon it. Eckels now fixed his wide-eyed gaze on Kacharr. "If all you have called us here for is to issue your pathetic little ultimatum, I shall show myself out- and after the events of today, I can assure you that the Duchy will close its embassy with you. Good day, Secretary," he called, his face finally beginning to flush its unflattering color. With that, he stomped towards the entrance without looking back.


Applachian Redoubt


Max Riesch looked up at Klemm, a look of desperation contorting his face. He hadn't heard much of what the German was saying; he'd been more focused on the gut-wrenching sounds coming from outside of the train. At the moment, he heard a definite crash of metal, and sprang once more to his feet. He was about to shout for someone to do something, anything, when the train passed a floodlight and seven figures were illuminated through the thick plexiglass window. Riesch blanched.

Six of the seven figures racing alongside the train- keeping pace with it, frighteningly- were clearly robotic. They had vaguely humanoid bodies, but long, spidery fingers(which Max thought looked suspiciously like blades) and faces that might have resembled the Grim Reaper's death mask. But the form that caught Max's attention was the seventh, a hulking silhouette which took the appearance of one colossal set of Columbian power armor, gleaming gold underneath the floodlight. But in an instant they had disappeared into the blackness, and Riesch was snapped back to the present by Titus' bellows. "Everyone, get to the forward cars!"

By the sound of screeching metal, the train was being breached, meaning that the Colonel-General was eager to follow the High King's orders. He scrambled towards the electronic door at the far end of the car, which slid open. He turned to help a ghostly white Samantha into the next car, whispering something reassuring into her ear as she passed, before moving in himself. They continued in this way, hearing nerve-racking screaming behind them, until they had reached the carriage directly behind the engine. The screaming was a lot closer now. Max slowly wheeled around, standing in front of Samantha in an attempt at courage. What he saw erased his faux bravado at once.

A Columbian soldier was frantically banging on the door, screaming- tearfully, Max noticed- for them to let him in. Riesch's stomach lurched, but he did not move. That turned out to be wise, as a moment later a red-hot blade impaled the trooper- and the door. The screaming intensified as the flaming sword was pulled out, but then was silenced at once as the massive foot of an even larger set of power armor came down on the door and the soldier. The foot must have weighed several tons, for as it pounded down on the floor of the train it plowed through the protective armor of the trooper and flattened his spine, sending the severed and bloody upper half of the man sprawling forward into the car. Max felt as if he might throw up.

"Are you ready to meet your master in the lake of eternal flame?" a husky voice called from under the gilded helmet of the power-armored foe that stood before them. Before Max could think a trio of black-suited Secret Service agents, earpieces buzzing with static, leapt forward from their positions beside the door of the car, already letting loose with a volley of bullets. Their efforts were futile. The lead bounced off of the heavy armor of this giant, and with a single sweeping movement with his fiery blade, he had bisected the three agents- and cut through the final line of security protecting the High King.

Max saw, out of the corner of his eye, one of the serviceman's pistols fly in an arc through the air, before clattering onto a chair beside him. Before he could think Max snatched it and leveled it with the optical sensor on the helmet. Maybe if I can hit in just the right place, Max thought, surprised by his own courage. When he had aligned the shot perfectly, he squeezed it off, and hoped to God that he did some damage to this leviathan.


Wheeler Air Force Base


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Wheeler Air Force Base.

General Rolf Hoß was sitting in his office, listening to the clock tick and sipping some brandy as he poured over the latest reports. So far, the Communist occupation of Hawaii had not gone smoothly. At least one sixth of the Capilean and Columbian troops had gone AWOL, and fed by the sympathetic and staunchly anti-Communist citizens of the islands, were wreaking havoc on communications and supply lines. This had caused a lot of tension between Rolf and his new Red superiors, tension that was most unwelcome. Hoß was just beginning to drown these sentiments with the last of his brandy when the door swung open and Major Kütt, his adjutant, walked in, looking very smug.

Hoß quickly set down his glass and analyzed the Major's expression. "What is it, Joachim?" he asked gruffly, turning back to his reports in apparent disinterest.

"General- or should I say, Governor-General- the Germans are laying siege to Hawaii," Joachim Kütt announced bluntly, thrusting a report by one of the Capilean field officers into Hoß' face. The General snatched the report and read it several times through.

"Order our forces to reconvene here at Wheeler," he said quietly.

"Why, sir?" Kütt inquired curiously.

"It's a dangerous time for our forces to be about. We want them here at the base, where their allegiances won't be called in to question."

"Very well, sir." Rolf sighed heavily as Kütt left his office. The next few hours might decide the fate of his command.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

The Wanderer

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New Decius
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Decius » Thu Apr 13, 2017 5:28 am

Schloss Homburg, Nümbrecht
Nordrhein-Westfalen, Kingdom of Westphalia
Two days ago


Since her divergence of political belief at age seventeen, Princess Ilsa Gotha Stadtfeld di Germania, the Kaiser's first daughter and Germany's first Princess, had been residing at Homburg Castle. The now thirty-three year old German Royal had not been allowed to return to the Imperial residence at Neuschwanstein since she once declared to her father she considered Hitler to have been a patriot. The residence quickly became the unofficial headquarters of the former National Democratic Party of Germany, now the DHP (Deutsche Heimpartei), the sole, yet powerful, neo-fascist nationalist group in the German Empire. And it was from here that the Princess had launched her soft coup.

Well the Emergency Committee system wasn't working out well enough for certain members of the German military. Here they had a chance to eliminate the radical elements of German politics and the Acting Chancellor wouldn't give them clearance. So they went ahead anyway.

It was a cool night that saw several black Mercedes-Benz Zetros trucks marked with the Balkenkreuz of the Kaiserliche Armee pull up to Homburg Castle. A couple of the infamous 'stormtroopers' of the DHP were on watch outside and started for the door. Each of them fell dead by silenced shots. Over two dozen soldiers stormed the building and began rounding up everyone inside.


Kaiserliche Außenministerium, Berlin
Kingdom of Prussia, German Empire
Germany Proper
Present


Once again Graf von Stromberg found himself in the office of Außenminister Arno Jost...only Arno Jost was not here this time. Instead of the aged foreign minister with whom the Capilean had worked with since the formal opening of relations between Germany and Capile, a military man was in his place. A man of about fifty in the uniform of an Admiral in the Kaiserliche Marine sat where Jost normally would have with an iron visage instead of Jost's usual smiling features. "Greetings Ambassador, I am Admiral Erich Horst, temporary Head of the Foreign Office by order of the Emergency Committee for the Preservation of Order. You are probably wondering where Herr Jost has gone." He closed his eyes and folded his hands together. The news he was about to deliver was apparently of great trauma to himself. "I am sorry to say that His Excellency, Außenminister Arno Jost died late last night. It was discovered that he had been poisoned by agents acting on behalf of the DHP, the Deutsche Heimpartei, the right-wing political group run by Her former Highness, Princess Ilsa Gotha Stadtfeld di Germania. Every effort was made to save his life, however given his age and the lethality of the poison used, he eventually died in hospital." The Admiral stood up and walked around Jost's-No, around his desk to stand face-to-face with von Stromberg. "Unfortunately, Herr Jost was not the only government official struck down by these vile assassin's. Also struck down were the Finanzminister (Finance Minister), Arbeitsminister (Labor Minister), Heimsekretärin (Home Secretary), and the Bürgermeister of Berlin. Even worse is that His Excellency, Reichspräsident Gauck died several hours ago on the operating table." Now there would be a confusing point for the Ambassador. In the last meeting with Jost, he had been told that the Reichspräsident was likely to survive the minor stroke he had suffered.

Horst was not finished. "Given these recent events, along with further examination by doctors of not only the Kaiserliche Armee but also the Imperial families private medical service, the Abwehr has chosen to operate under the theory that the Kaiser's heart attack was artificially induced by other agents of the same. Following this we operate under the hypothesis that the Chancellor's plane was shot down by Luftwaffe pilots whose allegiances shifted. With this evidence, and the threat of further action, possibly against the members of the Emergency Committee, the Oberkommando des Heeres has declared a state of emergency and shall assume immediate control of the government until the crisis has passed." In short, the Admiral had just told the Capilean that the German military had seized power, using the current crisis as its catalyst. "Her former Highness, has been arrested by military authorities and all known members of the DHP are also being rounded up. Anyone found trying to assist these subversives in fleeing the country will be charged equally. Therefore I felt it necessary to request that you convey this message to all your staff at the embassy and any Capilean citizens currently in the Reich. Regardless if they are foreign national's, this is a matter of state security and if they are found to be helping these terrorist's, they shall be treated in kind as if they were a German citizen assisting the DHP." In other words, the now deposed Princess whom formerly headed up the DHP was either imprisoned in some camp, dead, or at some black site or other. And any members of said organization were either being shot on sight or tossed into a camp. The same fate might possibly also be befalling all those who objected to the current state of affairs; Socialist's, Liberal's, Conservative's, the Aristocracy, etc. A military coup without a single shot fired.

Now Horst got down to the diplomacy of the matter. "Graf von Stromberg, despite the current state of affairs within the Reich, it is my duty to inform you that we will not forget our commitment to our allies. In fact, we shall be increasing our troop commitment to the Columbian Front by a quarter of a million troops within a month if all goes according to plan. Additionally two further War Frame Regiments are at present be prepped for transport to our staging areas at New York and Norfolk. If all goes well, before long the fascists in Eastern Columbia will be crushed swiftly and finally."

Now was a moment for von Stromberg to speak his piece if he wished...
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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New United States of Columbia
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Founded: Jul 17, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby New United States of Columbia » Mon Apr 17, 2017 5:46 pm

Aboard the train


Juvon held Abigale behind him, and created a tiny flare. "Well, I would," he moved the flare towards the false Foley, "But I hear He is more of a tropical island kind of person," pointing at the flare, it burst into a large explosion, rocking the cars. He shielded the others from the blast, this being fire magic he was naturally immune to its effects.
However, the young Fire Draconid was not naive enough to believe that this would stop this monster outright. He summoned a handful of blades made out of energy, "Here, Titus, take one," his own sword was a claymore in size, but he was able to hold it in one hand. "And anyone else who wishes to defend themselves may, but please be careful." He didn't know what he was more afraid of: the fake Foley, or the fact that for a pacifist he was really holding his own in a fight...

Foley snarled as he once again shielded himself from the fiery explosion. The cars of the train buckled and rocked violently, causing the passengers to cower or yelp in terror, afraid they'd possibly derail. Juvon's shield kept the robots from entering through the entrance that the "false Foley" entered from, causing their mechanical minds to think quickly of another possible entrance.
While that was going on Foley had gotten back on his feet and glared at the Draconid from under his helmet.
"You damn fool!" the former Monarch shouted angrily, his robotic voice sounding as if he had gargled on nails and bullets earlier "You do not know the power of God! He made this whole world in six days, protected and blessed the early settlers of these lands, and yet you continue to make a mockery of him! He is long suffering but his patience is running low. And if your kind had not committed such crimes against his Holy Writ he would not have sent a punishment like I upon you!"
Before he could do or say anything else a gunshot rang out and hit the right eye piece of the gilded helmet. For a moment all remained silent and motionless, the only sounds being the train continuing to head to Cheyenne and the sounds of the occupants breathing and the slight whirs coming from Foley's power armor and body. Then, slowly, Foley turned his attention to Max who had fired the gun. Foley said nothing as he quickly raised his red hot blade and swung it, ready to smash the blade into Max's Capilean skull before another blade intercepted him and stopped him a foot from the man. Foley looked and saw it was Titus who held one of Juvon's energy blades.
"You!?" Foley roared in confusion.
"I told you before I will never join you since you're trying to drag us into a war with our own allies!"
As the monster took a step back and prepared to engage his own kin Titus ordered Klemm to order the mechs to get to Cheyenne as fast as possible.

Foley soon stepped back as it appeared he entered a two-on-one sword fight with the Draconid and the High King. The three had barely enough room to engage with Titus using the side tables and chairs to gain some height while Juvon acted as the main target for the Beast of Saint Anthony. While that was going on screeching could be heard as Samantha cowed behind Riesch. The sound of metal tearing and the whirs of machinery indicated the Royal Guard had arrived on the cars' roof and were breeching, hoping to get inside and assist in killing the HVT (Juvon). As that was going on gunshots could be heard as Max and Klemm attempted to engage the robots, with mixed results depending on where their bullets hit.
"What are you buckets of bolts waiting for!?" Paul shouted angrily as he and Juvon clashed swords together, with the two of them now locked in a struggle of raw strength to see who could push who's blade hard enough to try and disarm the opponent "Get down here and kill this beast!"

Wheeler Air Force Base


Image
The interior of a Captured Columbian Supply Depot used by World Union occupiers

The early morning sky was soon illuminated by both the sun and the burning remains of the Admiral Kuzentsov. As the black smoke of death soared into the sky in a column, the men guarding the captured Supply Depot went about their day as usual. The World Union troopers and "traitor" troops from the Columbian and Capilean armies patrolled the grounds as they usually did for the past few months: Wake up at five, drill five-thirty, eat, get taught the tenants and subtitles of Marxist-Leninist thought, then be assigned their duties. Some tended the weapons and ammunition cache found in the base, others got into jeeps and trucks and manned checkpoints near the depot and made sure the surrounding towns and villages knew better than to interfere with official business, others were assigned to squads and checked out the local jungles and forests to make sure no "rogue" forces or civilian resistance were nearby. Today, however, was not going to be their lucky day.

Former Marine Sergeant Jason Burke whipped the sweat from his forehead as he drove the supply truck forward. He checked his driver side mirror and found more supply trucks following him. He and the Capilean officer from one of the local resistance cells had been planning this raid for weeks on end. They'd send out scouts who'd return with information on the various guards of the depot, their patrol patterns, daily schedule, scheduled deliveries of weapons and ammo to the occupying forces to be sent to supply ships that'd take them to the mainland, and so on. Eventually they were able to forge paperwork claiming they were to take a dozen or so crates of laser rifles and combat armor to be shipped to World Union forces in California to arm the local populace in the fight against the Loyalist troops. Burke looked nervously at his Capilean counterpart, the germanic man looking more confident than the Columbian felt.
"What if something goes wrong?" The Columbian asked, terror in his voice "I mean this is our one chance to get arms to the populace to stage an uprising but..."
Eventually the Capilean shut him up and told him to stay focused on their objective. They were, after all, rapidly approaching the depot.
One of the massive warehouse doors opened and revealed a squad or two of men inside, dozens of crates and boxes living the walls and filling up seemingly every shelf in the room. They backed their trucks up to the elevated floor and soon the two leaders hopped out of the trucks and approached the officer, paperwork in hand and uniforms on showing signs of wear and tear.
"Orders from the General," Burke said sharply, handing the paperwork to the WU officer "orders are to deliver a bunch of weapons and armor to Port Oahu to be shipped to our comrades in California."
As the stern man looked at the orders Burke silently prayed he'd buy the story.

New York City



Image
The Tower now under assault from a Verti Assault Team

The power armored clad New Unionist troops began to fight their way through the observation center, their energy weapons tearing through the regular German soldiers they ran across. As they began to slowly fight their way down they received regular updates regarding the assault on the rotten apple. They weren't good. Early momentum and shock was quickly being replaced by stiff resistance and this resistance was being coordinated. They were being ordered to now simply looked for officers and any communication equipment. Knock those out, kill the officers, and get the hell outta there so they can assist in the assault on the Memorial Hospital.
"Onyx 1-1 Actual acknowledges." the Lieutenant of the team replied to Base Plate once they received their updated orders. As soon as he finished the door to the room they were currently in burst open and more Germans flooded into the room, this time with armor piercing weapons and, to their surprise, a few rocket launchers.
"Fire and fall back!" The Lieutenant ordered as he fired his Gatling Laser at the incoming tidal wave of Europeans, his heavy armored boots clanking on the concrete floor. The roar of multiple assault rifles, submachine guns, and light machine guns drowned out any other noise in the room. The four power armored commandos continued to fight, their laser and plasma weaponry giving them an edge over the Germans. But as they resumed their slow fight downward their cells powering their heavy guns began to grow weaker and their number of shots was growing smaller.
"We better hurry the hell up," one of the Commandos commented angrily as he checked his Plasma Cannon to make sure he wasn't misreading how few shots he had (less than fifteen) "or we'd have better luck recommending to Base Plate they simply sic a few Vertis on this damn building!"

Abwehr Headquarters, Berlin


Rudolph Sawatzki's green-grey eyes scanned what little information the Abwehr had on this... this damn monster! He could feel the cool breeze of a nice spring afternoon in Berlin flow through the open window of his office, lightly tossing around a few loose papers on his desk and coffee table. He wasn't paying mind to that or the sounds of activity out in the hall, figuring it was just a usual checkup by the heads of the Abwehr, an organization he was part of. This thing was potentially more powerful than Subject Alfa, claims to being the True King, said to being capable of destroying an entire kampfgruppe on it's own. Whoever had this weapon must be very powerful and have a fair bit of technology and scientists on their side. But, if the Loyalists had such a weapon, why was it attacking them? Surely they'd have solved that problem the Deathclaws had. They had figured out a way to control them with NeuroDamp Implants. So why was this backfiring? Was it rushed into production? He didn't know and neither did the Abwehr, by what he was reading.
"Damn," he muttered softly as he returned the intel into his brown leather briefcase, along with the plans for the Army Groups in Columbia and information regarding known plans by the New Union, before he got up and shut it "and here I thought I had another gold mine... Langley's gonna be disappointed."
As he was doing so the man couldn't help but feel a growing suspicion that something wasn't adding up. Sure he'd been in Germany and the Abwehr for, what, fifteen years and had gained a decent rank in its intelligence handling circles. Sure he'd bribed, blackmailed, and murdered his way to getting some of these classified plans and reports. Sure he'd made sure to cover his tracks and make sure no one knew he was really Edward Stimson, Central Intelligence Bureau operative. But something felt off to him. There were more and more guards and talks throughout Berlin were going on about something like a power struggle going on in the Imperial Government. Stimson thought it must be nothing. He grabbed his briefcase, put on his hat, and left the office, hoping he could find his contact at the international airport. He had to get out of Germania quick. What info he had could change the course of the war.

California, Socialist Republic of Columbia


Image
The former Governor's Palace turned Governor-General's Mansion

Stahl listened as Homes and Zubek gave their information regarding the battle plan and the current situation. He still felt worried about the New Union assaults, feeling like it'd either indicate they were getting stronger if they could successfully take on the Reich or just do nothing more than piss the Prussian Eagle off and make the Germans redouble their efforts in Columbia. Regardless the Premier listened to his comrades and soon was handed a pre produced speech by Zubek. He looked it over before looking up at the NKVD operative.
"I'll see what I can do." He said simply.
He was about to turn and leave when he thought of something.
"What about the Loyalists up north? In Washington and Oregon I mean. You don't suppose you could spare a few infantry regiments to take care of them?"
Last edited by New United States of Columbia on Thu Apr 20, 2017 10:44 am, edited 6 times in total.
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Gotengo
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Ex-Nation

Postby Gotengo » Fri Apr 21, 2017 6:29 pm

New United States of Columbia wrote:Aboard the train


Juvon held Abigale behind him, and created a tiny flare. "Well, I would," he moved the flare towards the false Foley, "But I hear He is more of a tropical island kind of person," pointing at the flare, it burst into a large explosion, rocking the cars. He shielded the others from the blast, this being fire magic he was naturally immune to its effects.
However, the young Fire Draconid was not naive enough to believe that this would stop this monster outright. He summoned a handful of blades made out of energy, "Here, Titus, take one," his own sword was a claymore in size, but he was able to hold it in one hand. "And anyone else who wishes to defend themselves may, but please be careful." He didn't know what he was more afraid of: the fake Foley, or the fact that for a pacifist he was really holding his own in a fight...

Foley snarled as he once again shielded himself from the fiery explosion. The cars of the train buckled and rocked violently, causing the passengers to cower or yelp in terror, afraid they'd possibly derail. Juvon's shield kept the robots from entering through the entrance that the "false Foley" entered from, causing their mechanical minds to think quickly of another possible entrance.
While that was going on Foley had gotten back on his feet and glared at the Draconid from under his helmet.
"You damn fool!" the former Monarch shouted angrily, his robotic voice sounding as if he had gargled on nails and bullets earlier "You do not know the power of God! He made this whole world in six days, protected and blessed the early settlers of these lands, and yet you continue to make a mockery of him! He is long suffering but his patience is running low. And if your kind had not committed such crimes against his Holy Writ he would not have sent a punishment like I upon you!"
Before he could do or say anything else a gunshot rang out and hit the right eye piece of the gilded helmet. For a moment all remained silent and motionless, the only sounds being the train continuing to head to Cheyenne and the sounds of the occupants breathing and the slight whirs coming from Foley's power armor and body. Then, slowly, Foley turned his attention to Max who had fired the gun. Foley said nothing as he quickly raised his red hot blade and swung it, ready to smash the blade into Max's Capilean skull before another blade intercepted him and stopped him a foot from the man. Foley looked and saw it was Titus who held one of Juvon's energy blades.
"You!?" Foley roared in confusion.
"I told you before I will never join you since you're trying to drag us into a war with our own allies!"
As the monster took a step back and prepared to engage his own kin Titus ordered Klemm to order the mechs to get to Cheyenne as fast as possible.

Foley soon stepped back as it appeared he entered a two-on-one sword fight with the Draconid and the High King. The three had barely enough room to engage with Titus using the side tables and chairs to gain some height while Juvon acted as the main target for the Beast of Saint Anthony. While that was going on screeching could be heard as Samantha cowed behind Riesch. The sound of metal tearing and the whirs of machinery indicated the Royal Guard had arrived on the cars' roof and were breeching, hoping to get inside and assist in killing the HVT (Juvon). As that was going on gunshots could be heard as Max and Klemm attempted to engage the robots, with mixed results depending on where their bullets hit.
"What are you buckets of bolts waiting for!?" Paul shouted angrily as he and Juvon clashed swords together, with the two of them now locked in a struggle of raw strength to see who could push who's blade hard enough to try and disarm the opponent "Get down here and kill this beast!"

Wheeler Air Force Base


(Image)
The interior of a Captured Columbian Supply Depot used by World Union occupiers

The early morning sky was soon illuminated by both the sun and the burning remains of the Admiral Kuzentsov. As the black smoke of death soared into the sky in a column, the men guarding the captured Supply Depot went about their day as usual. The World Union troopers and "traitor" troops from the Columbian and Capilean armies patrolled the grounds as they usually did for the past few months: Wake up at five, drill five-thirty, eat, get taught the tenants and subtitles of Marxist-Leninist thought, then be assigned their duties. Some tended the weapons and ammunition cache found in the base, others got into jeeps and trucks and manned checkpoints near the depot and made sure the surrounding towns and villages knew better than to interfere with official business, others were assigned to squads and checked out the local jungles and forests to make sure no "rogue" forces or civilian resistance were nearby. Today, however, was not going to be their lucky day.

Former Marine Sergeant Jason Burke whipped the sweat from his forehead as he drove the supply truck forward. He checked his driver side mirror and found more supply trucks following him. He and the Capilean officer from one of the local resistance cells had been planning this raid for weeks on end. They'd send out scouts who'd return with information on the various guards of the depot, their patrol patterns, daily schedule, scheduled deliveries of weapons and ammo to the occupying forces to be sent to supply ships that'd take them to the mainland, and so on. Eventually they were able to forge paperwork claiming they were to take a dozen or so crates of laser rifles and combat armor to be shipped to World Union forces in California to arm the local populace in the fight against the Loyalist troops. Burke looked nervously at his Capilean counterpart, the germanic man looking more confident than the Columbian felt.
"What if something goes wrong?" The Columbian asked, terror in his voice "I mean this is our one chance to get arms to the populace to stage an uprising but..."
Eventually the Capilean shut him up and told him to stay focused on their objective. They were, after all, rapidly approaching the depot.
One of the massive warehouse doors opened and revealed a squad or two of men inside, dozens of crates and boxes living the walls and filling up seemingly every shelf in the room. They backed their trucks up to the elevated floor and soon the two leaders hopped out of the trucks and approached the officer, paperwork in hand and uniforms on showing signs of wear and tear.
"Orders from the General," Burke said sharply, handing the paperwork to the WU officer "orders are to deliver a bunch of weapons and armor to Port Oahu to be shipped to our comrades in California."
As the stern man looked at the orders Burke silently prayed he'd buy the story.

New York City



(Image)
The Tower now under assault from a Verti Assault Team

The power armored clad New Unionist troops began to fight their way through the observation center, their energy weapons tearing through the regular German soldiers they ran across. As they began to slowly fight their way down they received regular updates regarding the assault on the rotten apple. They weren't good. Early momentum and shock was quickly being replaced by stiff resistance and this resistance was being coordinated. They were being ordered to now simply looked for officers and any communication equipment. Knock those out, kill the officers, and get the hell outta there so they can assist in the assault on the Memorial Hospital.
"Onyx 1-1 Actual acknowledges." the Lieutenant of the team replied to Base Plate once they received their updated orders. As soon as he finished the door to the room they were currently in burst open and more Germans flooded into the room, this time with armor piercing weapons and, to their surprise, a few rocket launchers.
"Fire and fall back!" The Lieutenant ordered as he fired his Gatling Laser at the incoming tidal wave of Europeans, his heavy armored boots clanking on the concrete floor. The roar of multiple assault rifles, submachine guns, and light machine guns drowned out any other noise in the room. The four power armored commandos continued to fight, their laser and plasma weaponry giving them an edge over the Germans. But as they resumed their slow fight downward their cells powering their heavy guns began to grow weaker and their number of shots was growing smaller.
"We better hurry the hell up," one of the Commandos commented angrily as he checked his Plasma Cannon to make sure he wasn't misreading how few shots he had (less than fifteen) "or we'd have better luck recommending to Base Plate they simply sic a few Vertis on this damn building!"

Kaiserliche Außenministerium, Berlin


Rudolph Sawatzki's green-grey eyes scanned what little information the Abwehr had on this... this damn monster! He could feel the cool breeze of a nice spring afternoon in Berlin flow through the open window of his office, lightly tossing around a few loose papers on his desk and coffee table. He wasn't paying mind to that or the sounds of activity out in the hall, figuring it was just a usual checkup by the heads of the Abwehr, an organization he was part of. This thing was more powerful than Subject Alfa, claims to being the True King, said to being capable of destroying entire kampfgruppe on it's own. Whoever had this weapon must be very powerful and have a fair bit of technology and scientists on their side. But, if the Loyalists had such a weapon, why was it attacking them? Surely they'd have solved that problem the Deathclaws had. They had figured out a way to control them with NeuroDamp Helmets. So why was this backfiring? Was it rushed into production? He did't know and neither did the Abwehr.
"Damn," he muttered softly as he returned the intel into his brown leather briefcase, along with the plans for the Army Groups in Columbia and information regarding known plans by the New Union, before he got up and shut it "and here I thought I had a gold mine... Langley's not gonna be happy."
As he was doing so the man couldn't help but feel a growing suspicion that something wasn't adding up. Sure he'd been in Germany and the Abwehr for, what, fifteen years and had gained a decent rank in it's intelligence handling circles. Sure he'd bribed, blackmailed, and murdered his way to getting some of these classified plans and reports. Sure he'd made sure to cover his tracks and make sure no one knew he was really Edward Stimson, Central Intelligence Bureau operative. But something felt off to him. There were more and more guards and talks throughout Berlin were going on about something like a power struggle going on in the Imperial Government. Stimson thought it must be nothing. He grabbed his briefcase, put on his hat, and left the office, hoping he could find his contact at the international airport. He had to get out of Germania quick. What info he had could change the course of the war.

California, Socialist Republic of Columbia


(Image)
The former Governor's Palace turned Governor-General's Mansion

Stahl listened as Homes and Zubek gave their information regarding the battle plan and the current situation. He still felt worried about the New Union assaults, feeling like it'd either indicate they were getting stronger if they could successfully take on the Reich or just do nothing more than piss the Prussian Eagle off and make the Germans redouble their efforts in Columbia. Regardless the Premier listened to his comrades and soon was handed a pre produced speech by Zubek. He looked it over before looking up at the NKVD operative.
"I'll see what I can do." He said simply.
He was about to turn and leave when he thought of something.
"What about the Loyalists up north? In Washington and Oregon I mean. You don't suppose you could spare a few infantry regiments to take care of them?"


San Francisco, California
Socialist Republic of Columbia


Brigadier General Homes shrugged his shoulders. "Comrade General Secretary, we must focus all our ground troops on resisting the Loyalist forces in California already. Besides pummeling them with airstrikes and warship launched cruise missiles, there is not much we can do up North. We can hold them up but our main efforts must be concentrated to the South and East." Just then his office phone rang and he answered immediately. "Yes? I see. Good, get moving North as soon as you can Comrade. If we can hit the enemy in his rear we can regain the advantage." Upon hanging up he was in a much more jovial mood. "Comrade's, that was General Shoygu of the First Columbian Front in Mexico. Operation Golden Remorse was a total success. Northern Mexico and Sonora are under Communist control and the Capilean position at Cabo has been destroyed. Shoygu will shortly be receiving reinforcements from Brazil and Spain to launch an effort to retake San Diego." He held up a hand and dialed a number.

As soon as the phone picked up, he said but two words. "Red Tide." Then hung up. "Comrades I am afraid for reasons of security I must ask that you all leave the room while I confer with my staff." The door opened and several officers entered the room, all of them a different nationality as shown by their uniforms. One officer was French, another Chinese, one Russian, and one Spanish. The aide outside escorted Zubek and Stahl out of the room. Outside Zubek turned to the leader of the SRC with a stoic expression. "Comrade Stahl, the NKVD has setup an emergency government center for you at the Hilton Hotel in Union Square, there is a car outside waiting to take you to it. I must tend to other matters."

Meanwhile back inside the office, major happenings were going on. Now that the Southern Front was secure, counter-strike Operation Red Tide could go active. It involved a coordinated series of airstrikes on Loyalist and Capilean positions all along the West Coast, ranging in magnitude from strafing runs by Su-27's to bombing runs by Tu-95's. Additionally, three ballistic missile submarines were on standby in the Pacific to launch cruise missile strikes against no less than twelve locations including the enemies suspected headquarters in the Thousand Oaks area. As a cherry on top of this desert, the four Iowa-Class Battleships used by the United States in the Second World War and maintained ever since, had been sent across the Pacific from Hawaii and would bombard the enemy fleet and facilities at Port Hueneme. Though the ships were likely to only get a few volley's off before being destroyed, even a few would be enough to severely hinder the abilities of the port to bring troops and supplies in.

The operation would begin as soon as Stahl made his announcement regarding the nuclear strike.

Wheeler Air Force Base

Before the guards could let the trucks pass, alarms began ringing throughout the base and loudspeakers blared recorded messages telling all pilots to get to their planes. Both guards looked at the trucks and then the commotion before deciding to throw caution to the wind. The lead guard just tossed the clipboard aside and waved them in. "Well come on then you bastards! Get those supplies in here! We need em to wipe out those German's!"

The truck convoy was thus allowed to pass through the gates...
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New Decius
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Decius » Tue Apr 25, 2017 7:47 am

Flughafen Tegel, Berlin
Kingdom of Prussia, German Empire
Confederation of German States


As Rudolph Sawatzki arrived at Flughafen Tegel, Berlin's main airport, he found quite the sight awaiting him. Just inside the lobby of the airport four men were being manhandled to the ground by grey-uniformed soldiers of the Kaiserliche Armee, while several members of the Abwehr spoke to another man at the Custom's Station. By spoke, it meant these officers were beating the man with batons despite the airport being full of civilians to see this happening. As Rudolph approached, it would be to his horror that the man they were beating was his contact. As all this was happening, an Oberst in the Kaiserliche Armee was slowly pacing the scene. "By the order of Generalfeldmarschall Josef Halder of the Emergency Committee, all military and security forces are granted the authority to punish any and all persons found to be traitors to the Empire in a manner they see fit. These men were spies for a foreign power, seeking to do great harm to our beloved Fatherland. Thus their lives are forfeit." As he spoke, the soldiers had secured the four men on the ground and drawn their sidearms. "End these treasonous dogs." A thunder as four guns fired, and four lives ended.

By this time Rudolph was beyond the Custom's Station, headed for the gate to Terminal H47 for a flight to Italian Martinique. However, the bloody and dying man who had been his contact, in an attempt to save his own neck, raised his hand and pointed beyond the Custom's area but not directly to Rudolph. One of the officers then shot him in the head and the three were off, pushing through the crowd and checking papers. About a dozen soldiers followed them doing the same. Several gunshots sounded behind Rudolph, signaling they had found more 'traitors'. He was almost to the plane, he had entered the forum for Royal Italian Airways, when disaster struck...

Far behind him came a voice of another Abwehr officer. "Sawatzki's! He's taken some of the Werwolf files! Find him!" Now the search was more frantic as Rudolph was deep into the Royal Italian Airways area. He was granted a saving grace when a group of Italian soldiers barred the German soldiers from entering the area with weaponry. That gave Sawatzki the time he needed to get to the gate and board the plane.

Just as the Colonel got to the gate, the plane was rising high into the sky. The military man growled as he drew his sidearm and promptly shot the leading Abwehr man in the head. "You bunglers let him get away with information on one of our most secret projects! We'll see what Field Marshal Halder has to say about this."

Underground Metro

Klemm ducked back behind some seats to relay the message to the dropship. "Yes, that's right. Heavy assault weaponry necessary and make sure your there!" Then before he could go any further another message came through and Klemm was given orders to standby. Standby? As hell was raging in a train car around him? Hilarious.

"Oberfuhrer Klemm, this is Generalfeldmarschall Josef Halder, Chief of the Army General's Staff. Once the current crisis has passed, you are to inform High King Titus that we are conducting a special operation to end the siege of New York City. This special operation may be in high risk to the entire New England area due to method of deployment so we advise that he inform all assets in the area to be watchful for falling debris coming down from the atmosphere, debris possibly as large as a small bus. That is all."

This confused the man greatly. Falling debris? Well he would relay the message if this hell train ever stopped.

New York City

By now, with the battle having raged for about eighteen hours, the defenders had been pushed back to a sparse few bastions left in the city. New York Metropolitan Hospital was still being held by a group of exhausted but determined defenders, surrounded and so unable to be evacuated of its patients and staff. Central Park was a massive battleground of what one could call guerrilla warfare as the German-Italian forces made themselves enough of a nuisance so as to keep enemy troops tied down but they wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. And of course, the harbor area was a safe zone where civilians had been evacuated too and where the guns of the fleet kept them protected.

Felix Baum, War Corespondent, was crouching behind a wall as around him German soldiers fired down the hall at New Unionist troops. The first floor of the Metropolitan Hospital had fallen and now they were advancing on the second, but the 306 defenders were putting up quite the fight. "Panzerfaust!" One of the officers called and a man ran up and fired a Panzerfaust 3 down the hallway at the enemy. The rocket grenade blew away several Power Armor troops but more were coming in from behind them. It seemed like the end was near.

Then the shooting stopped, everyone had stopped shooting and looked up; a massive drone like airplane engines was currently sounding across the city...




Just outside the Metropolitan Hospital, a mechanical figure dropped down in front of the building, killing seven enemy troops in landing. For a moment the smoke obscured the figure, then it rose up to reveal...a German War Frame. The green-gray-brown camouflage identified it as one attached to a Fallschirmjäger (Paratroop) unit. The battle rifle came up and the mech started blazing away, the high velocity shells punching right through the Power Armor wearing troops while the laser rounds fired at the unit rebounded off. Another mech dropped down a little ways up the street and two more a block over. Following them were several drop-pods which landed outside the hospital and out of which soldiers in the same camouflage as the War Frame's deployed. Each pod held twelve soldiers and these men rushed inside the first floor of the Hospital.

Across the city, the 109. Fallschirmjäger Division deployed from seven dropships hovering high above the city. The Division was made up by 10,000 troops and 120 War Frame's giving them a lot to work with. Some squads of troops used wing suits to land on rooftops where the New Unionist's had squads with AA rockets. 35 of the unit's War Frame contingent were dropped into Central Park to relieve the tired troops battling it out there. All ten thousand troops couldn't be deployed immediately, but within the first half hour approximately 1,500 were along with 50 War Frame's.

Also arriving were an Italian Arditi Brigade. These were special shock troops whose purpose was to hit heavily guarded positions hard and fast to knock them out. 4,000 Italian troops deploying from low-flying VTOL gunships right on top of New Unionist positions including the squares and plaza's in which their artillery batteries were located.

Now the tide would begin to turn.

Operation: Adler, Pazifikflotte
Occupied Hawaiian Islands


Admiral Dönitz and the senior officer aboard the SMS Günther von Kluge, Kapitän zur See Oscar Germar, watched with what could only be called satisfaction and a little bit of glee as the Admiral Kuznetsov went up like fireworks over Berlin on the Sedantag. This was marvelous! Not to mention that the SMS Goethe hadn't been damaged at all by any malfunction in its EM Railgun's. Dönitz felt like telling Germar to go get the bottle of schnapps he had in his office for a victory toast.

Then he remembered victory wasn't here yet. That was exemplified by a rating running out to inform him that two dozen Communist aircraft, and four warships, were heading right for them. Germar turned to the Admiral to pose a suggestion. "Sir, could we not order the Goethe and the Faust to fire their remaining railguns on three of the approaching ships. Their conventional battery can take care of the fourth." But Dönitz shook his head.

"No it takes those guns half an hour before they can fire again. I want to save them for the Red carriers and other heavy surface warships." Those EM Railgun's were still only prototypes so there was still room for improvement. Anyway, even if one gun fired successfully, that didn't mean none of the other three could backfire horribly. The ships were built by Blohm & Voss in Hamburg but the guns were designed by KTI, Germany's premier technology firm. The ships were built in standard security secrecy like any country would conceal shipbuilding, but the guns had to be developed in extreme secrecy; ever since its last CEO skipped out on war crimes charges by the ICC and war profiteering charges by the German government, KTI was being run through with a fine tooth comb by the international authorities. All projects concerning arms development were supposed to have frozen production, not these though. Production of the EM Railgun continued at the express urging of the Oberkommando der Marine, Naval High Command. Some features may have been rushed, leading to Dönitz hesitation in using them.

"Sir we have enemy aircraft closing, and fast." Dönitz was brought back to reality by Germar's notice and shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Send up a squadron to greet them. Prep all anti-air and anti-missile defenses. Come on boys, quick as you can." The German fleet sprang into action to repel the Communist attack. Dönitz and Germar walked over to the radar station. "What kind of Red's will our boys be dancing with tonight?" The operator responded immediately. "Sir, enemy aircraft read as Chinese J-20's. Russian aircraft are new and not in our database. Suspect they are the new T-50." Now that would be a tricky business. German aircraft designers had already had a little bit of time to implement countermeasures to the Chinese J-20 into the latest aircraft designs, but the Russian T-50 had been an oddball. Not even the German Empire's best intelligence operatives had been able to penetrate the security surrounding the aircraft, no matter how many people they bribed, killed, or blackmailed.
Last edited by New Decius on Sat Apr 29, 2017 10:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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Ex-Nation

Postby New United States of Columbia » Wed Jun 07, 2017 1:03 pm

San Francisco, Socialist Republic of Columbia


Stahl smiled upon hearing General Homes inform him about the success of Operation Golden Remorse. As soon as he was smiling he was told be General Homes to leave the area and that a limo would take him to the NKVD emergency government center at the Hilton Hotel. Nodding, he followed Zubek to the limo and requested that Zubek be with him. As they drove down the long winding streets, observing SRC and WU troops keeping law and order with their patrols and, every now and then, firing squads, the General Secretary tried to memorize what Zebeck told him to say in his speech the following day.

Once at the Hilton Stahl could see what Zubek meant by it being an emergency government center. Outside the parking lot and all entrances were blocked by jeeps, barbed wire, and armed guards. In the parking lot he saw lots of staff cars and troop transports with the entrance guarded by machine gun positions, the roof top covered with snipers and SAM emplacements, and a few machine gun emplacements in some of the rooms. It was a poor man's fortress in other words.

Once the two party officials left the limo, Stahl had to admit he much preferred the limo as the SF sun at that time of day was blazing hot. He shielded his eyes as they adjusted to the rays of light reflecting off the grey and white buildings that lined the rest of the city. He noticed, walking up to the entrance, all the people inside. Obviously members of the Columbian Communist Party and World Union. He found his old secretary there and was quickly registered and taken to his quarters. On the ride up the elevator the thin man wondered what else to add to his speech. He left the elevator, was led to his state room, and allowed to unwind. Turning on the large television he found various news reports regarding the fighting around SRC territory. Apparently only tomorrow, at his speech, would they learn about what happened in L.A.

The next morning


Loud banging could be heard on the door. The guard, a tall World Union soldier from Japan, shouted through the door, trying to wake the Secretary up. It was the middle of the afternoon and all WU and SRC news sources were there, hundreds of reporters, journalists, and the two Communist groups propaganda ministers were there, ready to report and hear about the nuclear strike in Los Angeles.
But Stahl was being uncooperative. He was fast asleep, wishing he could stay asleep as, he had to admit, he'd rather not deal with the fact that he might just trigger a nuclear war if the other factions learned about this. And with the New Unionists probably in control of some nuclear weapons of their own...
"GENERAL SECRETARY! OPEN THIS DOOR, NOW!"
Stahl's grey eyes opened. The sunlight pouring in through the window kept him warm, but also let him see clearly how late it was. Now that he was finally awake, he knew he couldn't hide from his duty to the Party and The Revolution. He had to give the speech.
He lazily looked to his right and saw, on the night stand with a small lamp, a copy of Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto, and a bottle of wine, a notecard. On it, the night before, he scribbled out what he could remember of what Zubek told him to write down.
Grabbing it and placing it in his pocket, he got up, fixed his tie and put on his dress shoes, before opening the door and greeting the World Union soldier.
"I'm ready." Stahl said quietly.
The Asian soldier nodded before leading Stahl to the elevator. Down on the sixth floor, they found a small conference room. It took the soldier and politician a few minutes to fight through the crowd of red reporters but, once there, the televised broadcast began. Stahl nervously looked around, saw the cue to go, took a deep breath, and began to read and ad-lib:
Comrades, yesterday the city of Los Angeles, was consumed by nuclear fire from a missile launched by our gallant allies in the World Union. This was not an act of betrayal. This was an attack on the capitalist dogs and fascist pigs who intended to storm the city and rape it to their pleasure! The enemy would have desecrated shops and homes, dragged women of all ages out onto the street to be raped and children to be molested, rounded up brave soldiers of the Revolution to be executed for fighting for the freedom of the peasants and workers! We evacuated the city most thoroughly before detonation, and those citizens now make their way back to Red lands where the imperialist monsters cannot touch them. However, one hundred thousand perished with the city, to the great regret of both myself and all free people of the world. Some were simply too late in being evacuated, while others, brave heroes, were members of a volunteer militia which attempted to hold up the enemy near the city outskirts. When the mushroom cloud went up, these courageous men and women smiled, for they knew they had done their duty to further our Socialist cause! Now, the capitalists are deprived of their festival of horrors they intended to visit upon the city, as they visited horror upon San Diego and San Francisco, yet, they are also deprived of a valuable staging area from which they could have attacked North.
To this end I have resolved that from now on our valiant forces of the Columbian Red Army shall fight on the offensive! No more retreats! No more surrendering to the wolves that wish to rape our land of it's resources and keep our people enslaved to their false faiths! The scourge of Christianity, which has long oppressed the people and kept them tied down by either the nobles of Foley's False Regime or Hancock's Fascist Order, shall be put to the flames of revolution and enlightenment! Comrades, today, I have resolved that all options are on the table! All weapons we have shall be used. The flames of Revolution, a People's Dictatorship, shall extinguish our hated foes. Long live the Revolution! Fight on for freedom!

When he finished he wished, more than ever, to leave. But the press didn't stop pestering him with questions. Several hours later the General Secretary left and so did the propaganda machine. He looked and found Zubek. He quickly jogged over to him and smiled.
"Glad to see you again, comrade. How goes the war effort?"

Aboard the train, en route to Cheyenne


Foley grew more and more angry as he fought his son and the hellbeast. Seizing an opportunity after parrying another blow, he slammed his body hard into Juvon, sending him crashing tough the car wall and out into the dark tunnel.
"Finish him off!" Foley roared, his altered voice sounding like a mighty lion announcing an attack.
The robots, originally fighting Max, Samantha, and Klemm, obeyed the Emperor and raced out of the train.
Hearing Klemm shouting desperately into the phone, Foley strode over, his large power armor boots loudly clanking onto the ground, before he thought he found the ambassador. He sheathed his sword, grabbed the seat, and ripped it off the floor. Klemm gave a scream of fright as Foley's chocolate colored eyes bore into his skull. His large, menacing grin, combined with the easy to see slaughter in the hall and the fact his face was splattered with blood, truly made him look like a demon from Hell.
Before the modified human could say anything, the High King had returned to his feet, screamed, and charged his former father, hoping to kill him in one strike.
He wasn't able to.
Foley turned, lazily blocked the blade with his arm, and grabbed Titus by the throat. He hoisted him into the air, and gave a bored look at him.
"Do you really think you were a threat to me? I could've killed you easily were it not for that thing."
He then, carefully pinched Titus' neck at the appropriate pressure points, making his son go limp like a rag doll.
The man then turned, placing Titus on the ground, before standing up straight and looking at the two Germanic ambassadors.
"Now... what to do with you two?"

Wheeler Air Force Base


Burke was relieved when the communist bought his story. He and his Capilean counterpart returned to the trucks, gave the signal, and immediately a platoon's worth of men began to grab the needed supplies from under the Red's nose. It was a long grueling task, especially in the pacific sun, but they kept at it, not resting until eventually one of the Marines collapsed from exhaustion. After he was returned to the truck's and the supplies were fully loaded, the saboteurs quickly began to leave, driving away and seemingly not raising a commotion.

Back in the lead truck Burke gave a tremendous sigh of exhaustion.
"Thank God that's over with," he said to the Capilean officer "I just hope we can get these to the boys on the mainland in time."

New York City, Duchy of New England


Indeed, what was once considered a potential "Western Venice" of wealth and luxury, had been reduced to a third world war zone. Dead bodies lined the streets as New Union forces had been stalled by the few, but determined, German and Italian defenders. Shots could be heard all around the city as various locals, such as Central Park, were besieged by the Columbian Fascists who were determined to get to the harbor since it'd both signify them having succeeded in pushing out or destroying the foreigners and allow them to reach "traitors" who were to be executed.

Corporal Jeremy Knox, a Heavy Weapons Specialist, grunted with effort as, while his armor was mostly intact minus turning the various scrap metal from abandoned automobiles into armor for his damaged chest piece, his body was aching from the nonstop fighting he had been forced to do for the eighteen hours. Sure the buff-out and pyscho were keeping him running, but he was exhausted. The Metropolitan Hospital was now besieged with the defenders forced to secede the first floor to them. His squad were tasked with being the first to head up to the second floor while engineers were charged with knocking out the power. Sure sunlight would still be there (as the first six hours of fighting were done the previous night when they first entered the city) but it'd definitely force the doctors to surrender if they wanted the vital systems back on to keep their patients alive. Cruel, yes. But that was war. That was fighting to retake what was yours. Fighting to retake your country.
"Panzerfaust!"
Knox looked up, having previously been checking to see if his heavy machine gun was loaded, when he and his squad had heard the dreaded word. A bright light came charging at him. He could react before it slammed into his chest, the fixed charge sending molten copper into his chest and back. Before the armor crashed to the ground he had been killed. The rest of the squad, in mere combat armor and fatigues, had been able to hit the floor and avoid being subject to the explosion. They then aimed their rifles and returned fire at the defenders.
"Time to die, sauerkrauts!" The squad leader called out as he primed and threw a grenade down the hall, hoping it'd at least wound the German officer.

After the grenade exploded the squad (and following NU troops) noted something odd: The Germans stopped shooting. They also stopped (reluctantly) as they also soon heard the noise.
"What the hell is that?" One of the NU Privates asked, looking out the window and trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.
They soon learnt what that hellish noise was.

The guards helping keep any Italian, German, or Pro-Occupation militants from interfering with their advance were soon in the fight of their lives. Initially, for the first few seconds, they assumed it was some heavy artillery round fired from the Germany Fleet down in the harbor, but soon realized it was much worse. The War Frame, with it's massive auto-cannon in hand, began to tear apart the Columbian troops, it's rounds punching through the armor like they were made up of wet cardboard and shredding their trucks and jeeps nearby. As this was supposed to be an attack rely on speed, aside from the artillery and close air support provided by the Vertibirds, it was mostly made up of light infantry, power armor troops, and Infantry Fighting Vehicles. The Germans, now countering with heavy support, would be able to fight them off it they got enough troops in on time.

One of the power armor users, in his prototype T-51b armed with an automatic grenade launcher, was racing up the stairs of one of the nearby apartment buildings. Finally on the thirteenth floor, he found a blasted hole in one of the rooms and used that to survey the firefight and see the battle in the sky between the Columbian Vertibirds and the German Dropships. Laser and machine gun fire flew in the sky while one of the Vertibirds, apparently called in for Close Air Support, began to fire rockets at the War Frame. They made contact with the armor and their shaped charges began to make dents in the armor. Satisfied, the pilot of the aircraft was about to fly away, until the War Frame brought it's auto-cannon fire onto one of the VTOLs engine. As bits of armor began to fall off and fall onto the streets below, sparks and thick black smoke covered the right engine as it began to go up in flame. It began to spin out of control, the pilot frantically attempting to try and steer it out of the way, but unable to, as it began to spin, faster and faster, as it was about to crash into the apartment buildings.

The trooper, seeing this, ran out of the room and headed towards the stairwell, when the veri crashed and crumpled up as it hit the building, knocking out the wall of the room below it, sending brick, glass, and metal down below. Once the horrific noise was gone the trooper returned, spotted some Fallschirmjäger's below, and fired his first of many burst of 40mm grenades at the foreign troops.

Throughout the rest of the city, the space borne reinforcements caught the Columbian New Unionists by surprise. For half an hour they held out before, under the sheer weight of War Frame's and airborne Ardenti and Fallschemjägers, they were forced to pull back. Hancock would not be amused by the reports...
Last edited by New United States of Columbia on Sun Jun 25, 2017 6:38 am, edited 5 times in total.
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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Mon Jun 26, 2017 10:26 am

Wheeler Air Force Base


Governor-General Rolf Hoß was waiting with bated breath in his office, hands clasped behind his back, pacing back and forth before his desk. He sprang forwards when the door swung open, revealing his adjutant, Major Kütt. "Well?" Hoß asked expectantly.

"Sir, almost all of our units have reported in- armed and ready."

"Excellent. Initiate Operation: Überläufer." Kütt smiled grimly, nodded, and left the room. Hoß returned to his desk, smoothed his uniform, and sat down, pouring himself a glass of brandy. Now it was time to sit back and watch the fireworks.


Never, during the few months that the Capilean had been assisting their former enemies, had any semblance of respect, trust, or even acceptance been formed. The experience had not even humanized their enemies in the eyes of the Capileans. Instead, a simmering rage and boiled, boiled, and slowly risen to the surface- and now it was about to explode, quite literally.

A pack of grim-faced, determined Capilean and Columbian mechanics, technicians, engineers, and officers crossed through the unmanned checkpoint and into Wheeler Air Force Base proper unquestioned. Klaxons, alarms, and loudspeakers were blaring all around, and dozens of Communist airmen and soldiers were rushing about. The Germans were attacking. Red officers were shouting orders in a half-dozen different languages, and pilots were gathering for last minute briefings. No one noticed the lowly mechanics moving from plane to plane, apparently doing maintenance checks. In reality, they were fastening deadly explosives to the undersides of these aircraft.

Minutes later the technicians trooped out of Wheeler, never even suspects. They exchanged knowing smiles as a chain of ear-ringing explosions blasted from behind them, destroying an airfield's worth of Commie aircraft- before they even left the ground.


In the barracks and offices set aside for the Capilean and Columbian soldiers, last minute battle preparation was ensuing. Today they would finally redeem themselves in the eyes of their fellow soldiers in California. Today they would die as martyrs, like those brave souls who'd defended Cabo to the last. Today they would fight.


Appalachian Redoubt


Max watched in awe as, one after the other, both Juvon and Titus were defeated in quick succession by the towering machination before him. The High King of Columbia lay limp, for all purposes dead, on the blood-soaked, wreckage-strewn floor of the bullet-train, and an eerie silence hung in the wake of the din of battle. With an evil sneer the monstrous reincarnation of Foley slowly turned to Klemm and Riesch, behind whom Samantha was cowering.

"Now," the beast hissed, "what to do with you two?" Max felt his pace quickening, and involuntarily took a step backward. His grip on the pistol, still clutched in his hand, slackened. His blue eyes focused on Foley's for a second, but quickly dropped to the floor. He couldn't stare into those two bottomless sockets without feeling sick. His eyes were utterly inhuman.

Max slowly gulped and shifted uneasily. There was no noise apart from the rattle of the train as it raced through the tunnel at breakneck speed. He said nothing.


San Francisco


Terry Blücher sat quietly in the last row of the various statesmen, officials, and military officers who were seated behind Premier Stahl on the platform as he gave his speech. Since his arrival in California, and the initially crucial information he had delivered to Stahl, he had been graciously allowed to remain with the Premier, and had also been offered plush accommodations. The sticklers from the World Union had even allowed him to sit in on a few of their war room briefings. But aside from that, he had barely even talked to the Premier recently, much less affected his way of thinking. That would end today.
Image
The impressive Hilton Hotel in San Francisco.

Several hours later the motorcade of armored limousines had arrived at the city's Hilton Hotel, for the time being the nucleus of Stahl's government. Not that the Premier or his subordinates made any important decisions anymore. Their authority had been usurped by the World Union, under the guise of friendship and alliance, was secretly vying to gain a Californian vassal state, no matter the cost of Columbian lives.

Blücher stood before the door of the Premier's suite, and was ushered in by a tight-lipped guard- Russian, he noticed. Stahl was bent over his desk, focused on a piece of correspondence he'd been writing. He looked up as the Capilean entered. "Might I have a moment of your time, Premier?" he asked with a weary smile. Stahl waved his hand to acquiesce, and Blücher fell into a chair.

"Premier, before I begin, I want to reassure you of my loyalty to you. From the very beginning, I only desired to help you and the Columbian workers throw off the chains of oppression. Nothing more. Now this war has become... Nevermind." Blücher continued with a pained expression. "Herr Premier, I am concerned about the presence the World Union has here. Please, before you object, let my explain," he hastened. "Most if not all of your military cabinet has been replaced by men from the World Union. The same goes for the generals leading your divisions on the front. Even your secret service and security details are comprised almost exclusively of foreigners. For heaven's sake, the sentry posted outside this door is Russian!" Blücher was speaking in a harsh, urgent whisper now. "I speak quietly, because I would not for a second doubt that the World Union has cameras and listening devices hidden in this room, and that they are watching and listening to your every move."

Blücher paused, fixing Stahl with a bleak look. "Premier, I came here to warn you. I would not be so trusting of the World Union. I have seen what they have done to other nations. Other, well-meaning, good-hearted leaders have been drawn in by the World Union- only to have their nations wind up as tributary states to that organization, their people slaving away in arms factories, no more free under the globalists then they were under the Capitalists. I beg of you to hear me out. Take the advice of a fellow revolutionary: Please, at least take steps to ensure your personal safety. Think about how easily the World Union could dispose of you if you became a nuisance to them. Think about how easily they could cover up your assassination, Premier! Replace your security with men you trust, replace your advisors with men you hand-pick, and replace your frontline commanders with men you believe in. Above all, Premier, never forget to question the World Union. Do not let them dictate how you rule. Do not become a figurehead."

Blücher sighed, before rising to his feet. "I beg of you to heed my words, Premier. If the World Union acts as it has in the past, they very well may be my last."
Last edited by The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile on Mon Jun 26, 2017 10:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

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New Decius
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Decius » Tue Jun 27, 2017 9:23 pm

OOC: Sorry. I know I promised a large post but this will have to do for now. I'm planning a civil war rp for my nation at present as well so my NS time is kinda split.


Richmond, State of Virginia
Confederate States of America


Richmond, old, and now reborn, capital of the Confederate States of America, had been left largely untouched during the war so far, apart from a few raids by aircraft from the New Unionist's. This was a very satisfying fact for Generalfeldmarschall Johannes Mëtzig von Passau, commander of the European Community forces operating from the Norfolk staging area, and now the military advisor of the German Empire to the CSA. With Richmond intact, that meant the supply lines could run smoothly as the foreign troops prepared for their offensive aimed at encircling Washington D.C. It also meant that Mëtzig had a stable, protected location where he could meet with Davis Jefferson, President of the Confederate States.

Since the World Union successfully captured Northern Mexico, and stopped the Capilean/Loyalist offensive by obliterating Los Angeles, the German Empire had begun to lose faith in Titus' Loyalist faction, particularly since the OHL had assumed control of the Empire in the current crisis. Germany had been planning for the Loyalists to be molded in a puppet that the German and Capilean superpowers could control with ease and wield as a sword in North America. However, Titus was far too radical and the majority of the Loyalist's far too devoted to their leader to be made tame. So the eagle swung its eyes South, to the Confederacy, left alone and in perfect shape to be molded like clay. Not even ten hours after the nuclear detonation at Los Angeles, the Kaiserliche Senat approved, or rather the OHL told them to approve it, a bill granting permission to send 10.5 Billion marks in military and financial aid to the Confederate States. Though most of what Germany shipped to the CSA was pulled out of storage from the end of the Cold War at least two generations behind what all the other combatants were using but still enough to maintain the Confederacy. Even so, the 80's era equipment was German in design which meant it could still get the job done quite well.

Now here Mëtzig sat, in the office of Davis Jefferson inside the 'Grey House', the Confederate equivalent of the White House. Jefferson offered the Field Marshal his hand to shake and found the man had a very strong grip. "May I just say, Herr Field Marshal Meetzig, that I and the good people of the Confederacy welcome you and your troops with open arms and that we cannot thank you enough for all the help you have given us." The Southern twang had made Herr sound like 'hair' and Mëtzig almost groaned from how his name was mispronounced. He would just have to deal with it.

"Mr. President, if I am frank, the German Empire is looking to end the war on this coast in one offensive. I have at my disposal troops from Germany, Italy, Hungary, Austria, and White Russia, enough to enact my planned push for Washington. Your military however, must play a role as well. We will need you to throw absolutely everything you have at Kentucky where New Unionist defenses are light and which will draw troops away from Washington to counter."

Jefferson looked a bit concerned. "Everything, but what if the Loyalists attack Oklahoma or the Communist's attack Mew Mexico or Arizona? We won't have anything to defend them." Mëtzig shrugged.

"Once the offensive gets rolling, we'll take Washington and then you can redeploy your forces accordingly. Now if you'll excuse me, I have troops to prepare..." As the Field Marshal left, he knew in his own mind that Jefferson was right to be concerned. The three states he mentioned were not as strongly secure as the rest of the Confederacy. And with the confusion and frustration out West, both the Communist's and Loyalist's damn well would likely take advantage of the situation to seize extra territory. That was not Germany's concern. The Empire's concern was ending Hancock's fascist state before desperation made them try to burn the world in atomic fire and take everyone down with them.

Even if it was the New Union that launched a weapon, things were so tense and jumpy in Berlin after the Union destroyed Los Angeles, that the Empire would likely fire its nuclear weapons at the World Union and the New Union, thus initiating MAD. One only hoped it never got to that point.

Appalachian Redoubt

Klemm was himself trying to avoid Foley's gaze but he still had either courage or stupidity enough to speak. Maybe there remained some rational thought still in the former High King's mind. "If you harm either of us it could mean the end of Columbia in every regard." He looked up but avoided meeting those soulless eyes. "Surely you know that if Germany or Capile chose to do so, either of our nations could rape Columbia from one end to the other with nuclear weapons, chemical weapons, and other such destructive methods. I don't know about Capile, but I know that the German Imperial Military is more than willing to make that leap if it means defending the Kaiserreich and the rest of the world from such savagery as we have just witnessed." Klemm knew there certainly were officers with an itchy finger over that big red button right now. "Think rationally. What use is capturing Columbia if there's nothing left of it for you to rule."

Meanwhile he slowly keyed a message in morse-code on his wrist-communicator, using static bursts to signal the dropship carrying the War Frames. 'Be-Ready-To-Storm-My-Location-For-Extraction'. The tunnel seemed near enough to the surface that the mechs should be able to break through the ceiling. The impact from them dropping to the ground should be enough force. Klemm was however waiting to see if Foley did have any sense left.
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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Gotengo
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Ex-Nation

Postby Gotengo » Fri Jul 14, 2017 12:30 am

37. Ground Assault Wing, California
Socialist Republic of Columbia


Sergeant Sergei Kaminski piloted his Su-34 in formation with the rest of the flight as they headed for a Capilean column moving towards San Francisco. They were not the only aircraft flight moving into the attack, more than two dozen such strikes were occurring right now while cruise missile strikes from warships hit up and down the coast. The World Union, despite being severely outnumbered in California, was launching a full all-out offensive in the West. The objective was to drive the Capilean's back into the sea and the Loyalists back over the former Communist border.

Sergei had the lead tanks in the column in his sights and then...boom. Three erupted in explosions as his bombs made a direct hit. Within moments the entire column was burning on the road...

BNS Cromwell, Three Miles Offshore
San Francisco, California


The Queen Elizabeth-Class Supercarier BNS Cromwell, was serving as General Homes center of command for Operation Red Tide. The reports from all across the front were coming in as they happened. From airstrikes to ground skirmishes, to submarine attacks on ports, everything was being coordinated through this carrier.

General Homes and Admiral Weaver were both observing a holographic campaign map of California showing the positions of their troops and suspected enemy positions. Gone were the days when generals would push figures around with sticks across a table, now were the days of the future. A general had the entire battlefield at his fingertips with no need to get his hands dirty by going to the front. That was a doctrinal difference between the World Union and its Germanic enemies Capile and Germany; Germanic commanders preferred to be up at the front in the thick of it all, while socialist commanders hung back to have a full view of what was happening.

General Homes took note that the Russo-Chinese armored spearhead was cutting through the enemy lines at Fresno just as planned. After the nuclear explosion, and the resulting EMP blast it gave off, all the enemy forces in Southern California were in disarray, with communications unsecured and the chain of command nearly wiped out. It was a golden opportunity to attack. The Union forces may have been outnumbered but their enemy was far less organized than they themselves were. The armored forces would break through at Fresno and then veer towards Las Vegas, supposedly showing the enemy their flank. When Capilean or Loyalist forces moved to attack the supposed exposure, mechanized troops following the armor would hit them hard. It was hoped that this offensive would encircle and destroy large numbers of the enemies best troops.

In the interim the Japanese troops would be moving steadily down the coast, supporting marine and airborne landings from carriers offshore. The goal was keep pushing until they hit San Diego. Many of the old United States warships from Pearl Harbor had been restored to combat status and would be used to bombard enemy positions on the coast. A total of of three Iowa-Class Battleships and five Northampton-Class Cruisers had been sent over from Pearl Harbor and all of them were currently hitting Port Hueneme with everything they had to disable the harbor facilities there.

It was all going according to plan...

FNS Charles de Gaulle, Caribbean
Offshore of New Orleans, Louisiana


Though the main World Union action was centered in the West, there were Union activities set to occur on the East Cost as well. The Union was aware that the German's were essentially running the Confederacy as their puppet in Columbia and it is always in the Union's best interest to hinder the power of Germany where possible. Hence Operation Gumbo named so because the focal point of the operation was an attack on New Orleans, known in part for a local dish called gumbo. Since the World Union could not strike at the German Empire directly, or even at its European satellites, without touching off a global conflict that would ravage all the participants, they would hit the puppets whose strings the German's were pulling. The Confederacy also represented in part the enemy of socialism, the Southern business aristocracy lording over the poorer farmers and factory workers, it was a case of the capitalist disease.

Obviously Russian and Chinese forces could not be deployed to the Atlantic, so other powers were called to step up to the plate. The French Commune, the Union of Britain, and the Spanish Republic were the chosen spears of globalist socialism that would strike at the Confederacy and in turn Germany. However, the Confederacy was not the only target of this campaign; if the operation succeeded well enough that a significant foothold was gained in Louisiana and Mississippi, then another operation would begin. Operation Black Dog was a contingency plan by the Council of Defense for initiating a secondary offensive against the New Union. Oddly enough this secondary offensive would have even more firepower behind it than the initial assault on the Confederate States, including participation from France's force of transcontinental strategic bombers. A small armada of warships and transports had been assembled near Cuba and then had set forth for Louisiana, protected by a shield of carrier-based aircraft and EWAC's deployed from Brazil. The multinational force was determined to show the world that it was socialism which advanced and no other.

The flagship for the flotilla was the famous French aircraft carrier FNS Charles de Gaulle, though unlike the Admiral Kuznetsov, the French had seen to vastly upgrading the vessel, renovating the ship so thoroughly it was now classed as a nuclear-supercarrier. The rest of the fleet was made up by six guided missile destroyers, two fleet carriers, one guided missile cruiser, and twenty-four assault ships containing the ground troops. Approximately 30,000 troops were traveling with the fleet to make landfall in Louisiana, and well over 150 aircraft from the carriers would be supporting them, not to mention cruise missile support from the main warships. The poorly trained and equipped Confederates wouldn't know what hit them. However, in this battle, there was no War Frame support which could be concerning if the German's decided to send mechanized aid to the Confederates.

At precisely midnight, four French fighter-bombers roared off the flight deck of Charles de Gaulle, their target; New Orleans. Once over the city, the attack aircraft unleashed their payloads of bombs and missiles on hospital's, police stations, government centers, any place of logistical importance to the enemy. British and Spanish fighter jets strafed the harbor to send the sailors scattering. A couple of cruise missiles from the cruiser Chelmsford blew apart the few civilian ships tied up at dock.

Soon enough the assault ships were beginning to dock at the harbor and unload their compliments of troops. The Battle for New Orleans had begun.

Hawaii

It did not take long for news of the sabotage at Wheeler Airbase to reach Admiral Rasilyevich at Naval Station Pearl Harbor. He had cursed quite profusely at that news. At least two squadrons plus pilots wiped out entirely and another put out of action for who knows how long. And some of the aircraft destroyed were the refueling aircraft needed for the transports if they should need to make a run for the mainland. The planes had been filled up when they blew up and so that was even more damage.

What really hindered the Admiral was that more than half the fleet he had brought with him to Hawaii had been sent across the Pacific to support Operation Red Tide. That left him with the Kuznetsov, now steadily sinking to the bottom of the Pacific, a couple of frigates, a few destroyers, and not much else to fight the German battlegroup with. Technically this was an act of war, if he could communicate with the German commander he would say as much, but he was sure that they would all wither be dead or captured before Paris or Vladivostok or Beijing learned that Hawaii was being stolen from them.

All the same he had to prepare a defense for when the German's got ashore. Though of course yet another thorn poked him in the side. The Capilean's...

He had trusted in General Hoß' sense of honor regarding the surrender terms only to be slapped in the face later. Now reports were saying that Capilean troops all over Honolulu were converging on the Governor's Mansion to regroup there and possibly hold out until a German victory. That was a significant force if the German's chose to wield their allies in their favor. Normally he did not like stabbing someone in the back anymore than he liked being stabbed in the back, but this time was different.

Calling to his adjutant, Rasilyevich gave his orders for handling the unrest at their flanks. "Deploy the 149. Spetsnatz to secure the Governor's Mansion. They are to treat it as a hostile situation and are authorized to use lethal force. Detail a helicopter squad to support them and have a couple armored units standing by just in case." Just then a report came in that the Japanese Marine troops acting as a police force had been engaged in multiple areas in the towns and in the jungle, their forces were being attacked by Columbian Marines who had refused to surrender. "I want artillery standing by where possible if the Japanese need it. But try and keep most of our big guns centered around here to try and repel the German attack." Then he issued the order no commander ever wanted to. "Issue orders to prepare for intense urban warfare."

Since the Union had not had time to establish any significant fortifications on any of the islands, the battleground would be the city of Honolulu. And it would be bloody...




About a block from the Governor's Mansion, a pair of BTR-90's pulled up and positioned themselves to block off the street as the Spetsnatz commando's deployed to setup a perimeter around the center of the enemy insurgency. 106 commando's were prt of the 149. Spetsnatz, and they were forming a cordon around Hoß' headquarters. A couple of Ka-50 attack helicopters were hovering around the area armed and ready for anything.
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New United States of Columbia
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Ex-Nation

Postby New United States of Columbia » Sat Jul 15, 2017 12:09 pm

Aboard the Bullet Train, Near Cheyenne


Image
Foley about to terrorize Klemm, Max, and Samantha

The Emperor's gaze lingered as he looked and listened to both of the former ambassador's or representatives of the two Empires. He spotted Samantha, cowering behind Max, who also appeared to be quite fearful. As she should be, since they weren't exactly dealing with an ordinary man.
But then he heard it. Klemm was rather foolish in his attempts to try and "reason" or, more accurately, threaten Foley. The man he once knew, the cowardly, meek, and foolish High King, who tried to be friends with everyone, died in the car bomb. The new Foley was ruthless, vengeful, a true zealot, and a man with great hatred. The Saxon man had learned to hate. And now was his chance to show it.

He straightened his back, the servos and mechanical instruments in the suit whirring and purring as he did so. And he then did something he figured would scare them straight. His armor hissed as a small bit of steam exited the back of the suit. It bloomed open like a flower and he stepped out of it, making sure to shut the suit so no one could try to steal it (not like they could anyway as it also would require someone with his cybernetic limbs to be effectively hooked up to it. Plus it'd feed them drugs of all sorts, making them docile to superiors, violent to foes, and keeping them stimulated as if they drank gallons of coffee and other stimulants) before he walked around it, showing his horrifically scared body. Cuts and stitches littered his entire body from head to toe. His arms and legs were thick like tree trunks as he confidently strode forward, his chest and abdomen bulging with artificial and natural muscle, given an impression of being an exaggerated bodybuilder. His hazelnut eyes looked from Klemm to Max to Samantha and back again before he stopped five feet from them. He noticed Max's shaky grip on the hand gun and Klemm trying to foolishly message someone. Foley gave a cruel laugh as he casually snatched the gun from the Capilean officer and the wrist communicator from the German and broke them in a single squeeze, the plastic and metal cluttering the ground with soft clinks.
"I think you'll need more than that to stop a man on a mission from God."
His deep voice resonated throughout the train. It was deep, almost like a Dragon's, but one could easily detect it was synthetic, as if his vocal cords had been enhanced or replaced with various mechanical means to create a human voice.

He then turned his attention squarely onto Klemm. For a few minutes he did nothing but look at him, occasionally blinking, showing no sign of hostility, his soulless eyes boring into the German's lively ones. Then he grabbed the German by his throat and hoisted him a good three feet into the air. He felt the German try to kick him in the shins. He responded by slamming him hard onto the cold metal floor before breaking the man's left leg, pulling it out of place before fracturing his femur in two. His eyes narrowed, his teeth were bared, and he looked and sounded all too much like a demon.
"I would've been more careful with your words, German," he hissed, spitting with every word he spoke, light coating the man's face and neck as he began his rant "and I've had enough of your kind. You burn our cities, slaughter our people, steal and thieve everything not bolted down and then some. You rape our women, molest our children, sodomize our men, murder my metaphorical children in your recreated concentration camps, and yet you act surprised when we show no mercy and decide to pay it back lightly by firebombing and firing missiles at your land and your people!? You are a sad, pathetic, ignorant creature. You are the very bottom of humanity and if we are but a spec next to God then you are not even a subatomic particle."
He then grabbed Klemm and Max by their necks and started tossing them around like rag dolls, screaming all the while.
"I will make sure to drive you all into a boiling ocean, tied down with heavy weights, and cast into the sea before a crowd bigger than those who witnessed the cruel murder on Calvary Hill! I will make your kind suffer for the crimes you have committed against my people as I will bring an apocalypse upon ALL who raped our land and people!"
He then chucked them into the door leading to the front engine and hurriedly climbed back into the suit of power armor. He then effortlessly grabbed his son and daughters, tossing them over his shoulder and squeeing their legs to keep them in place, before he jumped out of the train and ran back to finish the fight with the hellbeast.

Wheeler Air Force Base


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The airfield before the "treason" committed by Columbian and Capilean troops

The Columbian Marines looked around the barracks as they loaded their rifles. The summer island heat made them sweat though it was mostly coming from nervousness. They were about to undertake a suicide mission essentially, attacking an airbase on full alert, hearing gunshots and sirens in the far distance as the Germans were beginning their assault on Honolulu. One of them, a young fresh faced trooper from California, looked at one of the Sergeants. His eyes showed obvious fear since, while he had been there during the first assault and the occupation, he still was only a good nineteen years old.
"Are we going to die today, sir?" He asked, lips trembling and body shivering slightly.
The Sergeant, Dixon Radcliffe, sighed before he looked the boy square in the eyes.
"A huge possibility. But know this, if you die today I can guarantee you'll get a good spot in heaven. After all Saint Peter has a soft spot for men who served their time through hell."
He then cast a glance at their Capilean brethren who appeared to have a few men praying. Radcliffe looked at the young boy again.
"You a God fearing man, son?"
"No sir. I'm an atheist."
Radcliffe sighed and shook his head.
"There are no atheists in foxholes." He replied simply before he resumed checking his rifle for the last time, chambering a round.

Once the men were loaded up and ready, they said a final prayer together and left, immediately firing upon the communists as the air craft exploded all around them, adding more chaos and death to the confused reds. One by one they were picked off initially before the two groups converged on the control tower, hoping they could give false orders to the various Red defenders to give the Germans and easier time.

San Fransisco


Image
Stahl's room

As Stahl had been writing an order to one of his frontline officers in Oregon (with him secretly notting all his officers and guards had been reassigned there while the World Union forces focused on Mexico) he heard a knock at the door.
"Come in," he grunted "but make it quick."
He heard the door open and a few quiet harsh Russian words. He looked up and set down his pen when he saw it was Blücher, his Capilean comrade. While he certainly wasn't smiling (having been exhausted from the day's work and everything that happened the past week), he was a bit relieved when he saw it was his "friend", in a rather loose sense. He was about to ask what the red Capilean wanted to talk to him about before he was cut off by the man. Stahl's grey eyes widen with shock and outrage as the man accused the World Union of usurping the Columbian Communist Party. Outrageous! The World Union were sacrificing their men in Mexico and he had the gall to insist they wanted to take over Columbia! To destroy the peasant and workers revolution so they had another vassal like some crude monarch! He was about to stand up and chew the man out before Blücher quickly tried to explain himself.
"Please, before you object, let me explain."
Stahl snorted but sat down and, harshly, told him to hurry.
"Most, if not all, of your military cabinet has been replaced by men from the World Union. The same goes for the generals leading your divisions on the front. Even your secret service and security details are comprised almost exclusively of foreigners. For heaven's sake, the sentry posted outside this door is Russian!"
He noticed the man was whispering. He saw Blücher looked over his shoulder cautiously, and gave a small sigh of relief to hear the Russian talking with another man outside. He scotched closer and leaned forward, whispering even quieter now.
"I speak quietly, because I would not for a second doubt that the World Union has cameras and listening devices hidden in this room, and that they are watching and listening to your every move."
As the man fixed him with a bleak look, Stahl's face began to show worry. He had, now that he was paying attention, noticed worryingly that his Red Guard had been replaced with Spetsnaz and NKVD, loyal to the World Union most likely, and that his troops were either deployed to the less important northern front or were basically cannon fodder for the more 'precious' or 'experienced' or 'veteran' WU troops. His grip on the chair tightened, threatening to tear open one of the arm rests and expose the stuffing underneath.
"Premier, I came here to warn you. I would not be so trusting of the World Union. I have seen what they have done to toehr nations. Other, well-meaning, good-hearted leaders have been down in by the World Union-only to have their nations wind up as tributary states to that organization, their people leaving away in arms factories, no more free under the globalists then they were under the Capitalists. I beg of you to hear me out."
Outrageous! The premier's eyes bulged upon hearing this. His pace quickened. He looked ready to explode. The World Union would dare to overthrow his regime!? To overthrow the communist vision of a Proletariat Dictatorship and replace it with slavery!? He would not stand idly by and let this happen!
"Take the advice of a fellow revolutionary: Please, at least take steps to ensure your personal safety. Think about how easily the World Union could dispose of you if you became a nuisance to them. Think about how easily they could cover up your assassination, Premier! Replace your security with men you can trust, replace your advisors with men you hand-pick, and replace your frontline commanders with men you believe in. Above all, Premier, never forget to question the World Union. Do not let them dictate how you rule. Do not become a figurehead."
As the man rose to his feet about to leave, Stahl had been frozen to his seat. It was a lot to take in. His mind wasn't thinking. He was merely absorbing all that had been revealed and suggested. As Blücher reached the door Stahl got up and, in a few strides, stopped him from opening it. He gently pulled him to the living room and sat him on a couch before sitting opposite him. For a few minutes he said nothing, eyeing the door nervously, before focusing on the drapes on the large window showing the city below, pondering if there were microphones hidden there somehow, before he fixated his grey eyes on the Capilean.
"Thank you, comrade." He said softly, speaking in a hoarse whisper "I won't forget this. I wish to speak with you again tomorrow, if you can afford the time."
He then got up and shook his hand firmly before gesturing to the door.
"You better leave now before they get suspicious."
He then watched Blücher leave and, seeing how dark it had gotten, switched off the lights before climbing into bed. He hoped he could achieve this 'silent coup' before the Loyalists or the New Union or the Germans or, more worryingly, the World Union, achieved victory on his small Communist holding. Only time could tell.

Washington D.C.


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Newly rebuilt Imperial Palace now Presidential Palace

Hancock sighed in frustration, staring at the information he had received. "Sawatzki" had successfully retrieved information and was expected to return after being picked up in Italy but that wasn't relieving him from the stress of reading their defeat in New York. He saw the casualties and captures and read they had only succeeded in massacring traitors and a few German divisions before space borne forces had arrived. Having read this he contacted the General in charge of retaking Norfolk and ordered him to return to Washington. Having done so he had been seated in the Executive Office and begun pacing. He wondered what to do now that the only real choice was to dig in and try to hold onto the District of Columbia for as long as possible. His mind began to race as he thought of some of the super weapons they had. They still had a few Deathclaws and, while they were of no use against the German Super Soldier, they'd be very effective against regular ground troops and light vehicles so long as they didn't start using anti-armor weaponry or soak them in heavy machine gun and armor-piercing fire. Perhaps they could rig some of the monuments to blow, crushing the enemy infantry or blocking off certain paths if, say, the Washington monument were blown up in a certain way. That was the hope anyway.

Getting agitated he left the office and took the stairs to head to the main lobby. It had begun to be refilled with various artifacts and paintings including the famous documents of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution being placed in fine crystal glass to preserve them form decay. That idiot Foley assumed there was a God. Hancock merely realized if there was one, he sure as hell wasn't stopping him from reclaiming the American Dream. After all they had successfully created Deathclaws. Sure they had a few problems but they created life. And had begun to invest in cloning technology to, hopefully, use it to create more soldiers. Maybe even create more Super Soldiers?
He returned his attention to the problems at hand. He could plot and imagine the future of the nation later. For now it'd all be thoughts in his head until he retook Columbia and drove the Germans and World Union out to sea. So far he had a few mechanized, armored, and infantry divisions in Washington and a lot of civilian militia who were given whatever weapon they could scrape up. Hell he noted they began to raid museums to take muskets and try and arm the militias with those instead of proper military grade energy weapons or firearms. Desperate times, desperate measures, he figured.
Last edited by New United States of Columbia on Mon Jul 31, 2017 7:44 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Sat Jul 29, 2017 8:52 pm

Hawaii


Image
The battle for Hawaii begins.

General Randolph Hoß surveyed the Governor's Mansion compound with cold gray eyes. This was a betrayal of honor, he knew- but it was a treachery they had to make. If they could succeed in drawing even a few companies of Communist troops away from the beaches, it could be all the Germans needed to break through and liberate the islands. Better yet, if they could consolidate a defensible position with enough men, they could feasibly divert whole enemy brigades or even a division away from the frontlines, which would certainly impact the battle.

The General looked around once more. The high perimeter wall had in recent months been reinforced to prevent an attack by rogue Columbian marines, so that several guard towers and a row of battlements now faced outward from the compound. On these walls had been mounted SAMs, super heavy machine guns, and anti-infantry and tank guns, as well as a few mortars and very small howitzers. In addition, snipers with armor-piercing weapons were perched inside the towers, with directions to knock enemy officers and vehicles out of the fight early. A company's worth of men were spread out among the wall, carefully loading their weapons for the final time before battle and manning the deadly instruments of war at their disposal. Finally, because darkness was beginning to fall and Hoß had nowhere near enough night-vision goggles for all of his soldiers, massive searchlights were scattered along the ramparts, illuminating the battlefield and the sky and hopefully blinding their enemies.

In the courtyard a fountain quietly gurgled whilst close to a thousand Capileans knelt in groups beside their officers, praying fervently. Four armored cars and a tank, somehow squirreled away before the Communists had stripped them of their heavy weaponry, were now being crewed and revving their engines. Even as he turned more detachments of Capileans were straggling into the base. Many hadn't rendezvoused with their comrades, instead meeting up with Columbian marines to mount distracting attacks against weak links in the enemy's logistics and command chains. Everything had fallen into place, and now all to do was to wait.

Suddenly a murmur rose from all of the assembled men. "Enemy spotted," Kütt whispered beside him. Hands trembling, Hoß raised a silver whistle to his lips and blew.

In an instant the men in the courtyard gave a tremendous war cry and charged out through the gates to meet their enemy, diving into foxholes and behind pre-constructed redoubts and barricades and raising their weapons to defy their enemies. Above them the artillery, mortars and anti-air systems shrieked, lighting up the night sky with fiery explosions as the first salvos of gunfire were exchanged.


Camp Roberts, California


Field Marshal Walther Nemetz faced his corps commanders, his face grim and unsmiling, quite the opposite from his usual bright countenance. Major General Henrik von Ravenstein, commander of the seasoned 1. Expeditionary Korps, looked back at his commander with the same bleak expression; his troops had suffered catastrophic losses after the atomic detonation at Los Angeles. Next to von Ravenstein there was a gap which General Warlimont should have filled. It was left unclosed out of respect. Next, Brigadier General Claude Graf, stoic as always, showed no outward emotion; the Foreign Legions under his command, which consisted mainly of Mid-Western Columbians now with a new reason to fight, had escaped relatively unscathed from the bloodshed of the last few months. Lieutenant General Kurt Kon was penultimate. He, like Graf, had ensured that the majority of his forces had evaded death, as had the final officer, Lieutenant General Erich Ulex. All in all, the combined losses from the disaster in Los Angeles and the massacre at Cabo had cost the Capileans upwards of 75,000 casualties, including the complete and utter destruction of the entire 2. Expeditionary Korps as well as a number of Stoßschutz brigades.
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Riese power armor.

Needless to say, those that had survived were in complete disarray. Command chains from divisional level downwards were in a mangled mess, with many senior officers dead. Hundreds of fighting vehicles, transports, artillery pieces and munitions had also had to be abandoned during the routes from Mexico and L.A., leaving many units without proper equipment or support; likewise, several armor and motorized divisions were now seriously understrength. All in all, the situation was a mess- but there was a silver lining.

Nemetz' reports to the OKR had finally persuaded them that the campaign in California desperately needed more manpower and support, and so they had conceded to his requests for reinforcements. According to his superiors, a total of 40,000 paratroopers, 2,500 tanks and armored vehicles, 3,000 new suits of experimental armor, and, most importantly, 40 long-awaited, top-secret prototypes, would all be airlifted to him within a week, along with the added bonus of a few squadrons of fighter jets and helicopters with which he could finally dispute the World Union's stranglehold over the skies. Of course, the top-secret prototypes were what caught his interest. According to popular rumor, the first Capilean warframes, based off German creations, had been in development for years, and now he might be the first to use them in combat. The armor was also interesting; they OKR had confirmed that it was the new line of Riese power armor, meant to replicate and refine Columbian versions. They had even enclosed a schematic with their response to his request for reinforcements.

Nemetz studied it for a moment on his computer screen, and decided that the suits would be given to the finest crack Stoßschutz brigade at his disposal. A whole brigade's worth of power-armored, elite soldiers would hopefully mean the undoing of his enemies. Wishful thinking, he knew. One of his subordinates gave a small, polite cough, bringing Nemetz back to reality.

"Gentlemen," he began, "things are looking oftly grim. But there's a ray of hope in this." He held up the official communique which might just have spelled doom for his enemies. "The bean-counters at the OKR have finally approved our requests for reinforcements. We're to recieve 40,000 fresh troops, a 25 hundred vehicles, 3,000 new suits of power armor-" at this the officers all showed surprise- "and, if my hunch is correct, 40 warframes." There were audible gasps and murmurs. Nemetz smiled. "So, what do you make of that?"

"Sir, I believe that might win the war," Kon said softly, shaking his head slowly. "Warframes," he whispered several times under his breath.

"And, I believe that we have the perfect opportunity to strike with out new machines. It would seem that the Communists are stretching themselves far east, intent on pushing our Loyalist allies back into the Midwest. If they continue this pattern, they'll soon overextend ourselves, and can smash down on them from the north. They think that we've lost all of our cohesiveness, and clearly won't expect such a move." Nemetz gesticulated at a map, illustrating the distance between the enemy frontlines and their source of supplies. "We could have the chance to encircle and destroy the whole Red Army," he chuckled, handing them thick manila folders. "I've drawn out some battleplans- leaving you plenty of room to think for yourselves, of course- and we'll go over them now."

Nemetz had thought that this campaign might spell the end of his career as a top-level commander. Now it might just earn him another promotion.


Bullet Train


Max landed with a thud against the thick steel door, crumpling to the floor in a bleary haze. He was vaguely aware of the nightmare Foley swinging Samantha and her sister over his back and bounding away, but was powerless to stop him. A few minutes passed, during which Riesch regained control of his faculties. He slowly looked to his right, where a groaning Klemm lay almost incapacitated on the floor. Thinking of this poor man, with a family back at home waiting for him, Max was finally pushed to his feet by compassion, and knelt over Klemm. He examined the officer carefully, and quickly found the source of his pain: His leg was completely shattered. Groaning and trying desperately to recall his limited training on first aid, he finally manhandled Klemm over to the most comfortable seat he could find and propped his broken leg up.

Satisfied, he began frantically searching the car for a first aid kit or anything to help, shouting insults at himself all the while. Finally, he found a small plastic box bearing a red cross under one of the chairs, and ran back over to his patient. Fumbling with the latch on the box, he surveyed its contents for several moments before casting his eyes to the roof. "Mein Gott, hilf mir!" Breaking into English out of habit, he almost broke down. "I have no idea what I'm doing."


San Francisco


Blücher was dumbfounded. He'd expected to be carted away by Spetnaz the moment he'd uttered a word against the omnipotent World Union, and yet miraculously Stahl was here before him, thanking him for opening his eyes and silently fuming at the treachery of his malevolent benefactor, Russia. Terry slowly nodded, shaking hands with the Premier. After a few moments Stahl seemed to come to his senses, and yet Blücher could sense the workings of a grand plan forming behind his cold grey eyes, and told him that he should better leave before the sentry outside got suspicious. Terry nodded and assured the Premier that he would see him tomorrow, before seeing himself out of the door. He paid no attention to the Russian guard, who seemed to observe him with carefully disguised suspicion, and walked back to his quarters, wondering if he would live to see the next day.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

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New Decius
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Postby New Decius » Tue Aug 01, 2017 10:07 pm

Hawaii

While the warships duked it out, German forces were already making landfall. The Communists hadn't been able to fortify the entire coast of Oahu in the short time they had occupied it so it was a matter of simplicity to get a special operations team ashore. Two boats pulled up to the shoreline of what had been one of the many pristine Honolulu beaches until the occupation began. Six men disembarked from each boat and moved up the beach towards the shore front in a quick manner. The battle for the actual landing was happening on the other side of the city so the only troops they should encounter were skeleton patrols not yet redeployed to defense positions.

Major Kurt Weiland checked his G45B Battle Rifle a fourth time as he and his men entered the deserted streets of Honolulu. He and his men were KSK, German military special forces, and their objective was to relieve the pressure on their Capilean allies besieged at the Governor's Mansion. Specifically they were to send coordinates of the enemies position to the Battlecruisers at sea which would then fire their conventional batteries on said. The skies were still contested so an air strike was not entirely likely to work. However artillery bombardment was non-interceptable.

Weiland and his men turned a corner and came across a large square blocked off by Russian BTR's and Spetsnatz. They hugged the wall of the building and Kurt told one of his men to zero in on any radio frequency's emanating from the Governor's Mansion so he could transmit a message. "Attention General Hoß, pull your men back inside your perimeter we have naval battery fire about to come down on Spetsnatz positions. I repeat..." meanwhile the coordinates were being sent.

Mere moments later there was a scream in the sky and then a trio of explosions in the square that surely scattered those Russian spec ops...

Virginia-Maryland Border, 56 Miles from Washington D.C.

Generalfeldmarschall Mëtzig waited with grim satisfaction as his troops stood ready to launch their offensive against Washington. Here at the border were one hundred thousand German, Italian, Hungarian, and other European troops along with hundreds of tanks and other vehicles. Dozens of War Frames were scattered into the mix as well. It was no proper invasion, but it would be a proper offensive by thunder.

Right now he was scanning the horizon with his binoculars, surveying the enemy defenses and awaiting the appointed hour. The New Unionists certainly had a lot of bunkers and trenches here at the border, not that they would do them much good against a European mechanized offensive backed up by heavy air support and artillery. Most of those fortifications would probably be wiped out by the initial artillery barrage while air strikes took care of New Unionist forward troops. The War Frames would be the first troops to really hit the enemy as was their right and which would devastate whatever was left after the barrage they had already suffered.

There! Midnight struck and hundreds of pieces of artillery opened up behind him, from small fixed howitzers to large self-propelled artillery. Explosions played out across the horizon as jets screamed overhead. The Battle for Maryland had begun...

San Fransisco

As Terry was walking down the street a man in a large hat and a trench coat suddenly came up next to him and whispered to him. "Keep walking and act normal. I am not the NKVD. I am a fellow progressive socialist like yourself." Any member of the NKVD would say the same thing and be dressed the same way so no other member of the NKVD would bother them.

The man introduced himself properly a half a block later. "Greetings Herr Blücher. My name is Konrad Schultz, of the Kommunist Partei Deutschland or KPD, or at least I used to be, until the bloody Kaiser banned the party five years ago. No doubt you've heard how we remained active underground, despite having the security services set upon us. We have especially gained popularity in Tanganyika and Namibia but still our membership has dwindled to a hundred thousand. Most of our members are either frightened away or killed." He turned to look Terry in the eye. "I come to you, a man of great influence to be your assistance to save the peasants and workers in the German Empire."
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Gotengo
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Postby Gotengo » Sat Aug 05, 2017 1:14 am

Red Army Command, San Francisco

Holmes was delighted for the first time in this campaign. Even with the advance into Mexico and the capture of Hawaii, the Capilean-Loyalist thrust had almost cleaved California in two and nearly been a disaster for the Word Union. Now the Red Army was showing the enemy that the Union bowed to no one. And his plan was working. It would seem the idea of encircling several armored divisions had wetted the enemies palette some and now it appeared Capilean forces were moving to hit the exposed flanks.

What those Capilean's didn't know was that the mechanized troops had not moved up with the armor. Only motorized infantry had been moving with the armored troops while the mechanized assault troops and infantry had held back. The goal was that when the enemy forces moved to hit the Red Army armored forces in their flank, the waiting mechanized troops would crash down upon their flank and the armor would wheel about to finish the encirclement. STAVKA back in Vladivostok was hoping that if the main Capilean force was wiped out it might get further reinforcements turned around or even get the Capilean's to try and bring the German's to the peace table. In a sense, the Union was all for a show of force and dishing a little hurt out to the imperialists, but they were playing with fire now; three superpowers fighting a proxy war was bound to lead to some major collateral for the rest of the world eventually.

Just then an aide walked up to deliver a message, one which also brought the General joy. The forward units of the First Columbian Front had crossed the border back over from Mexico and were beginning to form up form a push up into California. Airstrikes and cruise missiles from warships were helping to keep the enemy dancing for them like a puppet on a string. Of course, Holmes wished he had the ability to threaten the use of another nuclear weapon, that might scare the enemy shitless.

That brought a thought to the General's mind, why not have the embassy in Berlin or Saxtonberg float the idea that if things didn't cool down in a hurry, the Union was willing to use another weapon, this time possibly against German or Capilean soil. Would the Foreign Commissariat even consider the idea? To even suggest it was playing with a fire that could scorch the entire Earth. Just floating it might also cause Germany or Capile to get jumpy and launch a preemptive strike obliterating Paris, Vladivostok, Beijing, or Tokyo. Within hours the whole world could be a mushroom cloud.

But maybe it could work. He called for a dispatch aide to send the message.

Berlin, German Empire

Wladislaw Polchenko, the People's World Union ambassador to the German Empire, was without a doubt shocked by the message that had arrived from Paris. He was himself Polish, though Poland as an independent country had not existed since 1957 when the newly reformed German Empire invaded and conquered the Polish People's Republic. Wladislaw had served as the ambassador to Germany for seven years now and knew that the entire German government either hated him out of hand for being a Pole or respected him for his iron will. That will cracked today.

'They want me to float the motion that we might use another nuclear weapon. And they expect the Union to survive.' The press fallout alone would be a disaster if this leaked; press in the Union was tightly controlled by the state but even those broadcasters would get some gasps and scandalous remarks in before the NKVD hauled them away. Not to mention how would the bloody German's and Capilean's react. One didn't toss around the idea of nuclear weapons like a children's toy, not when that toy could destroy human civilization. Wladislaw would rather join up with a band of Polish partisans living in the sewers of Warsaw (He refused to call it Warschau as the German's did) with scant food or munitions, than deliver this news. But if he didn't it was all too likely the NKVD would haul him and his family away to some labor camp in Siberia or Western China.

He picked up his desk phone. "Alesia, call the German Foreign Office and the Capilean embassy here in Germany, and ask them that I would like to meet with both the Foreign Minister and the Ambassador at the German Foreign Ministry at the earliest possible convenience. Say it is a matter of great urgency concerning world security and Columbia." Over the years Wladislaw felt he had built up a good working acquaintance with both Ambassador Stromberg of Capile and Foreign Minister Jost of Germany. Only now Jost was dead, supposedly at the hands of ultranationalist's, and a German Admiral sat in his chair.

Hawaii

The Spetsnatz forces were ready the Capilean charge and began to hammer away at them with machine guns and mortars. What they were not ready for was battery fire from German warships. The blasts ripped into their lines like a warm knife through butter. One of the helicopters even came down from a wayward shell, crashing into an office complex half a block away.

Before they could get a message back to headquarters about the artillery fire, the lead operative was killed when a shell made a direct hit on his BTR and it went up in flames and smoke. The remaining forty or so soldiers slowly slipped away into the streets, firing as they went.



OOC: Sorry it wasn't longer. I have a bit of writers block.
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New United States of Columbia
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Postby New United States of Columbia » Sat Aug 05, 2017 4:05 pm

Norfolk, Viriginia


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German occupied Norfolk, about to receive some unpleasant visitors...

For the Germans, things in Amerika appeared to be going too well. Like the last war the enemy was fleeing and putting up little resistance. Supplies were going untouched, the populace were proudly supporting their brave troops, and the might and brilliance of the German Empire was, once again, on display for all the world to see.
Unfortunately, for them, this was about to turn.
Unknown to them, most of the countryside was against them. These people were proud patriots, proud supporters of the New Union, and were not about to let them get away with robbing and raping their homeland without trying to, at least, give the German Eagle a good black eye. While they might not have the best of weapons (hunting rifles and shotguns probably don't stand much of a chance compared to military grade weapons, rounds, and armor) they DID have something their disciplined European counterparts lacked.
Ingenuity and knowledge of the terrain.
They used every dirty trick they could think of to stop the advancing Germans and, more importantly, their thinly guarded and protected supply lines. They'd give false information, block them with 'unknown' knocked down trees that'd take days to remove, mined the roads, or simply tried to have local town and country governments give them as big a bureaucratic headache as possible. And, right now, while they might have ways to counter the first four ways the Militias and Resistance might stop them, they had yet to encounter or stop the fifth way.

Unfortunately for the Germans, if they didn't want bad PR, the fifth way couldn't be stopped by mere bullets...

The governor of the State of Virigina, Governor Oswald Boone, wasn't happy. At all. As his white dress shoes angrily stamped on the cold concrete ground of the naval station, his face red with anger, his mind was at work. For benevolent invaders, these Germans, weren't bringing anything good with them. He'd heard horror stories that made him think they were medieval in thought: Entire towns pillaged, citizens robbed of food and valuables at gunpoint, national parks desecrated to be made into forward operating bases or mere parking lots for their gargantuan tanks! This nonsense had to stop! If these Germans meant well then the only thing they could do to show it would be to follow some of their rules. It was so simple, honestly, yet they never did it. Well today, Oswald thought to himself as he saw the German Admiral talking with some of the yard workers, that is going to change.

He stormed up to the Admiral and shouted, loud as he could "Admiral! Get over here!"
As the German Admiral walked over, confusion on his face, the Governor continued shouting until they were an arms length apart.
"WHAT is the meaning of this!?"
He then pointed to the German Warships in the harbor. Naturally, the German explained, they were supply ships that were meant to bring supplies to the Germans fighting against the New Unionists.
"I know that! Do I look like a dummy!?" Boone shouted, his face cherry red with anger "I mean what do you propose by docking your ships there AND NOT PAYING FOR A LICENSE TO DOCK THEM THERE!?"
He did not listen to the German Admiral for the Governor resumed his rant. With his rather high pitched voice and how he was shouting so much one would think he'd be hoarse by the end of the spar, he seemed to be an angry mouse.
"YOU HARBORING YOUR SHIPS THERE SEVERELY HAMPERS OUR ABILITY TO CONSTRUCT OR SUPPLY OUR OWN WARSHIPS! SINCE THE EMPRIE WAS MASSIVE BEFORE THE FRACTURING, WE WEREN'T EXACTLY ABLE TO BUILD MULTIPLE SHIPYARDS AS OTHER PROVINCES AND BARONIES, LIKE MAINE, NEWFOUNDLAND, YUCATAN, WASHINGTON, AND CALIFORNIA, WERE ABLE TO BUILD MORE WARSHIPS FOR THE EMPIRE AND WE WERE VIEWED AS MOSTLY AN AGRICULTURAL AND ARTISAN TRADE PROVIDENCE! And, even if you can somehow get away with this, YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH BLOCKADING OUR TRADE PORTS WITH YOUR STUPID SHIPS BY DOCKING THEM THERE! YOU DOCKING THEM THERE STOPS US FROM EXPORTING OUR CASH CROPS, ARTISAN GOODS, AND FOOD TO THE REST OF THE WORLD! AND YA KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, PARTNER!? IT MEANS WE CAN'T IMPORT ANY INDUSTRIAL GOODS AND TOOLS THAT WE CAN'T MAKE OURSElLVES!"
He got nose to nose with the Admiral and suddenly lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.
"If you do not get your ships out of our ports, pay the fines, and pay for docking licenses for each and every one of your ships, I will use any and every power I have to drive you out! You are hurting our trade, you are ruining the lives of many of our citizens, and you are more of a menace to us than the NU at this point."
He then turned and began to walk away. Before he was out of earshot, however, he shouted one more demand to the Admiral:
"And tell Metzig to return all my silverware that bastard stole from me!"

Honolulu, Hawaii


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Honolulu now a war zone

The fleeing Spetsnaz, first fearing a German bombardment, now had something else to fear. As they ran, not caring to look where they were going, just so long as it was away from German artillery, they headed down one of the tropical paradise (now tropical hell) alleyways...
Only to run into Radcliffe's Raiders.
The two groups stopped running and, taken by shock, both didn't start shooting. Not for a few moments, anyway. Eventually training, instinct, and the knowledge only one group could walk out of there alive took over and Radcliffe gave the order, his sweaty hands raising his battle rifle at the leading Spetsnaz.
"Open fire!"
Cracks and bangs rang out and echoed throughout the alleyway as the two groups of trained killers duked it out in the backstreets of the war torn capital city. While the Raiders had better weaponry such as a few laser rifles that could easily punch through light vehicle armor, the sheer numbers and skill of the Spetsnaz more than made up for the technological advantage.
Radcliffe dove behind one of the trash cans and popped several blind fire shots in the general direction of the Spetsnaz. Reloading soon afterwards, he spotted the Californian trooper, whom he nicknamed Rookie, also taking cover and, with trembling hands, trying to reload his battle rifle. The Sergeant was about to shout for him to go further back into the alleyway so he could perhaps have more solid cover when, to his horror, he spotted a small black fragmentation grenade land right next to the Californian.
"ROOKIE!" Radcliffe screamed over the hail of gunfire "RUN!"
The Rookie looked up, listened to the sergeant, but didn't run. He was more confused why the sarge ordered him to run in the middle of a gunfight. By the time he saw why, it was too late.
Radcliffe ducked and was nearly made deaf by the blast. The percussion almost popped his ears as the tightness of the alley made the effect of the blast wave and noise worse as it amplified it. He could have sworn the grenade also killed him but the sudden arrival of new gunfire convinced him otherwise. He looked up and saw a horrific sight: The Rookie torn to pieces by the grenade. His stomach was ripped open and his organs shredded, the normally grimy olive green uniform and his own skin ripped off by the shrapnel and his face... his face looking like it was bashed in with a sledgehammer with blood slowly draining from every hole in his body. Radcliffe would've cried if he hadn't seen such a sight before. But it was clear to the Raiders and new German arrivals that he was shaken slightly.
"Sergeant?"
Radcliffe looked over, his blue eyes meeting Kurts. Kurt asked where the Marines were heading and Radcliffe informed the German they were trying to get to the Governor's Mansion to assist the Capileans there.
"You don't suppose you could help us get there... Major?"

San Fransisco, Socialist Republic of Columbia


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An NKVD Agent in Columbian fashion

Stahl's day was rather busy. Aside from trying to assist the WU in coordinating the War Effort against the Capitalistic War Machine (as they collectively referred to the other factions in the 2nd Great Division) he was also plotting to try and gain more power for himself and The Party. Right now he was in his room, going over various dossiers on his own officers and members of The Party. His cold grey eyes scanned the individuals that were his generals, his mind slowly absorbing all the information he could get, his palms sweating as he slowly began to fear Blucher was right about them bugging his room with microphones and cameras. He had one file open on a loyal Communist general, Comrade General Nathanial Samson, commander of the 1st Motorized Division (Or formerly the Red Guard) who had previously been in charge of being his bodyguard unit. Now they were stationed way up north on the Washington-Alaska border and, from what little he heard, they had standing orders to... wait for further orders. Maybe increase the defenses incase of a Loyalist or Canadian attack but they had nothing else to do. It seemed deliberate. The Loyalist attacks up north had long since ceased after the nuking of L.A. The Loyalist forces retreated and essentially handed over the stolen territory without firing a shot. Stahl didn't blame them.

Ever since that event it appeared the Comrades of the World Union got more and more paranoid about Stahl and his Party. First they began to invest more in arming and supplying his troops to "assist in the Revolution". However, as he and his forces noted, they were given old Cold War era jumpsuits and Ushankas with the World Union symbol on the front. They weren't given any armor and the guns they received were severely outdated (especially compared to the energy weapons the Loyalists and New Union were arming their troops with). Moreover they began to get suspicious they were viewed as nothing more than cannon fodder for the more "valuable" WU troops. Whenever there was a skirmish or a battle they were sent in first. If they failed then the WU would show up and claim all the glory. No one could say they didn't expect some of the looser cannons in the Columbian Red Army to not start trying to "frag" WU officers and soldiers when they could get away with it. Then they regulated curfews, installed more troops to act as garrisons for nearby forts and camps, and began to send more NKVD officers into San Fransisco. In short, they were beginning to fear, it seemed, the Socialist Republic of Columbia turning on them.

As Stahl finished looking over the Comrade General's file he shut the folder and headed upstairs to the bedroom of the suite, found the bed, and began digging underneath for the loose tile. When he found it he slipped the files in (being careful to make sure they were leaning agains the hole he had made) and then replaced the tile. Soon after he got on his black suit with crimson red tie and left, stating to the NKVD guard at the door that he was going to visit the city garrison. In actuality he was planning on meeting Terry who he knew was out in the city. As soon as he left he found his staff car and driver, for once a Columbian car (with it's distinct whine thanks to the nuclear fission engine) and his Columbian chauffeur. He got in and the driver soon got behind the wheel.
"It's secure, right?" Stahl asked in as hushed a whisper as he could.
"I'm sure, Comrade Premier. We had it checked. Even managed to get some of the Army Engineers and Internal Security boys to look it over. So long as the windows are up and doors locked, you can speak freely."
Stahl sighed in relief. He then asked his driver if he knew where Terry was. Sure enough, on his way to the Hilton, he found Terry and some Germanic looking man talking at one of the restaurants in the city center. They got there and, sure enough, there was Terry with... an NKVD agent. Both the Chauffeur and the Premier's faces paled. Stahl looked down and nervously stroked the butterfly knife he had hidden in his pocket.

Ever since his discussion with Terry earlier that week, Stahl himself was getting paranoid. Aside from the knife Stahl had other changes made to his person, wardrobe, and habits. His suit had a ballistic weave woven in, allowing him to maybe take another pistol shot or two in case of an assassination attempt. His dress shoes now had toe spikes added that would allow him to make any kicks more damaging. Also on his person, in the other pocket, was a tiny Sig Sauer p230, which he kept on his person, like the knife, at all times of the day. He also kept a Columbian AK-103 Revolt Rifle in his room under the bed, a proper captured Laser Pistol under his pillow, had set several booby traps throughout his suite (including a frag grenade trap at the door), and ordered the entire floor be used only by him and a select group of soldiers and agents who he knew were loyal to him and him alone.

He reached to open the door but the driver stopped him. His arm was in a tight grip as the man hissed "Are you insane!?"
"I trust Terry wouldn't sell me out like this! I have to help him!" Stahl shouted back before he freed his arm and flew out of the car. He ran up to the two men shouting "Wait! Comrade! I can explain!"

Washington D.C.


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Photo of Metal Nationalist, Washington Model, taken in Police Headquarters

Hancock looked out the window of the Presidential Palace with pride as he saw the brave citizens of Columbia rallying to defend their homeland. While he normally might've preferred to go outside the city so he could try and stop the Germans from reaching the capital of the New Union, he knew his defenders weren't enough. Sure he had superior armor (having given all his soldiers power armor and energy weapons) but he couldn't trust the militias to defend the city by themselves. Armed with spare military grade rifles, hunting rifles, shotguns, and whatever they could find and use as a gun (even turning a bicycle into a repeating shotgun with some good old fashioned Columbian ingenuity), he doubted they'd hold off any serious attack. But he did have a few aces up his sleeve.

For one he had called back all forces he could. Half a million soldiers, in one or two weeks time, would be arriving at D.C. to bolster it's defenses. Everyone was called back. Those marching up to Canada, down to the Confederacy, down to Mexico, up to New England, over to assist militia's in Loyalist territory, all were called back. And, as he thought some more, that'd definitely help make his forces appear bigger and stronger than they were. But that wasn't all.

Aside from calling back forces he had made some force multipliers using that Columbian ingenuity. Robots found in entertainment establishments and in museums were being retrofitted themselves. To assist in raising moral these "Metal Nationalists", as they were called, were dressed up in the likeness of Founding Fathers Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin, given old Columbian flags draped across their backs and folded to resemble angel wings, and armed to the teeth with the Washington models having a standard minigun armed with explosive rounds, the Jefferson models having Plasma cannons, and the Franklin models being armed with left over Gatling Lasers.

Aside from those he also made sure to fortify the city to the best extent he could. A "moat" was being dug around the city. Not like a medieval moat, no. That would surely be impossible. The moat was, in fact, a large trench, meant to keep the Germans from being able to move their armor into the city and acting as a way to slow down advancing troops. The only way to get across would be to physically enter and climb it (leaving them vulnerable to snipers and machine gunners), to build a bridge (which would take time and could easily be harassed by snipers and require them to wait, giving the defenders more time to fortify and change strategies if they see something they wouldn't normally be prepared for), or to fly in (shot down by SAMs and AA guns). Though the moat was a back breaking and time consuming project, seeing as he put all the militia to work on it and it still took nearly a week to do. And when the militia weren't working on that he had them blocking the ends of every street in the city with cars, trucks, and the impressive Hesco Barriers which appeared to be resistant to most tests done by rocket and machine gun fire. Not completely impervious but enough to get the job done.

But that still, to his mind, wasn't enough. So he had more defenses added. He found the Pentagon fortress also had a bio lab to it. And, as luck would have it, fifteen Deathclaws on standby. All he had to do was get them under his officers command and now he had the ultimate urban warrior at his disposal. His hungry eyes soon turned to Adams Air Force Base with it's intact structures and vertibirds and fighters, fueled up, armed, and ready to go. All they needed were staff, pilots, and some SAMs to protect them from any strafing runs by the Luftwaffe. And then he had two of the (in his mind) best weapons: The Monuments and a single letter.

The monuments, such as the Washington Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, the Jefferson Memorial, The Capitol, and the Presidential Palace (Or The White House seeing as it appear Foley build his old Imperial Palace around the White House, figuring it'd make an impressive entry hall) were armed, fortified, and rigged. If any Germans tried to seize them as a convenient stronghold, they had enough explosives added that they'd easily be destroyed and take anyone a city block away with them. The Washington monument, in particular, was rigged so it'd fall and collapse on the invading Germans. Or, that was the plan, which they hoped would not needed to be used, seeing as the fanatic nationalists feared they'd be destroying the things they should be protecting.

However, to the President of the United States of Columbia and leader of the New Union, the letter was his best weapon. It was a simple offer: A two weeks ceasefire to exchange Prisoners of War. In exchange for a captured brigade of soldiers from the 2nd Republican Guard rifles division, they'd hand over two KSK teams they captured who were fleeing from Loyalist territory (and, they noted, babbling on about hunting some monster that was said to resemble the dead High King Foley). As to how they'd get them to accept it was simpler:

Once Mëtzig and his men smash the "defenders" at the border (which was, in fact, an undefended border seeing as it was a ruse meant to trick the Germans into wasting ammo and time on, essentially, a giant line of dirt and concrete) he would receive a courier on a motorbike with the offer. It read:
To General Mëtzig,
I have an offer for you. Your brave men and women of the Great German Reich have been fine and vicious fighters. Some of the best soldiers I've seen with us an honorable second I'd hope. But, I have noticed, that your men are rather worn out and tired. I do not blame them. This pointless and destructive conflict has been going on for, right now, a solid two years. But I am certain neither of us is willing to pull out without victory. So, I've an offer for you.
In exchange of this KSK team led by the honorable Kaptain Anya. In exchange for this team I'd like my brigade of men from the 2nd Republican Guard Rifles Division. After the prisoner exchange the ceasefire is to last two weeks. Should be enough time for us both to lick our wounds, straighten things out, establish or reestablish order in our territories, and gain new recruits for the meat grinder.
Sincerely,
President John Hancock
President of the United States


Two weeks, Hancock figured, would be enough time for the Germans to rearm, handle internal security, and then add more men to the front. But it was also enough time for Hancock to add even more defenses to the already seemingly invincible fortress: Stock pile ammo and rations, blocked the Potomac with his remaining ship, the super carrier U.S.S. Manifest Destiny, perfect some of the bugs in the Lincoln Memorial defense system, etc.

The "New Rome" was now essentially a fortress. No one could easily get in and no one could easily get out. Come hell or high water, the New Union will not go out without a fight...
Last edited by New United States of Columbia on Sun Aug 06, 2017 2:29 am, edited 11 times in total.
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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Founded: Jul 12, 2015
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Sat Aug 05, 2017 9:06 pm

Governor's Mansion, Hawaii


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The helicopters attacking the Governor's Manor.

The Capile forces got wind of what was happening just in time. Having just clambered into their earthworks, they received frantic orders to evacuate them minutes later. Scrabbling out and sprinting back into the compound, they flung themselves behind the brick walls just in time to be thrown on their backs by the devastating impact of the German shells. The artillery barrage absolutely eviscerated the Spetsnaz blockade, slaughtering a good many of the Russians in an instant whilst sending one of the shattered BTR 90 husk careening down the street and a helicopter crashing into a building. The Capilean machine gunners and the SAMs mounted on the walls immediately began to focus on the other choppers, keeping them away from the fight. The shell-shocked Capile soldiers just managed to catch a glimpse of the equally stunned Communist soldiers staggering away from the flames before they disappeared into the darkness.

"Spotlights, track them down!" the distorted voice of General Hoß ordered, amplified by a bullhorn. In an instant the Capilean soldiers atop the parapets were wheeling the massive spotlights around, and soon the retreating enemy troopers were caught in the glare. Machine guns opened up on them in an instant, ripping through a rank before the Russians managed to find shelter in a narrow alleyway behind a gutted building. "Assault teams, after them!" Hoß said, now standing tall on the ramparts and observing the battle below. The soldiers who had just rushed back inside the safety of the compound now flooded back out, streaming towards the alley into which the enemy had disappeared. What greeted them when they arrived was a sight for sore eyes.

There stood the survivors of the German artillery salvo, duking it out with a band of Columbian Marines. A collective sigh of relief issued from the Capileans, and, without mercy, they descended on the exposed backs of the Spetsnaz soldiers. Guns blazing, empty shell casings ricocheting off the walls, and their enemy flopping about like fish out of water as they were hit, several squadrons of Capilean soldiers burst down the sidestreet, sealing the Russians in. Behind the Capileans loomed their tank, holding its fire for now but ready with its turret and machine guns should things get out of hand.

A Capilean lieutenant suddenly emerged from the tank's turret, bullhorn in hand. "Hold your fire, hold your fire!" his voice crackled. "Attention, Russians! We are offering you one chance to surrender here and now! Lay down your weapons and submit to us, or we will resume fire- and we will kill all of you."


San Francisco


Terry Blücher had been on his way to a downtown cafe for a quiet, under-the-table meeting with Premier Stahl, and, wanting to keep the matter as discreet as possible, hadn't used the government car and driver that had been provided to him from the start of his stay here. Instead he was travelling on foot, trying not to look suspect as he strode nonchalantly through the streets of the Socialist Republic's provisional capital.

After the nuclear destruction of Los Angeles, what little faith the people had in the government- and certainly in the World Union- had evaporated. Massive worker's strikes, a glut of employed, scraggly looking bums, and derelict factories and abandoned buildings had replaced the orderly and clean California of the past. The carnage, rubble, and destruction left in the wake of Capile's raid of the city, which was supposed to have been cleaned up months ago, had barely been dented by the half-hearted efforts of press-ganged work crews forced to remove it. There was a general feeling of disquiet and unruliness that seemed to fill the air. Terry suspected that the only thing keeping the people from storming the People's Hall were the roving Russian death squads that, while they hadn't actually killed yet, had clear intentions to do so if someone put a toe out of line.

Blücher was nearing the coordinates Stahl had given him when, out of the blue, a trenchcoated man came around the corner behind him. Walking swiftly, he caught up with Terry and started to speak slowly, directly into the Capilean's ear. Blücher almost had a heart attack. He thought that he was going to be shot, or even worse, dragged away to a Communist safehouse, where he would be beaten and broken and tortured to death. He thought that someone, the World Union had found out about his little chat with the Premier, and was going to deal with him then and there. But the man's words prevented him from passing out on the sidewalk.

"Keep walking and act normal. I am not the NKVD. I am a fellow progressive socialist, like yourself." Terry's heart was pounding, his faculties far from him, so, unlike a more gathered mind, did not immediately assume this was a ruse. He followed the man's directions and kept walking, his heartrate slowly returning to normal. Half a block later, when they had almost reached the outskirts of San Francisco and the Russian agents had dropped off, they made proper introductions. "Greetings, Herr Blücher. My name is Konrad Schultz, of the Kommunist Partei Deutschland, or KPD. Or at least I used to be, until bloody Kaiser banned the party five years ago. No doubt you've heard how we remain active underground, despite having the security services set upon us. We have especially gained popularity in Tanganyika and Namibia but still our membership has dwindled to a hundred thousand. Most of are members are either frightened away, or killed." He paused for a minute, letting that soak in. "I come to you, a man of great influence, to assist you in saving the peasants and workers in the German Empire."

Terry was silent for several long seconds. "The KPD," he finally murmured, "of course! You- you were a huge influence on us, the Capilean Communist movement, that is. And-" he stopped as he realized what the man had said lastly. "Help... Help the workers of the German Empire? Surely... How could I assist you, from all the way over here?" Terry suddenly realized they were discussing this right out in the open, where anyone could hear them. "Perhaps we should find somewhere private to discuss-" he was interrupted by the squeal of tires and brakes as a long black government car came to a lopsided halt in the middle of the road. For the second time that day Blücher thought he was about to die.

But instead of a group of Spetsnaz agents, Premier Stahl burst out of the car, ranting and raving and running towards them. Quickly, Terry switched into gear.

"Premier!" he announced jovially, using one of his beefy hands to bring Stahl to a halt by grabbing his shoulder and the other to firmly clasp his hand. "Such a joy to see you, and in good health I see!" Blücher's brown eyes bored straight into Stahl's clearly conveying his message without words: Act natural. They are watching.
"I was wondering when you would be joining me, and my associate here, for lunch! Shall we go in, then?" He gestured to a seedy diner across the street, hoping desperately that Stahl would get his drift.


Berlin


Freiherr Thomas von Stromberg went up the steps to the German Foreign Ministry two at a time, aware that this meeting had to be very important- and concerning the war in Columbia- for the World Union's Ambassador to call both him and the provisional government's Foreign Minister to it. Unlike his former counterpart in Paris, von Stromberg had no inherent hatred for either the Poles or the World Union, preferring to judge each individual separately, rather than all together under the banners of their nations. He did, however, hate Communism, a difference he had managed to work around with Ambassador Polchenko, building a stable and cordial relationship with the man in his years of service and their occasional meetings.

Greeting the receptionist with a smile, he was shown up to the Foreign Minister's office. It had changed during the tenure of its new occupant, its walls now draped with paintings of naval battles and mighty warships, a reflection of the navy officer who had been called in to replace Jost. Von Stromberg was sure that this military man could never fill his predecessor's shoes, but he kept those thoughts to himself as he shook hands with the new Foreign Minister and sat in front of his desk, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on his briefcase as he waited for the Pole to arrive and the meeting to begin.


Camp Roberts, California


Field Marshal Walther Nemetz sat alone on the hood of a Capilean jeep, watching as a cluster of his officers played a raucous game of cards. Operation: Anakonda was now well under way, with Capilean armor divisions beginning to bear down on the exposed flanks of the Communist front, mechanized infantry behind them. Camp Roberts and the distance between it and the frontline was maintained by the remnants of the Foreign Legion soldiers and the Expeditionary Korps, both of which were understrength but combined could hold the military base. Besides, the promised shipment of power armor, Warframes, and additional soldiers, vehicles, and aircraft was to arrive within mere hours.

There was the sudden rumble of a lumbering tank, and Nemetz whirled around. "Friendly, sir!" a sentry declared, lowering his gun and sitting back down in his watchtower. The tank, which had a small motorcade of transport trucks behind it, with two Capilean helicopters tailing it in the distance, came to a halt when inside the base's walls, it's convoy following suit. A glut of people poured out, one uniformed Capilean officer stepping from them and approaching Nemetz.

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Major Holtzclaw.
"Feldmarschall!" he barked, snapping a crisp salute and waiting until Nemetz had responded before continuing. "These are the recruits we've gathered so far from Projekt Volkskrieg," he continued, gesturing broadly to the three-hundred or so men still spilling out of their transports. Volkskrieg was, of course, Nemetz' ambitious plan to build the Foreign Legion back up to its original size by recruiting, training, and arming locals, both Columbian patriots and German/Capilean-Columbians(the preferred candidates), of which there were large communities in the area from the Capilean Diaspora. So far the turnout didn't look exactly impressive- but the Field Marshall was sure that more would come of it.

"Sir... I believe there's someone you should meet." Nemetz studied the man for a minute, and then abruptly nodded his approval. The young officer led his commander over to a small group of men standing behind one of the trucks. At the approach of the officers all five of them whirled around into perfect attention, saluting. Nemetz was mildly impressed. He returned the gesture and put them at ease.

"Field Marshal Nemetz," one of them began, "it is an absolute honor to meet you. I am Major James Holtzclaw, 40th Infantry Division." Walther studied the man. He started with his uniform, clean and pressed, but bearing the obvious signs of wear and tear. It was Columbian-issue, Pre-war from the look of it. His clothes bore a number of service patches, bars, and even a few medals, and sure enough, there was the golden oak leaf, a Major's insignia. Interestingly enough, not only was the Columbian flag patch attached to his arm but also the Capilean.

Next was Holtzclaw's face. A scruffy beard framed his scarred, grizzled face, in which were inset two perfectly blue eyes. The eyes were what threw Nemetz, what caught him off guard. Though the Major seemed to be absolutely focused on the man before him, his eyes seemed to be glazed over and distant, as if he were reliving some harrowing memory.

After introductions, Holtzclaw asked if he could speak to Nemetz in private, and so the Field Marshal led him into his command bunker, where they began to talk. Holtzclaw soon revealed that ever since the beginning of this war, he and a band of about six hundred other soldiers had been resisting Communist occupation in various ways, from blowing up bridges and raiding supply stockpiles to delivering food and water to starving civilians and rescuing prisoners of the Communist regime. He told the Capilean grimly how they had started out as two thousand soldiers who defected from their division after the unit went over to Stahl. They had been under a Colonel Nelson then, who had been killed by the enemy, leaving his command to Holtzclaw. The organization had been whittled down in botched operations and bloody skirmishes until now, when they had found a chance to join up with the Capileans- the Major said that his parents were Capilean immigrants- and they were willing to take it.

Nemetz was elated. He quickly agreed to give Holtzclaw the temporary Capilean rank of Lieutenant Colonel and the command of a battalion in the First Foreign Legion. The new unit would be comprised of Holtzclaw's old men and the new civilians recruits they'd just gathered, and hopefully could become the nucleus around which Projekt Volkskrieg's planned army could be built.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

The Wanderer

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Gotengo
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Posts: 454
Founded: May 11, 2013
Ex-Nation

Postby Gotengo » Sat Aug 05, 2017 11:01 pm

Berlin

Ambassador Polchenko arrived promptly to the German Foreign Ministry as he had said he would and wasted no time getting to the point. He took a chair next to Von Stromberg and took out a bottle of brandy and three glasses from his suitcase, placing them on Admiral Erich Horst's desk.

"After you hear my news you may want a stiff drink." He turned to Horst. "I will assume we are clear to speak frankly here and that no outside persons can listen in on what we are saying." A nod from Horst. "Good because you would not want what I am about to say to leak."

"I have received word from Paris that STAVKA is considering deployment of a second nuclear weapon. Following the destruction of Los Angeles they want to capitalize on their success and cripple our enemies further. However that is not the worst of it. There are some radicals who want to use the weapon against a target on German or Capilean soil, such as one of the Pacific naval bases both your nations possesses. More frightening are notions raised that it be used against Straßburg or Brussels or against Raus. I have advised my superiors that this course of action is far from wise but I have been ordered to relay the message all the same." He poured himself a glass of brandy and downed it in one gulp.

"If the Capilean efforts to assist Loyalist forces in California or the German support for the Confederacy continue, STAVKA may be motivated to use the weapon. And I believe everyone in this room knows that once that genie is out of the bottle it cannot be put back in. If STAVKA hits a target on your soil then something on Union soil gets hit and then back and forth until we have what we all fear most in our line of work...MAD."

"If I am frank with you gentlemen, I have myself never been a big believer in Communism but the Polish government-in exile was taken in by the World Union. I have done my duty only so I and my family would not be purged. If the Union were toppled tomorrow I would lose no sleep over it. But if this happens then there may not be a world to wake up to in the next few days."
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New Decius
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Postby New Decius » Wed Aug 09, 2017 8:47 pm

Berlin

Admiral Erich Horst had held the post of Foreign Minister for little more than a week and this happened. He was supposed to be a stand-in until the Emergency Committee decided which of the Kaiser's children or relatives should succeed him when the worst happened. It was no longer, if the worst happened; the Kaiser would be dead within the month. But he was under no circumstances to even hint at such a possibility, though the Capilean's may already be aware of just how bad his condition is. The Abwehr had always been less vigilant keeping out spies from allied nations. Not to mention members of the German Imperial House may have let the information slip to friends in Capile. However, that reveal was nothing compared to what this Pole now shared.

Horst was from an older generation, born in the seventies when the Slav's in the Soviet Union were once again Germany's ultimate foe, he considered Pole's beneath him. They were but a bug standing between Germany and Russia and Germany had long since crushed that bug under a jackboot. Thus his expression immediately hardened into something almost hateful as he responded.

"You understand that if you go through with this course of action, not only with the Kaiserreich escalate its war effort in Columbia, we shall respond in kind." That was the subtle way of saying it, now came the blunt facts. "If you attack so much as an inch of German soil there will be consequences. Paris, Beijing, Vladivostok, Tokyo, São Paolo all of them will go up in mushroom clouds. We will wipe you off the map." He then turned to Ambassador Von Stromburg. "We have not known each long but I trust you will assert that both our glorious empires would wipe the Red scum off the Earth in that scenario."

On the inside Horst was in turmoil, knowing the reality of what they now faced. If the World Union went through with its plan and detonated another nuclear device and Germany responded in kind, there would still be millions of men now duking it out across the world. The globe would be engulfed in war. Germany alone could match the combined military might of France, Britain, Spain, and Russia. But China and Japan could cut off the Far Eastern parts of the Reich which would also cut the supply of oil and other resources flowing from Indonesia to Germany. Worse would be all Atlantic commerce stopped by the British and French fleets, the Imperial German Navy couldn't deploy to all the tradelanes in the next twenty-four hours nor could the Luftwaffe get enough fighters up in time to properly secure all airborne supply routes.

Then there was the possibility that the entire world could end up engulfed in Nuclear fire. Even Horst's hellishly strong loyalty to Germany couldn't prevent him seeing that was a war everyone would lose, his own homeland included.

Hawaii

Despite the concrete pillboxes and missile emplacements the Communist forces had placed at Pearl Beach, a round of bombardment by warships and sabotage by Columbian franc tieurs, meant that the forces of the Kaiserliche Seebataillon (Imperial Marines) got ashore all the same. One of the Type XIIA Amphibious Assault Ships beached itself on the shoreline as its great bay doors opened and German forces began spilling out.

Willi Dernen rushed forward when his Sergeant shouted at them all to go forward, not even looking back or up to see if vehicles or helicopters were following them. As a mere Obersoldat (Private 1st Class) he had some pull with the Soldat's under him but those above him gave not a pfennig for his opinions or considerations. Corporal Baatz for instance, also known to his men as 'Awful Arno' loved to treat his men like dirt which would get him fragged eventually. Willi might plug him on this beach in the confusion, it wasn't as if they didn't still have a fight to live through here. There was plenty of death going around.

He'd heard the World Union had bombarded the islands into submission without having to launch a marine assault. He didn't think they would have the same opportunity. A troopship had gone down already in the bay from an AShW missile, about three thousand men going down with it. And even with the heavy bombardment the destroyers and cruisers had laid down, there were still obstacles left. Machine gun rounds flew threw the air and mortar bombs quickly began dropping on the unlucky Landsers. Willi had served in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Poland against partisans and terrorists and had long since realized that machine gun crews weren't picky about who they killed. He could die just as easily as any other poor sap.

He didn't intend to though, crawling through the sand with his G39B battle rifle clutched tightly to him so as not to lose it, he slowly advanced towards a pillbox. As he got closer he saw a launcher protrude from it and an RPG fire out at his comrades. That was his moment! He was right below the machine guns and one of his Type-9 potato masher grenades could handle the job easy. Willi took one from his belt and pulled the pin, then chucked it over the wall into the pillbox. There were some panicked shrieks from inside and then an explosion. Now there were screams of pain. Willi rushed up and went around the concrete fortification, only to run into a Russian soldier whom he dispatched with three shots to the chest. Now he moved inside the pillbox.

All six men inside were either dead or so wounded they desired death. Willi put those two out of there misery. The beachhead was there's.

Virginia

Unfortunately for Hancock, his ruse to get Mëtzig to waste time and resources attacking an abandoned border did not work. German satellites confirmed the light enemy presence at the border and the plans were adjusted accordingly, however Mëtzig was ordered to halt all his forces, Berlin apparently wanted to send a message to the New Unionists.

Washington D.C.

At approximately 80,000 feet altitude, far beyond the range of any current anti-air system, a lone Heinkel He311 Intercontinental Strategic Bomber flew through the sky, while the lights of Washington were visible even from this altitude.

When the aircraft was passing over the center of the city, its bomb bay doors opened and a single large warhead fell from the plane. The bomber reduced speed so the pilots could observe the effect. It took ten minutes for the bomb to reach its target, a point near the Pentagon. When it impacted there was a small explosion, about 50 kg worth of explosive, and then a massive burst of light that slowly expanded across the city, only the very farthest suburbs were untouched. But when the light receded, it was shown to have not been a nuclear weapon, though no more lights shone from the city. Hancock's 'New Rome' had been darkened.

The Luftwaffe had dropped an EMP mounted warhead on Washington as part of Operation Fever, the plan to starve and deprive the people of Washington in the lead up to a siege of the city. All electricity in almost the whole city would have short-circuited from everyday homes to even the White House and Pentagon. Hundreds of thousands would be without power, and soon without water as well. German aircraft would soon be making attack runs on several water treatment plants near the city, cutting their access to clean drinking and bathing water. All that was left was to terrorize the people a bit, which with no power to the formidable anti-air shield around the city, could now be accomplished.

Hans Ulrich Rudel saw the city of Washington go dark in the distance as he and the rest of his squadron in their Junker Ju197 G 'Neu-Stuka' flew on to their target, each of them carrying enough bombs to level a city block. They had deployed from the new airbase at Norfolk, where it was rumored the Governor of Virginia and several other local officials were recently shot for disobeying occupation law. Anyhow gossip mattered not, only their mission.

The eight aircraft headed for Washington would be targeting grocery stores, gas stations, hospitals, and fire stations, as prt of the deprivation campaign. This would deprive them of food to eat, medical aid, fuel for vehicles and forces with which to put out the fires that would rage. And boy did they do it in style. Screaming down from 5,000 feet, the classic Stuka whale crying through the air would strike fear into even an experienced soldier, just imagine how the civilians felt.

Hans-Ulrich let part of his payload go on a gas station, getting a whoop from his co-pilot and tailgunner Franz when it caused a massive explosion. He dropped the rest of it on a hospital and then headed back East from where he came. The squadron couldn't stick around too long or else enemy fighters were bound to catch the attack aircraft. The squadron left Washington blacked out and burning.
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New United States of Columbia
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Postby New United States of Columbia » Fri Aug 11, 2017 9:14 pm

Grey House, Richmond, Viriginia


Image
Confederate troops using loaned German armor and weaponry

Mëtzig had been called back by request of the Confederate President. When he arrived at the Grey House he would be lead upstairs to the office of the CSA President. There he'd find Davis in his cleanest and best suit he could get, his brilliant sapphire eyes peering into Mëtzig's own eyes. He offered the man a seat but his Southern Charm and warmth were missing. Instead it was cold and clearly indicating he thought something was very wrong. Once Mëtzig was seated a maid brought the two men some sweat tea and biscuits before she left, saying she hoped the discussion would be "productive".

Davis leaned forward, poured himself some tea and took a biscuit, before he began to speak.
"I've heard... rumors about what your men are doing, hair General," Davis said sternly, deliberately mispronouncing as much German as he could "and, if the rumors are true. I'll be very, very, cross with you and your people."
He took a few bites of his biscuit and sipped some of his tea before he resumed speaking.
"You are forcibly removing our citizens from their homes, freely stealing from our farmers and shopkeepers, and, God forbid, having... 'fun times' with our women. As you can expect, you cannot just insult Southern Honor and our fine men and women like that and expect to get away scot free. But that's not what I requested you here for, hair General."
He leaned forward again and looked Mëtzig in the eyes.
"I demand to know why you are executing my people and the people we the free people of the CSA elected to office. If I need to be clearer, why did you execute the Governor of Virginia... sir?"

San Fransisco, SRC


Image
San Fransisco Food Line filled with unemployed workers

Stahl was about to try and find a way to discreetly attack the man "interrogating" his friend when Terry grabbed him by the shoulder and feeling a large and rough hand clasp his own.
"Premier!" The Capilean jovially shouted as he spun him away from Konrad.
He then noticed the Capilean's brown eyes bore into his own. He got the message as he spotted an NKVD Agent looking at them suspect. After all, Premiers don't just wander the streets alone.
"I was wondering when you would be joining me, and my associate here, for lunch! Shall we go in, then?"
He heard Terry and saw his gestured to one of the seedier diners in the area (granted the whole area they were in was seedy). He hurriedly nodded and did the best acting he could muster on the spot.
"Yes! I was wondering when we could see how the people are enjoying our Socialist Utopia! Come, comrades, let us remember that we are but the people's servants!"
Perhaps he had overacted a bit but he could guess something was about to go down. As they entered the diner, with his broken neon signs and smell as if something died (or maybe the cooked food was just that bad) he thought he saw armed guards at one of the food lines in the city. A long line of a mix of unemployed, bums, and former workers filled it, the line stretching at least two or so blocks. He gulped nervously. They weren't exactly looking like happy socialists.

Once inside the trio quickly learned why the diner seemed so seedy. Inside the place was a mess with grit and grim lining the walls, a broken jukebox at the end, and rotting seats that looks like no one had cleaned in years. The very last thing Stahl wanted to do was eat there but, if the NKVD decided to tag along uninvited, the other last thing he wanted to do was get shot.
Die by food poisoning or a bullet, Stahl thought bitterly, his face showing signs of disgust and irritation which would I prefer?
He then spotted the drinks. Beer. That might just make the food poisoning more bearable. Hopefully.
As the three took their seats Stahl took the time to look around more. To his surprise there were still living souls here. A few rough military men, SRC he noted, who looked miserably at their plates of orange mashed potatoes and beans or were busy drinking away. They noticed the Preimer and immediately shot out of their seats and saluted him. Probably to avoid a WU Commissar no doubt.
"Sit," Stahl said simply "and... enjoy, whatever it is you're eating."
One of the men looked down at his plate.
"Better than field rations still." He noted.
Stahl cringed. Now staying at the hotel seemed nice. At least they got wine and decent food. Being a member of the party, for all it's risks, sure had it's perks.
A old, frumpy looking waitress walked up to the three men as they took their slowly rotting seats.
"What can I get you boys today?" She said, her voice reeking with bitterness, cigarets, and stale alcohol.
The premier's grey eyes hurriedly scanned the counter, every fibre of his being screaming to hurry up the meal and get out of there and talk back at the hotel, where he could wash out whatever horrid food they'd get with as much wine as he could steal from the dining hall.
"Three potatoes and beans, please." Stahl said hurriedly.
The waitress rolled her eyes.
"That's all everybody orders."
"Cause yer burgers clear everyone out" One of the troops shouted.
The other men laughed. Stahl cracked a grin.

As they waited for their food and Stahl, Terry, and Konrad discussed the SRC and KPD and Terry's problems with the Capilean Communist Party, Stahl every now and then glanced out the window, watching the food line as it was the only thing of interest. As the minutes ticked by, so did the people's tempers. First they were informed that the food bank no longer could give drinking water as it was needed for the troops. Angry shouts happened but nothing else. Ten minutes later no more baby formula. A few men tried to shove the soldiers out of the way but a few SRC troops with rifles smashing skulls did the trick. Another ten minutes pass. As their disgusting potatoes and beans arrived (though, surprisingly, while still horrible compared to food when shortages weren't happening, tasted... half decent) and they began to eat to avoid NKVD snooping around, it happened.
The food bank would be closed for the rest of the year.
That set the bomb off.
A full blown riot erupted. Mostly constrained to the food bank but a brink narrowly missing the three men's head signaled the whole district would erupt soon after. The SRC troops still in the diner hurriedly grabbed their gear and rushed out the door. The waitress appeared to wish to demand payment but another two or three bricks let her know she'd be lucky to escape with her life if she didn't leave. Stahl looked at the other two men and shouted, as he raced for the exit into the hot Californian sun "We can discuss this in my suite at the hotel!"
He ran to his limo with his Chauffer shouting for him to get in. Stahl threw open the door and dived into the back seat. The chauffeur was about to shut it when Terry and Konrad showed up.
"Wha-" The Columbian began.
"They're friends! Just get us outta here!"
He didn't need to repeat twice. The whine of the nuclear engine signaled them all that they would very soon be going back to the hotel very quickly.
The tires screeched on the pavement as the chauffeur spotted SRC troop trucks arriving... with more SRC soldiers. He could have sworn, as he left, he heard a bomb and gunshots ring out but he didn't want to dwell on it.

Back at the hotel the three men were greeted with the welcoming sight of SRC and WU troops escorting them to Stahl's room. He was very tense, wishing if he could remember if he first disarmed the grenade trap before he left earlier. To his relief, when the Spetsnaz opened the door, no explosion killed all of them. He gave an uncomfortable nod of thanks to the WU commando before he, Terry, and Konrad entered the darkened room. As soon as the door was shut Stahl rearmed the grenade trap. He then walked off to the suite's bathroom, fetched a few hotel like towels, and shoved them under the door, being careful to not set off the trap. He noted Konrad and Terry's confused looks.
"So they can't hear us." The Premier whispered.
He then pointed to the small living room with him taking one of the plush armchairs while his two new friends shared the couch. The grey eyed man looked at the German as he began his long afternoon conversation with them.
"So... why're you here anyway, Konrad? You do realize we can't exactly help the KPD... right?"

Hawaii


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Columbian Marines fighting outside Governor's Manor

Having received no help from the Germans, just a gruff note of "doing my job", Radcliffe's Raiders continued working their way through the war torn city. Already, the radio operator of the squad noted, other rogue Columbian Marines had begun to gather outside the Governor's Manor or have begun to cause problems for the occupying World Union forces. Mainly in small raids, ambushes, and luring lost units into the thick Hawaiian jungles. Radcliffe smiled as he heard this.
"Excellent," he said with a small jovial smile forming on his rough face "means we're giving these commies a good Columbian Marine Corps welcome. Let's keep given 'em hell boys!"
"Hoorah!" the raiders chanted back before the whole squad picked up the pace and began to jog to the manor.

Once they reached it the sun had begun to set. And not only was it now dusk it was also now raining. Good for them in that it might ground a few red birds. Not so good in that it was interfering with vision. That and it was making it hard to keep jogging so they were reduced to a slow march. The roads became slick, cold breaths began to leave their mouths, and and they were getting drenched. So far, they noted, they had yet to encounter much in the way of red troops. They were about to get their fill though.
"Up there, Sarge!" One of the raiders, their heavy weapons specialist, exclaimed "I think that's the manor up there!"
Radcliffe squinted but he couldn't see much. The rain had morphed into a full out thunder storm.
"What are you pointing at!? I can't see shit!"
The specialist growled annoyed before he took off. The sergeant began to shout before he heard gunfire.
Well now they knew where to go.

Washington D.C.


Image
Blacked out D.C. suburb

Hancock had been meeting with his security council when the power suddenly gave out. The whole of the Pentagon had been blacked out, and not one of them could see where they were going.
"Alright!" The angry President shouted as he stood up before stumbling over his chair accidentally, hitting the carpeted ground with a soft thump "who blew a fuse!?"
As he and the council groped and struggled to navigate the underground conference room and then the War Room, they heard the sound of rumbling explosions. Now they really had to get out and figure out what the hell was going on. Twenty minutes later they found the stairwell after much tripping, foot stepping, and waiting for eyesight to adjust to the sudden plunge to black. Another thirty minutes and they managed to miraculously get out of the Pentagon and not get lost. Though, seeing D.C. blacked out with raging fires from the German attack, made a few of the officers wish they got lost. A New Union trooper, in full power armor, rushed up to them.
"Sirs! Mr. President!" The man shouted underneath his helmet, it's red visors giving off a red glow that creeped Hancock out "We need those reinforcements sooner than later! It appears the Germans wish to starve us out and deprive us of power! Hopefully our military electronics will be back online soon. We have techies looking after those."
Hancock sighed in irritation. Terrific. All this prep work for noting. He'd sent the militia's out and ordered all civilians to leave as soon as possible. So, hopefully, that'll make starving them out harder as now there'd be more food to go around for the defenders. He looked up after a few minutes of hard thinking.
"In one hour's time I want you to tell all senior command personal to create a list of off defense hour duties. Manning fire brigades, infrastructure repair, whatever you can. I want this fortress running round the clock! And while you're at it I want you to get some of our best scientists and engineers working on ways to proof our systems against... whatever the hell triggered that black out."
"EMP, Mr. President. I know this as my HUD gave out. Thank Washington the rest of the suit is hardened against those damn attacks. I'll give the Germans this: They can be clever when they try."
Hancock snarled.
"Well, if you admire the Germans so much, why don't you do some recon work over the moat and figure out how many there are."
"I'll get to work on those work details right away sir!"
Last edited by New United States of Columbia on Sun Aug 13, 2017 10:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Sat Aug 12, 2017 2:00 pm

Berlin


Ambassador Thomas von Stromberg sat in silence for several moments, completely and utterly stupefied by what Polchenko had just said. There had been times before in his career when he had felt as if the fate of the world hung in the balance, in his hands, but never before had it been this clear to him. The Pole sat here next to him, grimly but also smugly, suggesting that at the drop of a hat his country was willing to engulf the globe in nuclear hellfire.
Slowly turning to face the Communist, von Stromberg stared at him in incomprehension. Finally, he spoke.

"Ambassador Polchenko, I am horrified." The look in the Capilean's eyes made it clear that he was not lying. "You sit here, not in the least bit appalled that your World Union has just threatened the annihilation of one of our cities- and the subsequent, inevitable destruction of all of the people on Earth- over this frivolous war in Columbia?" He began to rise. "I would think that a man of your kind would have more sense than to think that you can scare the Duchy out of this war with your empty threats and your blatant fearmongering!" Von Stromberg's voice was also rising.

"Did you really think that I would believe you when you said that you would be willing to wipe everything of the map? Do you know what mutually assured destruction means? It means that your World Union will go down in flames along with the rest of us! Everything! Obliterated!" He flung his hands up to emphasize his words.

"And you have the audacity to say this to us and offer us brandy, as if this is some social event! You barbarian! The Grand Duchy has no time for fearmongers, for doomsday plotters, or for the likes of you, Polchenko!" he spat, picking up his briefcase and spinning around on his heel to leave.

"Good day, Admiral Horst!"



Wheeler Air Force Base


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The battle for Hawaii intensifies.

General Rolf Hoß paced back and forth on the battlements of the mansion's perimeter wall, oblivious to the hail of gunfire just to his side. The Capileans had turned back the first wave- with the help of a perfectly timed German naval barrage- but the enemy still had plenty of forces left. If they chose to, they could easily converge on the manor house with enough men to wipe out the Capileans- not that they wouldn't leave a dent in the Commie army, that was for sure. With the heavy machine guns, SAMs, howitzers and mortars installed every ten paces or so along the entire wall, the defenders could hold the enemy up in an epic siege for at least a few hours, and would definitely be able to slaughter a good number of Communist footsoldiers.

Already they had dispatched with an elite force of Spetsnaz troopers, probably crippling the enemy in the department of covert operations, and moreover had shot down two helicopters and blown up a BTR, elements which would have been vital in the fight against the Germans. Speaking of which, Hoß had just gotten reports that a German amphibious force had blown their way through the enemy's bunker defense and had secured a foothold on the beach, whilst Columbian marines were wreaking havoc on the Communists' logistics and communications.
Nevertheless, the fight was far from won, and the Capileans would need to do their part.

Hoß had already decided that unless the enemy attacked again within the next half an hour, the Capileans would strike first, and join their Columbian allies in resisting the enemy. Now all that was left to do, was to wait.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

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New Decius
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Postby New Decius » Mon Aug 14, 2017 8:38 pm

Grey House, Richmond
State of Virginia, Confederate States of America


Mëtzig was not at all intimidated by President Davis Jefferson for a number of reasons. Firstly, he had begun his military career fighting Russians in the Eastern War in the 1960's so if he hadn't put a gun to his brain from his frontline experience, Davis hardly frightened at all. Secondly he knew that he held the keys to the castle as it were. Davis had to be careful not to upset his only backer, otherwise the flood of finance and supply to the Confederacy from Europe would run dry. Not to mention that Mëtzig had half-a million German and other European forces at his command including armor and air assets, if he wanted he could seize the whole of Virginia with ease.

"Mr. President, to open with we have not been looting or having our ways with the population. Yes some homes have been destroyed to make way for military buildings but only as a matter of necessity. Houses had to be knocked down so we could build the new airbase and barracks for our troops. Or would you rather we quarter our men in the homes of your citizens as the British did to their American colonists. Anyhow these claims of violations are moot and therefore should not be taken seriously."

He then turned to the next matter. "As to the Governor. He openly threatened a member of the German military with partisan action, what were we to do, let him get away with it. Of course not. If we hadn't shot him we would've demanded you do so." But then he brought out what he considered the big guns. "Besides, do you think we learned nothing in the Second World War fighting partisans, if we actually were perpetrating such crimes, we'd be knee-deep in enemy fighters by now."

Mëtzig stood up and leaned over the Confederate President's desk with a sneer on his face. "Don't forget, your nation survives because we propped it up. If you deign to rise against Germany I will order my troops to cripple your armed forces and we will leave for New York. Oh we may only be able to attack Washington from one front but with the World Union threatening Louisiana which means a Red threat that has already landed on your shores, do you want a crippled army. If that scenario occurs you'll be hanging from a power line as an example by the Red's." He picked up his cap and made to leave the room. "Know your place. Our Empire will last for ten thousand years. Your lucky yours has lasted this long."

"If you'll excuse me I have to go give the order to start bombing Washington, good day." And with that he left.

Norfolk Airbase

The Luftwaffe intended to take full advantage of the blackout of Washington to get in some carpet bombing before their defenses were back online. Five Horten Ho-336 Medium-Range Strategic Bombers sat on the runway, bombed up with ten thousand pounds of bombs each divided into five hundred pound bombs. They would give the city a great big punch before it knew what hit it.


Berlin

Just before Von Stromberg could leave the office, the doors to the office were audibly locked from the outside. Both Von Stromberg and Polchenko looked to Horst with obvious suspicion and caution as to what he could be planning. But Horst was just as shocked as they were, angered in fact. He got up from his desk and marched over to the doors, pounding on them with his fist. "Achtung! Who locked these doors! Unlock them immediately!" After two minutes of no response there was a distinct sound that carried even so many floors up from outside; gunfire. By the sound of it both pistols and automatic weapons were being discharged outside. Horst went pale as a sheet, the blood rapidly draining from his face as he began muttering to himself. "...they couldn't have...the Princess and the other leaders were shot for Christ sake!"

He stalked over to his desk and picked up the phone. "Operator get me the Oberste Heeresleitung immediately." Thirty seconds later. "What do you mean the line has been disconnected? Communications to the OHL are designed to survive a nuclear detonation!? How the hell can they be down!" He calmed down though even more blood drained from his face. "In that case get me the Reichskanzlei or the Hauptquartier der Abwehr." Twenty seconds later. "What do you mean those lines are down as well. Connect me to the highest ranking military officer or government official you can reach damnit!" It took a couple of minutes but at last someone was connected to Horst. "Finally! General Brüning what the hell is going on! I can't get through to the OHL, the Kanzlei, or even the bloody Abwehr! They've locked myself and two dignitaries in my office and there is a firefight occurring outside the building!" When he got his answer, Horst went stiff as a board. His face looked as if it aged thirty tears in three minutes. "What are we to do?....Hold in place. Jawohl Herr General!" Then he hung up.

Horst turned to Von Stromberg and Polchenko with a grim expression. "There has been an uprising in Berlin and several other parts of the Kaiserreich. It would seem the Deutsche Heim Partei, the group of ultranationalists and fascists who have plagued our government recently, have risen up against the state. Several Infanterie Divisions near Berlin have declared for them and the city is being locked down." He looked to the floor. "The temporary Reichskanzler, Leutnantgeneral Baron von Richthofen was killed along with most of the Emergency Committee when an assassin snuck a bomb into the bunker under the Reichstag, only three survived. The OHL, military high command, was wiped out by a gas attack to their ventilation system. The Abwehr I'm told is currently a battleground with loyalists and traitors fighting in the halls. Militant's are attempting to storm the building but don't worry they are unlikely to get in, the soldiers outside will keep them out." He then added under his breath. "I hope."

After that he looked back up at the two. "It would seem gentlemen that we are stuck here. There are secure lines on those side desks if you would like to contact your governments. For now operate under the assumption that loyalist forces will win the day and the traitors will hang by nightfall. Let us put aside nuclear apocalypse now." Horst had to operate under the fact that if the militants got in here they would let Von Stromberg and Polchenko go; he would be shot, likely on the spot.

San Francisco

Konrad leaned forward to speak to Stahl and Terry. "If I am frank Comrade Stahl. You can help the KPD by allowing us to fight here in Columbia. The World Union does not like our organization because we seek to create a new German Democratic Republic as well as free the occupied countries without all of these new nations being absorbed into the World Union. The Totalists don't much like that idea. Free socialist countries made out of Germany, Italy and the European satellites. It would be thirty or more new countries the World Union didn't control."

"They do their best to put us in the background press-wise. But if you were to let us fight on the frontlines as volunteer forces like the International Brigades in Spain back in the thirties, there is no possible way they could ignore us. They would have to recognize us publicly which gives credence to our cause."

"I have thirty thousand men and women ready to cross the Pacific from Indochina, all of them skilled and battle-hardened and coming with German-built arms we get from backers who would prefer to remain anonymous. If you were to supplant the World Union's officers and instructors with us then you could secure your own government while at the same time making sure command and training are left in capable hands. We have spent our lives fighting the Imperial German Army, we will not let you down."

He turned to Terry. "Perhaps you could bring fighters here as well and form Capilean International Brigades. You'd be getting back at the oppressors in your homeland to boot. We have weapons if you need them."
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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