NATION

PASSWORD

Pacifying the Provinces [MT-Cornellia-TG for entry-Mature]

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

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The Shrailleeni Empire
Minister
 
Posts: 2636
Founded: Oct 06, 2011
Mother Knows Best State

Postby The Shrailleeni Empire » Fri Sep 13, 2019 8:11 pm

Island of Ke’overi, Greater Vangarran Queendom
The Enlightened Matriarchy of the Shrailleeni Empire


Selvan looked over at his plane. It would be up and running by the end of day, if he kept up his current pace. Just in time to sit for another two weeks before the next delivery of machine parts was due. He rubbed some of the grease off of his hands.

"I didn't think I would ever get back to civilization again. And I just about lost my foot if you remember."

He sighed, and looked up at the sun. Then he turned back to Kevin.

"San Carlo is a warm climate, isn't it?" There was a brief pause, and then "Damn you, you're going to make a liar out of me. But I want details. What is this job?"
أدرس اللغة العربية وهي لغة جميلة
Mother of One, Mother of All
Ask Me Anything IC
Come to the Mother's Embrace
New Edom wrote:Elizabeth Salt remarked, "It's amazing, isn't it, you rarely see modern troops that wear their 19th century uniforms and gear so well--they must drill all the time. Is this a guards outfit?"

Sif said to her, "This is a modern Shrailleeni Empire military parade. Like as in this is what they wear, this is what they use. This is it."

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Republica de San Carlo
Attaché
 
Posts: 84
Founded: Mar 10, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Fri Sep 13, 2019 9:18 pm

Island of Ke’overi
Shrailleeni Empire

“A liar isn’t the worst thing you can be in this world.” Kevin said then sat down on the edge of the dock dangling his feet over the side, “It’s warm in San Carlo, but strictly speaking I suppose we won’t be working there. The Carlanos are paying us, but we are flying for some rebel lord in New Columbia. Those damn fools never advanced past the eighteen hundreds. They asked me to get some air tractors, and to arm them. We’ll be flying light attack missions. Nap of the earth, using terrain as cover, then popping up and launching some rockets. Takes a steady hand, someone who doesn’t get rattled, and who knows how to fly. They also don’t have that down there. I need you and three others, plus a ground crew. I put some feelers out to a couple other guys, but I’d really be happy if you came along. I need a good number 2, someone to take the blame when I fuck up. Still interested?”

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1719
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Sat Sep 14, 2019 4:10 pm

Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Cabinet Room, 11 Parliament Square


"The Imperial Navy and the Imperial Air Service?" Percival Mercer repeated, confused by the sudden military posturing the King had suggested. Dochlov Zimmermann simply nodded in reply. "Reckon he knows something we don't?"

"Perhaps he knows this..." Larry Tristram interceded, "My correspondents in New Edom learned from several of Elijah's courtiers of a large meeting recently at Betharan Palace. The Edomites supposedly discussed the possibility of war and ended with a discussion about..." He looked through some papers. "Operation 'Harvest'"

"And what does this operation entail?" Zimmermann asked, hiding his worry.

"We don't know." Tristram admitted. "But there was mention, apparently, of New Columbia and New Regensburg. I suspect the Edomites plan to make targets of the pair of them."

"That's not good. New Columbia wouldn't be able to stand for too long against a sustained Edomite attack. Regensburg should stand, though, for a time." Percival Mercer commented. "Larry, how do we stand with the Ayacan states and Noviterra?"

"Not well, I'm afraid. We have no quarrel with Noviterra and I reckon they'll stay neutral in the case of war... But Ayaca..." He considered his words for a moment, stroking his shaven chin with fat fingers. "We don't have anything against them. But they're not too happy with us. Laurenstowe has made something of a mess I hear and Solisia hasn't helped things. I received a rather rude letter earlier, apparently, they're angry at the Solisians for that newspaper screw-up. I didn't even realise they were sending troops over there."

"Any chance that Ayaca will back Edom?" Zimmermann asked, though he knew the answer already.

"There's potential, but I doubt they'll throw their weight behind Edom militarily. Perhaps they'll help out in other ways, economically perhaps. Basing for Edomite ships?"

Mercer nodded. "I will have words with the Admiralty and Imperial Air Staff. With your permission, Prime Minister, I will have the Imperial Air Service put on full alert across the country and despatch the Imperial Navy."

"Yes, of course, Percival. Where will you place the navy?"

"The Coastal Fleet will patrol our northern coast. The Grand Fleet will move out to prevent the Edomites sailing south by way of Gloria Regis and Dahamy. The Reserve Fleet and the subs will move towards New Columbia to block off the route around the Shrailleeni."

"Very good. Just one more thing, do you thing we should mobilise the Imperial Army?"

"No need, yet, though I will order the Imperial General Staff to begin organising brigades and divisions. I hope the troops we have presently will be enough, unless Edom manages to invade, they should be sufficient for fighting this out."

"Good. Let's call things here, I think we must accept that things are headed towards war. The King has written to Elijah and, Larry, I wish for things to be left in his hands as regards the Edomites directly. We must put our faith in Andy and hope for peace. But we must be ready to fight it out if things do go that way."


New Adeleux, New Columbia
War Department


"Erm, a brandy, my lord?" General Arthur Sakharine suggested, holding up a rather inexpensive bottle of Agrean fruit brandy. There was no response from the general opposite and he poured one for himself and put the bottle away. The man had arrived without warning, bearing an Imperial Commission to do as he wished in New Columbia in the King's name. The War Department had descended into chaos at his arrival and everyone watched their step around his sharp gaze. "What brings you to me, my lord?" Sakharine asked, worried.

"I'm here to take things in hand, General Sakharine." The Earl of Monton replied. He was usually an easy-going man but one look at the New Columbians told him that the lazy colonials hadn't a clue what they were doing or how to do it. He had to be serious while he tried to make heads or tails of this disaster. "His Imperial Majesty is most displeased, most displeased indeed. Governor-General Laurenstowe has been neglecting certain duties and you appear to be having certain troubles with your little campaign."

Usually, Sakharine would be indignantly angry, but this was a man with the authority to shoot him on the spot and the title of an Earl from the motherland. There was no anger in General Sakharine, only supreme fear for his position, his life even. And a strange, grudging respect for the nobleman. "I see, yes, my lord. What do you need of me?"

"First, I'd like to know a general disposition of New Columbian forces. How much strength does this Dominion possess?" Lindegard arrived. He hid his tiredness with unbecoming curtness. He had arrived very early that morning and checked into his hotel, the Royal Acheron, and enjoyed a hearty breakfast but no sleep. Port Barfleur had been his first port of call, to inform Major General Mickall, who commanded there, of his arrival and orders. Mickall had been very accommodating and even offered to parade his entire garrison of five thousand men. Lindegard had, obviously, refused.

"Erm, yes, of course." Sakharine racked his brain for every detail and explained the disposition of New Columbian forces, hoping that his memory was sufficient. "The Imperial New Columbian Army is divided into a few sections. The Infantry Corps, containing six brigades of infantry with four-thousand men each. Eighteen cavalry regiments, mostly volunteer cavalry but there is two 'proper' dragoon regiments. The Mobile Division, containing several small units of tanks and mechanised infantry, due to our fuel situation, these are confined to barracks for defensive purposes only. Then there is the navy. It retains fourteen vessels, as I recall. Three frigates, four corvettes and the rest patrol boats. That, too, is confined to their bases for fuel reasons. They could probably be active for a week at most before their fuel reserves ran dry. The air force is nothing to be particularly proud of, I admit, it contains five squadrons. Two of those are fighters, the rest are for attack missions. They too are suffering from the fuel crisis and we don't use them except in dire circumstances."

"What about the natives? The loyal ones." Asked Lindegard, looking up from scribbling in his notebook, his face betraying no emotion.

"The Imperial Native Federation?" Sakharine replied, "Yes, an interesting idea of our Governor-General. To federate the loyal tribes into a semi-autonomous union of tributaries. They fight well, all things considered, but they cannot be depended on and, in my personal opinion, they would be better off annexed."

"Thank you for that animated response, General," Lindegard replied, amused by Sakharine's clear disdain for the King's representative in New Columbia. "What about their size?"

"Two million, my lord, around about. Two-hundred thousand are believed to be in arms, however. Admittedly, far less than that number actually fight alongside us."

"Mhm..." Lindegard nodded, scribbling the figures down before closing his notebook with an audible bang which made the already nervous Sakharine jump a little. "Thank you, General, you've been a good help. I think we shall be seeing more of one another over the coming weeks. I am staying at the Royal Acheron, I trust you will keep me informed as events unfold?"

"Of course, my lord..."
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

Embassy Service - iiWiki

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22923
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Sat Sep 14, 2019 8:11 pm

The New Edomite Expeditionary Force


NENS Serpentis

Midshipman Nikos Tsiolkas stood quietly in a corner in the bridge of the carrier.
He could hear voices incanting Naval talk quietly and confidently, and somehow it was a blur of the knowledge he had done so well with at the naval academy.

“Navigator recommends steer two-two-zero.”
“Come left to two-two-zero.”
“Two-two-zero, aye! My rudder is left, coming to two-two-zero.”
“Very well. Quartermaster, got a set and drift yet?”
“Tide’s behind us, your honour. About a knot and a half.”

The bridge was full of radar consoles, helm, engine-order telegraph, plotting table. Two leather chairs grew from pedestals to the left and right. Neither was occupied at the moment. In the space left over, a dozen men and women stood or bent over gear. Officers in khakis or blues and foul-weather jackets. Enlisted personnel in blues, some more shabby and faded. Most wore white caps, the chiefs wearing bills on theirs like the officers. Two of the windows were latched up. The faintly chilly bright wind blew steadily in through them. The carrier moved through the open waters ahead. A thick sense of missing his home welled up in him which he suppressed angrily.

The Captain of the Serpentis, Arabella Ephraim, was a tall strong bodied woman with a handsome alert face who was at the center of things, but she and Rear-Admiral Eglesias were sharing the two chairs and directing the ship. The Admiral, he gathered, was more interested in coordinating the fleet. Nikos felt a bit lonely and uncertain—he didn’t know what to do. The other staff looked down on him for being a new boy—he had heard Lieutenant Ink, the Admiral’s Assistant operations Commander, scornfully say “What use is a midshipman as an aide?”

What use indeed? To please his mother. He should be on a frigate or something. He now realized that being top of his class meant little here. His role when he was more active was secretarial mostly.

The fleet maintained a circular pattern—the amphibious ships and carrier in the idle like a target,. The widest ring was the carrier’s air patrol. The drones were out the farthest, 200 klicks away, with the fighters and helicopters within that and to 50 klicks. Then it descended to the frigates and destroyers and the cruiser.




D Company, 4th Marine Infantry Regiment
NENS Iphigenia

Colonel Prince Hiram Pileser, Lieutenant-Colonel Hadarezer,
Captain Micah “Tabernacle” Joram, Captain Isaac Bedan, Lieutenant Jeremiah Magdiel
and Ensign Esau Jepthah stood to the rear of one hundred and fifty Marine Infantry. Jepthah looked green, his tall handsome figure not so handsome with a look of constant nausea on his face.



“Your target—splash, to port of the wake.” Magdiel snapped.

“Left, left left—on!” reported Corporal Shimei in his gravely voice.

“Range, four hundred and opening.” Magdiel barked.

D Company was firing for practice from the fantail. Shimei’s face, dark and closed-off under the lip of a helmet, hunched itself into the sight of the mortar. Sweat gleamed and trickled down the back of his neck. “Left more,” he barked, then “Pull two bags—two—ready—”

Behind him the team jerked into sudden furious activity behind the sky-slanted barrel. Rafael spun the lid from a green plastic tube and slid out a shell. His fingers ripped at the foot-long cylinder. He threw the detached packets to the deck, away from the muzzle, and thrust the readied round at Joseph. Joseph hefted it to the sunlight, checking the powder and fuse, hooked his finger in the pin and yanked it free; pulled free the retaining clamp; balanced the round poised, his eyes on the main gunner. “Half-load,” he shouted, as loud as he could. Shimei jerked away from the eyepiece and pulled off the sight, cradled it to his chest.

“Fire.”

Joseph opened his hand. The round left his glove and began to slide, scraping down into the tube like fingernails down a wall, and he ducked his face for the baseplate, thinking hunchback, clapping his hands over his ears under his helmet.

Thump. Part cork pulled from a bottle, part the toll of a gigantic bell, the muzzle blast banged his helmet awry and slapped his face. He bobbed up, grabbing the next round, and then froze. The others had their heads back, eyes high to the sky over the helicopter deck, watching as, far and small, the finned dot halted. They said in mortar school that you could only see that from two places: where you launched, or (God help you) where the nine-and-a-half-pound 82 mm high-explosive projectile was about to land.

They gazed upward through a long hot ear-ringing instant. Far below the suspended projectile the sea gleamed and heaved in silvery silence, bright with sun under briefly parting cumulus. Five hundred meters out from the ship a gray splash of smoke and water was dying back into it, the spotting round second squad had just fired, and which they were using now as target for live-fire drill. The whirling dot hung suspended, a black star, and they watched for the whole aching instant that it took to decide for sea or sky.

It decided, and began to fall. They lost it, but a moment later it reappeared in an abrupt vertical plume of dirty foam and smoke, well short in range of the first. The detonation, sea-muffled, tickled their ringing eardrums.

“Ready again?” Sergeant Garbos said, squatting down beside Shimei, who had removed a hand from the sight to wipe sweat from his cheek. It was hot and still on the open deck. The wind had dropped early that morning and now the intense, almost Acheronian heat was wringing sweat from them under the heavy utility jackets. “That last was a little short.”

“Blaspheming tub was pitching,” grunted Corporal Shimei, screwing his eye once more into the sight. “Crazy blaspheming drill, shootin’ into the water … ready! Right, right, down down down fire!”

The ringing this time was louder, smacking him on the head like an angry teacher. (though his teacher—the last one—had enver been angry. Always sweet, generous…NO, do not think of her!) He lifted his head to see the projectile dwelling high, too high. Like the black angel, he thought, the one they said came at the moment of death; and this angel, too, hesitated, looking down for the man whose name she carried, and then winked off as it gathered speed.

It was so simple, Joseph thought, as he did each time they fired the mortar. Beautiful in its simplicity. The mortar was nothing but a steel tube, closed at the bottom. There was not a moving part in it, nothing to foul or jam. You dropped in the shell, gravity took it down to impact on the fixed pin, and the bags of powder carried on the round itself fired and propelled it up, out, in a long curve toward what you never thought of as men but only as a target. He was remembering the geometrics in the math book when the plume leapt upward, far beyond the others, out on the rolling smooth horizon; and his helmet made a hollow hock as Shimei’s gloved fist came off it. “Hey, you blaspheming heretic! What the raping hell you dreamin’ about? That blaspheming shell—neither of you retarded homos touched the charge!”

“You didn’t say to, Corporal!”

“No order, Private, then it’s the same setting as before,” Sergeant Garbos shouted, equally loud, into his opposite ear. Joseph felt suddenly excited, sexually aroused. The shouting noncoms, Rafael’s scared acned face, the firing-range stink of burnt propellant, all woke him into a sudden sense that he was here, he was alive, all this was real. Then Garbos cuffed his helmet and he grabbed for the next round out of the pile of opened tubings, snarling, twisted off two of the waxed cotton bags himself, not waiting for the ammo handler, and poised it trembling above the mouth of the mortar. Along the deck Magdiel yelled, “Get those rounds out there, Garbos!” and Shimei laid his cheek to the sight and Linos twisted the elevation knob and Joseph heard the command and shoved the round down, hit the gritty hot steel of the deck; the air banged. “Forget watching it, you ass lover!” screamed Garbos in his ear. “That’s the gunner’s job. Do yours and we’ll get hits.” Rafael thrust another round into his hands, smooth metal, the yellow-striped olive drab of live explosive, a ten-pound egg finned like a fat arrow. A machine gun stuttered from behind him, farther along the deck, rattling cases out from the smoking receiver as the riflemen took their turns at familiarization firing.

“Right … down … fire!”
BANG
“Fire!”

The mortar tolled again. As each round went out, the baseplate, thirty pounds of cast iron, leaped up an inch from its cushion of sandbags.

Another stutter from the 7.62 sewed sound into the hot air of the afterdeck. “Rounds complete,” roared Garbos in Lieutenant Magdiel’s direction. “Permission to fire small arms, your honour?”

“You may, Sergeant. One magazine apiece. Get your men aft of the safety line before you issue ammo.” Magdiel said coolly. Joseph had to admire this; it was like the man was actually bored.

“Amen, your honour.”

The riflemen unslung their weapons, their faces lighting, and ducked under the line roped across the deck to join the squad that was already aiming with care and futility at a fifty-five-gallon drum bobbing back in the slow wake of the ship. Joseph looked across at Shimei. The corporal was drawing his pistol, the only hand weapon the mortarmen carried. He drew his, too and accepted a half-full box of ball from the armorer, who was hovering behind the firing line with his ear protectors bulky atop a shaven head. Joseph’ fingers trembled as he jammed rounds between the sharp lips of the magazine, and then he stepped to the deckedge, let the slide bang forward, and began to squeeze off slugs. After the mortar the pistol made a puny crack, like a child whacking a cheap drum. The riflemen fired, spewing tinkling brass out across the deck, where it rolled slowly with the ship, drifting up against the footlockers. Shimei fired rapidly, the automatic kicking up into the sky at each shot, his eyes squeezed so tight Joseph wondered how he could see. The machine gunners cried out to each other, cursing at a jam, and flipped up feed mechanisms, slapped in a new belt. A faulty cartridge glittered end over end to disappear into the sea. Blue powder haze drifted over the churning wake, red arches of tracer burning holes into it. The armourer, eyes on the lieutenant, furtively passed out more ammunition as the clamor slackened and men glanced back, their rifles smoking empty.

“CEASE FIRE AFT,” came over the deck loudspeakers. “CEASE FIRE AFT. ALL MARINE INFANTRY PERSONNEL LAY FORWARD TO THE CRANE AREA.”

“Get back, men, back,” shouted Magdiel

“Raping officers,” Shimei said, out loud.

“You’ll lose those stripes if you can’t keep your stupid mouth shut, Shimei,” warned the platoon sergeant out of the side of his mouth in a hiss.

Forward on the ship, two decks above them, Joseph saw the squids lean forward on their metal bucket seats. The twin slim barrels of the ship’s guns pivoted suddenly toward him, serpent-swift, the ringing of an electric bell accompanied by a prolonged clanking of mechanism. A sailor silhouetted himself against a cloud, lifting a pointed round, slamming it down into a hopper.

“Get back, you stupid sons of slavers,” the Sergeant-Major shouted.

The big gun fired, incredibly loud, first one barrel, then the other, and then the first again in a continuous blast of sound and orange fire. Brown smoke blotted out the whole port side and blew down on them, cordite smell and fluttering bits of paper filler like holiday confetti. The gun clanked and banged and fired, BLAM … BLAM … BLAM … BLAM. The noise slammed at his ears, sucked air from his lungs, and far aft the sea around the untouched drum erupted in black smoke and boiling spray.

“Shit,” shouted Mordecai, beside him, his narrow, red-splotched face intense. “Shoot that raper! That’s the kind of gun the Regiment ought to have.”

“You want to hump it ashore, Solomon?”

“They better save some of that shit. We might need it.”

“This tub is packed with the stuff. And them destroyers carry more. Bigger, too—five-
inch.”

Still enthusiastic, they carried their hot weapons back belowdecks when the firing was over. “We ought to fire this sucker more often,” Mordecai said, rolling the baseplate to a halt against the bulkhead like a mechanic with a spare tire. “Even at sea—there’s something gets you about firing a mortar. A lot more than a rifle. But an eighty-one—”

“Quit playing with that, Solomon. It’s a weapon, not a toy.”

“Yeah, I know. Joseph—” he paused, the elation ebbing from his face, replaced by a worried frown that Joseph, remembering Terpsichore, thought he had seen before, at Lucilla’s brothel there. He felt a sense of shame and lust remembering his leave.

There was talk among the men as they collected brass and stowed cartridges about where they were going and what they were doing. Some of the stupider troops were not entirely clear on who they might be fighting, and thought they were going to get vengeance upon the Ashabis. The smarter ones laughed at them and told them to learn to read a map. Others thought they would fight the Chacos, and then were told that the Chacos were friends now. “It’s Vionna-Frankenlisch. Their king insulted our King-Emperor, remember?”
This was all cleared up by School Call..

“Good morning, men.”

“Good morning, Your Honour,” they chorused like children.

“Now: the first thing we gathered you here to talk about,” Captain Bedan began, after they had settled again to the hard deck, padding it with rolled shirts of lifejackets from a rack or even just their hands, “was a couple of things the ship’s captain has been passing on to us. We’re their guests here, you know, and when we’re here he acts as senior even to the Regimental Commander.

“So it pays us to keep them happy and be good guests. Remember, guest-right is a sacred thing.

“The first thing is cleanliness. Not personal cleanliness—I know you all are doing the best you can considering the shortage of fresh water—but cleanliness of the ship. This is our home, and we’ve got to keep it clean. There’ve been too many butts found around, in the passageways, in the urinals, even up on the signal bridge. The Navy says they don’t throw butts on the deck, it must be the marines.”

The troops groaned. Bedan glared at them and they subsided, “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But I want you all to know that cleanliness has got to be a habit, a way of life, here aboard the Iphigenia. That begins in the troop spaces, and goes wherever you go in the ship.…”

The captain droned on, and the men listened, lolling around the deck, most of them somewhere else inside their heads. The older troops had heard it all on floats before, knew that no matter how often they policed up, every piece of crap the Navy boys found would be blamed on them. To the sailors the embarked marines were cargo, not unlike carrying a herd of cattle battened down in their pens below deck, and the marines returned their contempt with interest. They insulted each other and stole from each other, fought when they were ashore, and only the officers, who had to eat in the wardroom, repeated the fiction that they were all in the same service. The marines knew they were not in the Navy. Bunch of damned whores in silly stripe vested sailor suits. But it was also not as simple as that; they haggled and gambled, attended chapel together in this complex and segregated floating town.

More seriously, Captain Bedan explained the mission to them. He played a broadcast of the King of Vionna-Frankenlisch’s words, translated, and then paraphrased them. He spoke sternly of the grave insults and the veiled threats, the mustering of foreign forces south of Dengali and near Damoclea, of the ingratitude and the connivance to plot to surround New Edom with foes from Regensburg, the Cossacks and Solisians. “We are going to New Columbia,” explained Captain Bedan, “To teach them a lesson, uphold our nation’s honour, and demonstrate that the King-Emperor is not lightly provoked to wrath.”

“… That said, I’m going to turn you over to the Sergeant-Major for the afternoon lecture. Sergeant-Major Askelon.”

“Small-unit tactics,” thundered the Company Sergeant-Major, and the men relaxed again. Book drill. This they had all, even the recruits, heard dozens of times before through long dozing afternoons. They could have predicted each of the sergeant’s sentences as he talked in a steady hoarse shout, going through it all, line by line, as if he had memorized it somewhere back in the years and it had never changed a syllable. Fire-team formations, skirmishing lines, hand signals and how to pass them along. Digging entrenchments. Camouflage. Movements, contact, conduct of battle, consolidation and reorganization. Joseph, his head tilted back against a reel of hose, stared up at the maze of pipes and sprinklers and lights that lined the overhead like stenciled filigree.

He was thinking about playing his guitar.

The skill was coming back. His fingers remembered it like the scars in his dark-lined palms remembered the timber hooks. He had never thought much about music before. It was the books that had fascinated him with their abstruseness, their logic, the hints they held of a wider, fuller life. But now that had changed. It was not that he no longer cared about finishing school. He did, he wanted to be an educated man. But music was different. He couldn’t tell what fascinated him about it, but there it was. A certain Adiran teacher, way back now and then drifted like haunting smoke in his thoughts. Like nearly all soldiers in the Regiment he now and then fantasized about the Heir, but unlike Damoclean or Peregrino bumpkins he knew it was just a fantasy. If he stood in front of her he’d just stammer like an idiot. Like he had with his teacher.

His fingers moved against the rough fabric of his blouse, strumming out an inaudible chord, and he blinked sightlessly at the overhead.

“… And last, remember your gas mask. Take care of it like you take care of your penis. You men carry rubbers? Think of your mask that way. If you need it, you’ll need it quick, and you won’t be able to borrow your comrade’s, ’cause he’ll be using his.”

They laughed dutifully, then quieted as Askelon turned the lecture back to the officer. His first words made them sit up.

“Remember this: the people of San Carlo and Chaco are our friends, friends to our Monarchs, and they are Christians to boot. The people of New Columbia are colonists of Vionna-Frankelisch, and our enemies. We are going to go and destroy their port and smash their towns and pound them into submission. They wanted the best troops for this, so the King-Emperor asked for us. In the name of God, we are going to war. This regiment is among the very best, and we’re going to show them how we fight, fiiends and foes alike. God bless their Majesties!”

Even Shimei got a bit puff-chested at that. He might gripe about officers, but everyone loved at least one of the monarchs and respected the other.

“That’s all. Take charge and dismiss the men, Sergeant-Major.”

“Yes Your Honour! Company. Ten-SHUN! Dismissed.”

The Marine Infantry chattered like excited children as they broke up. Garbos and Shimei went off to the NCOs’ mess to get some food and talk away from their children.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22923
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Sat Sep 14, 2019 11:33 pm

Skies Over Southern Haran Province

Soundtrack

Weather ranged from high 26 Celsius to 19, with winds at 12kph, and below the spread out air convoy, the ground below was brown, grey and yellow dusted with cirrus clouds. Here and there were angular long lines of roads and rail lines, and now and then differing geometric arrangements of towns and villages and farms.

Far in advance of the E-15 AWACS were the Blackfly UAVs, each spread over about 70 klicks, to act as the closest guards, tracking whatever objects came within their range, guided by their teams back at Gone AFB. The AWACS had a 750 kilometer range for high altitude targets, medium sized targets such as the F-15, and 520km for low altitude targets while operating at its operational Altitude. The Radar had a built in system designed to filter out ground clutter, such as cars, and other metallic objects, allowing it to detect low flying aircraft without all of the clutter from none important ground contacts. This allowed for the aircraft;s crew to focus on low flying aircraft, and follow them to the best of their ability.

The RM-30s themselves were capable of communicating with GM-24 fighters, in which the RM-30s transmitted their radar signals to the fighters, allowing them all to see off the RM-30's radar screen.

Their intention was to reach the Edomite EEZ south of Haran, and within 50 KM of that to begin refueling, then to speed on towards their target zones. This would enable them to be well within their combat range for the operation. Right now they were just ferrying.

All around them, however, the border and nautical and air patrol zones were being alerted, in expectation of possible reprisals or even an outright attack. Information was to be fed to them by any intel gathered that might change the possible situation ahead...
Last edited by New Edom on Sat Sep 14, 2019 11:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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Republica De Gran Chaco
Diplomat
 
Posts: 509
Founded: Jun 29, 2015
Right-wing Utopia

Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Sun Sep 15, 2019 10:55 pm

Southern San Carlo

The Blackhawk dropped and Corporal Leandro Reyes gripped his rifle tighter as the helicopter settled down against the side of the hill. The way that the bird was situated made Leandro nervous. The helicopter hovered with the hillside off to its left. The rotors seemed inches from the side of the hill, and the right side of the bird dropped off into the valley below. The eleven men in the Blackhawk piled out of the side and kept their heads down until the helicopter could move clear away from them.

The group scrambled up the hillside and spread out into the trees taking cover until the sound of the chopper faded into the distance. Sergeant Roberto Abellán did a check in on the radio, before ordering the squad to begin moving in a staggered column. Leandro as one of the fire team leaders, and the second highest ranking man in the squad, was second to last. He wasn’t a huge fan of the spot because he could never see what was happening during halts, but he waited quietly as everyone began moving out. When the man in front of him was ten meters away, he began moving forward.

The squad marched in silence scanning the woods and scrub brush that were around them. They were not hiking on a trail, and stayed high up on the hill, but avoided the crest so they would not silhouette themselves against the sky. The steep hillside was a bit more than Leandro was used to training at home, and he began sweating after some time under his heavy pack. The squad came to the spot where the squad leader thought appropriate and began rounding the hill very carefully.

They were on their way to act as a blocking force for an enemy that was out there and had been spotted by some of the LRRPs that were also in on this exercise. The OPFOR of this training mission was a group of Carlano Infantrymen that were instructed to go out in their trucks and patrol this area of the mountains for an enemy incursion.

The Blackhawks had flown low, and used the topography as best they could to drop off Leandro’s platoon on the back side of hills, to block off likely movement routes of the Carlano company that was patrolling. The other two platoons were to act as the aggressors and through direct action either pin the Carlanos to a firefight for Leanro’s men to move in from the rear, or else flush them into the waiting ambushes.

The Sergeant Abellan halted just before the spot, and had the men spread out and prepare defensive scrapes in the ground on the hillside. The men did this behind trees or other scrub brushes that would conceal the freshly dug earth that would stand out to someone looking closely. Leandro settled in and checked that a blank round was seated in the chamber of his Galil. He waited whole the sergeant did a radio check informing the platoon leader that he was in position.

Leandro looked across the little road that separated the hillsides and spotted one of the other squads about three hundred yards away. He was happy they were there, but still felt awfully alone, though it really wasn’t any worse than a fire force mission, except they were only in four-man teams in those.




Felipe’s jeep driver finally found the company on patrol in their M113s. They had been searching the hills for about an hour. When he found the column, he ordered everyone to halt while he got out of the jeep and walked to his command vehicle. Felipe nodded to the man with a clipboard acting as an umpire for the exercise. He banged on the back hatch for them to open it and looked inside. His executive officer was in his spot, “Lieutenant, you may resume your duties, I am here to take command.”

“Yes sir.” The Lieutenant said rather sulkily and exited the vehicle.

Felipe smirked as the man walked past, “Don’t take it so hard Manolo, I’ll buy you a drink after all of this.”

Right when Felipe was about to enter his vehicle, he heard the sound of several helicopters in the hills ahead. He clambered in and got onto the radio to the other vehicles, “I heard the bastards, they are near. Column advance!”

Felipe took a heavy swig from his brandy canteen as the vehicles moved ahead. The First Sergeant looked miserable, then finally told Felipe, “Captain, should we dismount and begin advancing on foot? We could spread out and try have the vehicles support us from behind.”

Felipe glared at him, “I’ll tell you what we are going to do sergeant, we are going to have the men dismount. You take a scouting party, and then we will follow. I want everyone else to form a perimeter.”

“Sir, we are a bit exposed on this road here, shouldn’t we…” The first sergeant began.

“Do as I say sergeant.” Felipe said sternly.

The first sergeant got everyone out and ordered them to go out among the trees. Most of the men went and sat about smoking and laughing. These were middle class boys with connections that got them into a fine-looking unit like the congressional guards, and the reserves at that. A wonderful thing to put on a resume, and they looked so very handsome in their uniforms for all the beautiful señoritas, but they rarely trained in a serious matter, just enough to be competent with their equipment and vehicles.

The first sergeant took a squad and led them out climbing the hillside a way to avoid being on the road. He looked back sadly at the column of M113s sitting there. Felipe climbed up to the roof of his vehicle and laid back and nodded off. His first sergeant returned somewhat out of breath reporting that he had heard movement in the hills coming their way, and that he thought that he had been spotted.

Felipe sat up and grinned. He ordered first platoon on the hillside to his right, and second on the hillside on his left. Third platoon would lead out next to the road in front of the vehicles with the weapons teams spread out among the company, “There, we should be able to sweep up those ragamuffins now.”

The men began moving forward, and Felipa ordered his gunner to duck inside the vehicle so he could swing his legs in the turret from the top and lean against the .50. The first pops of blanks came soon, and Felipe struggled to see anything. The firing became more intense, and Felipe racked the charging handle on the big machine gun, he ducked down and grabbed the radio handset, “I want reports, what is going on!”

The RTO inside, said that the platoon leaders had all reported over the radio, that they were engaged.

“Shut up.” Felipe said, “I know that, I want to know where and how many. I’ll just have to ask myself.”

The responses over the radio sounded excited and confused, and didn’t give him much information. He stood up again in the turret and began spraying the hillside to cover his men with the machine gun. A call on the radio from one of the umpires with the CLI made an umpire walk up and mark the lead M113 with a red panel signifying that it had been taken out with a rocket. Felipe ordered his driver to back up as he continued firing bursts at trees with the M2.

The driver backing up bumped the vehicle behind who didn’t know they needed to move causing those inside to lurch back. Soon there were little flashes pointed out behind Felipe, and he swung the turret around.

“I’m out!” He called down to the very bored and very disappointed gunner who sat on a seat with his arms crossed.

The gunner unhappily handed up another box of ammunition. As Felipe was struggling to remember how to reload the big machine gun, he was told that his vehicle and everyone inside had been knocked out. Felipe cursed and began screaming at the gunner for not getting him the ammunition in time.




By the time Leandro’s squad had moved into position the main force had been heavily engaged. He had swung the dumby AT-4 off of his pack and took careful aim, making sure that the umpire saw him. When the little pop happened, the umpire radioed the first hit. Leandro let out a cheer like a great war hero, and then began firing his rifle at the confused men in the trees below him.

Another man with an AT-4 did the same and got the second hit. He cheered as well. The Machine gunners in the squad happily fired down bursts at the rear of the platoon they had surrounded, and soon everything was over.

The men all gathered down by the vehicles to shake hands and to remind each other that they were allies and that they were sharpening each other’s skills. In fact, apparently the Carlano company had advanced quite enthusiastically and had given the CLI sweeping force a good amount of casualties since they were outnumbered. The tide turned when the CLI third platoon hit them in the rear and began taking out vehicles and confusing the Carlanos who began breaking discipline. The Carlano Captain looked very unhappy that he had been killed, but congratulated his men on their fighting spirit.

Later that evening, the first sergeant addressed the men that they had done well in taking out a mechanized force, but they had been sloppy and lucky. That wasn’t a guarantee for a light infantry unit, and the casualties the took would have been felt. Overall, he was proud that they had done this without artillery or air support, but that he was going to have them march a mile full pack in the mountains for every man killed or wounded on that exercise. The men groaned and then were dismissed to go and clean weapons and shower before bed.
كان التيز سمين

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New Edom
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Postby New Edom » Mon Sep 16, 2019 9:14 pm

NENS Serpentis


Lieutenant Glaucon was on the observation deck with a poncho on, hood back, and peered out the window. The window kept beading with water rapidly that moved in long snaking streaks, the wipers moving frantically.


“Dirty weather, Excellency,” he remarked, glancing over his shoulder at Admiral Eglesias, who had just come up from the CIC.


“Warm winds blowing up from the southern Your Honour,” remarked Chief Signalman Hodesh.

The Admiral nodded. Unlike when the King-Emperor was commanding his carrier task force, he encouraged his men and women to drink coffee and tea when standing watch as long as they took care with instruments. The CIC was off limits for that, but the observation deck was another matter. The sailors and the two officers on the observation deck were quiet a bit, savouring the moment. Below, on the flight deck, it was almost deserted, like a town square during a storm. Beyond, the waters rolled, grey and scattered with waves that peaked with windsweeping spray.

They could not see any of the other vessels, nor their CAP except for the blurry shape of one of the helicopters returning from its patrol.


“They must be shaking like a dog’s balls on a rabbit hunt,” offered Hodesh.


“Ha!” barked Admiral Eglesias. “Nice one, Chief. Good practice though. Do them good.”


Operation Harvest
2nd Air Division Expedition
Gulf of Dengali


Soundtrack

High above the shark and tide riddled waters, Lieutenant-Colonel Lzar Zadek, a veteran air tanker pilot with service in 5 conflicts, was flying the T-65 flight, refueling the GM-24 Caballeros.

"20…15…10…," said Zadek into his headset, eyes fixed on the T-65's refueling boom as it inches towards the receiver. With a jolt the planes connect, the T-65 shaking slightly for an instant as the flying machines touched.

“Contact,” he reported with satisfaction.

“Amen,” replied Major Joppa from the cockpit of his Caballero.

“It’s like watching a water buffalo bull mating,” said Major Shoen’s navigator, grinning.

“Like an eagle raping a swallow,” said her copilot.

Major Shoen yawned. “Or it is like two planes refueling. Think of the Monarchs we serve. Would our tender hearted and pious Queen-Empress appreciate such dirty talk? Or the King-Emperor? Imagine they are always with us, and over their shoulders peers the Lord.”

The cockpit of the lead RM-30 fell silent. The bombers keep moving; the escorts would relay by flights to stay caught up.

“Dengali,” remarked Captain Engeddi, one of the Caballero pilots. “What a filthy place.”

“With enough roach spray, get rid of the Deadoran witches. They’re next.” replied Joppa.

“Amen.” chorsued several other pilots.

Soon they would be on to their goal, the mark point to launch the attack. They would go radio silent from that point, relying on passive radars to stay in contact, minimizing their communications...
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Postby Cossack Khanate » Tue Sep 17, 2019 8:41 am

Fort Khan

The time between when the order came down from the Imperator to mobilize and when the 2000-odd troops actually boarded the 18 lightly armed cargo ships waiting for them was a hectic one. The cargo ships had been sailed in from Port Surendra, and an escort was being prepared. The Akvavit Strike Group, an aircraft-carrier based battlegroup, was positioned in the Gulf of Deodara. Several other ships from Fort Khan had already arrive, including FK-18, a low-lying ship that would carry 5 Kuruvi fighters below deck.

Konzul-General Rihat Dewstaad stood on the docks, pacing back and forth and barking at men to finish loading up the ships. Centurion Ari Abdullov stood nearby, clearly disappointed at the takeover of the force by Dewstaad. The last of the generous munitions and supplies, as well as the men, had been loaded onboard. Two escort gunships, the CRNF Shallow and the CRNF Sword of Hermanier, were moored in port. The Shallow was to be the forward scout boat, armed with 3 turrets of three 3-inch guns each, and an assortment of machine guns and mortars. A single ASH-12 Buzzer Light Helicopter rested on the decks of both vessels. The Shallow was a swift boat, but wouldn’t stand too much of a fight against a destroyer.

The Sword of Hermanier was named after the seaside town of Hermanier close to the Khanate - Lazodiria border. The Sword was a fable in which descendents of a French diaspora in Cossack lands (during the rise of the Cornellian Empire) and the natives fought back a strong Cornellian siege. Despite the weak barricades crumbling to enemy artillery, the Governor of the town led a final breakout charge by drawing his unique cavalry sword, hence the eventual mystification of the sword. The Sword was much more apt to face a battle, armed with 2 turets of two five-inch guns each, automatic grenade launchers, heavy machine guns, mortars, and the standard small arms locker. It also had 4 VLS cells, from which it could launch anti-ship missiles. It’s crew had all been recruited from the Marines in the last few days, and they took great pride in being above the “petty” Navy sailors.

The Shallow was undocking, it’s captain yelling orders and it’s sailors rushing to complete them. The rest of the cargo ships (titled PS 5-23, the Navy didn’t name regular cargo ships) had already left and were beginning to join the Akvavit Strike Group already in the Gulf.

Dewstaad nor Centurion Abdullov were exactly naval experts. They had instead used the King’s direct mobilization order as an excuse to override the theatre command structure, pulling one of the top Admirals they could find out of Ram province and onto the Akvavit. This Admiral’s name was Admiral Nikhil Rao, a man in his late fifties who had seen several skirmishes at sea already. As the convoy of ships left port, the two officers boarded an ASH-12 and flew over the short distance to the Akvavit, where they were enthusiastically greeted by airmen, sailors, and the Admiral.

Several hours later

The convoy crossed into what they assumed to be friendly Solisan waters, and the commanding officers hoped that there would be no untoward incidents as they slid between Solisan holdings on the Deodaran peninsula and one of it’s islands, which they predicted would occur in about two hours. Once that happened, they would be out of reach of all help from the Cossack mainland. Navally speaking, at least…

ORBAT (Naval)

* CRNF Akvavit - Aircraft Carrier, Garnele-class (Carrier Strike Group, Akvavit Strike Group)
* CRNF Kotuku - Haifisch Destroyer (ASG)
* CRNF Maris - Haifisch Destroyer(ASG)
CRNF Matsya - Type Kairyu SSN (ASG)
CRNF Kajira - Type Kairyu SSN (ASG)
CRNF Balasali - Type 67 Frigate (ASG)
ASG - A1 - Engelhai Merchant Ship (ASG, oiler)

PS 5-23 cargo ships
FK-18 cargo ship
CRNF Shallow
CRNF Sword of Hermanier
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Postby Cossack Khanate » Tue Sep 17, 2019 3:41 pm

Hours later

Fort Tirusulam, Aziv Province

Air Commodore Divya Patel was having a terribly stressful day. A pilot under her command had snuck off base early morning to meet his friends, at least a quarter of her planes were in various states of needing repair, and her email inbox (generously provided by the CRAF) was dangerously overcrowded with emails from subordinates and superiors alike. She rubbed her face in frustration and sorted through the dozen-odd messages. Her mind almost wandered elsewhere until she saw the seal of the MoD at the top of a message and the FROM address of the sender.

Her spirits rose as she read the message, and she barely remembered to close her computer before rushing out to summon her airmen…

Ministery of Defense, Selvik

Minister Ghatak was not a young nor upbeat man. Almost constantly solemn, but always effective, the general was at least respected if not loved by his subordinates.

This specific day, however, he was filled with energy. Years of preparation and training of soldiers were finally about to be put to use. And as an apt politician as well as a military commander, Ghatak believed that more power came from conflict. If you won, that is.

Ghatak made his way up the few stone stairs of the Ministry building and through the revolving glass doors. Glass, which of course, was reinforced and was guarded on both sides by armed guards.

The guards in question promptly saluted as the Minister passed the reception desk and stepped inside a waiting elevator, which took him up to the 7th floor. He walked to the large double doors at the end of the short hallway, which led into his spacious office.

Once in, Ghatak threw off his blazer and hung on a hook nearby his desk. The defence minister had already received his orders, albeit he had his own improvisation on the orders. He sat at his computer and began to compose a letter to the nations he knew were defending the Frankenlischians.

The formalities in the receiver’s address would be managed by lower bureaucrats, but the material of the letter was composed by the Minister himself.

Official Communique of the Ministry of Defense
From: Minister Jarl Ghatak, Ministry of Defense Cossack Khanate

To: Appropriate ministers or equivalent, of Vionna-Frankenlisch and Solisia
CC: (Nation that is not addressed)

Dear Minister,

As a first, I do regret not having written to you under brighter circumstances, as neighbors we should have been inclined to communicate more often. However, the regional military situation demands that we cooperate to defend our nations and our national interests. As I write this, the order of about 2000 land and air soldiers, as well as scores of sailors, vehicles, and vessels are heading to the Port of Frankenlisch (or perhaps a more suited port, which may be decided at the Frankenlischian’s discretion). I have no doubt that the conflict that originated as words between Monarchs will eventually culminate in war. My sole wish in the upcoming conflict is for us to suffer as minimal losses as possible.

I believe the best way to do this is to coordinate our defenses and offenses, in a manner that will maximize the efficiency and strong points of our forces, while minimizing the weaker aspects of our forces. It is for this purpose that I ask for you to remain in contact with me, and if needed arrange for a joint meeting between our ministries. Furthermore, I ask not only for safe passage through Solisan waters for the Cossack convoy, but if possible a Solisian air base at which we could land and refuel before starting the journey further south, and I do not have any doubt that the Frankenlisch Navy will be at its highest performance as the Cossack naval forces join them to defend His Majesty King James’ realm.

Highest order of good health and fortune to you

Sincerely,

Jarl Ghatak


Ghatak, solemnly satisfied, called in a junior secretary and told him to address it and send it to the Ministries of Defense in both Frankenlisch and Solisia. Soon after he had left, a tall man paid him a visit. A tall man wearing a general’s uniform with an oval-ish shape and a standard-issue pistol at a hip holster.

Ghatak stood as a sign of respect and saluted, as did the other man.

“Please, sit down Commissioner” said Ghatak.

Commissioner of War Indrajit Gadhavi took the invitation and sat in a chair opposite the minister.

“Wanted to discuss our overall goals in this campaign, Minister”, said Gadhavi, bluntly.

“Of course,” replied Ghatak.

“I suppose you’ve already written to Solisia and Frankenlisch?”

“Indeed, just sent it down to the bureaucracy”, said Ghatak, referring to the complex of assistants and secretaries that worked under the few main brains of the MoD.

Gadhavi clasped his hands together on the large desk and leaned on it. He was a unique character, utterly ruthless and deceitful towards foes (both national and personal) yet an amiable and loyal friend. A lengthy scar on his neck was just visible above the black collar of his uniform.

“If this situation didn’t have Frankenlisch on the table, I would have certainly taken the Strait of Anjali and crushed those nasty Deodarans on the other side”, said the Commissioner, frowning in disgust. “But we can’t afford to have a threat on borders right now, even a measly one like our neighbor here.”

There was a brief pause before Gadhavi started again. “Obviously, no nation fights a war without having a benefit from winning. So, I suggest we should be prepared to take advantage of the situation if such an opportunity arises. Especially in Ayaca”

The Minister was no stranger to Gadhavi’s Machiavellian thinking (of course he had never read the man that everyone called Machiavelli, only heard of his policies. Perhaps he was a man from a different time). Ghatak simply nodded, and slowly said:

“I suppose we’ve been left out of everything past Gallandia for a while now”

“I couldn’t agree more”, came the reply.
Last edited by Cossack Khanate on Tue Sep 17, 2019 3:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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New Edom
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Postby New Edom » Tue Sep 17, 2019 9:39 pm

Blood From Stone Hunting Camp
The Edomite Border


The two sets of guards eyed one another defiantly. The statuesque Kehrahni women with their horsehair scarlet plumes, leotards cut high on svelte hips and cut to a shadow of the splendid bosoms, stood, gloved hands resting on blade pommels, rifles slung, idearms encased in sleek leather, high boots adding to their height. They suspiciously and coldly eyed the kepi hatted parade dress wearing Royal Cavalry Guards armed with their Kalashnikovs, which were slung, and their own bayonets and pistols which were a heavier caliber than that of the women opposing them. The Kehrahni commander, Sub-Matriarch Alessia Crendro, paced, hips swaying like a panther’s arching muscles, hot eyes gazing into the eyes of Count Jonas Falk, who stood like a statue, a look of frozen contempt on his face.

Queen Jada, her long chestnut hair swept back and held in place by a golden and jeweled hair net, wearing an ornate dark leather bustier and thigh length skirt, emerged from her pavilion among the gathered tents of the Kehrahni, and nodded as her guards moved to flank her before approaching the tents of the Edomite Monarch. Princess Vanessa, her elder daughter, followed close behind along with platinum haired, ice eyed War Matriarch Vang.

They found themselves facing the King-Emperor, and there was the barking of many dogs, attendants talking loudly. The Kehrahni instinctively bristled. They had wanted this meeting, and yet seeing so many insolent, proud, independent men, many of them broad, tall, obscenely loud, grated. Vanessa bore a look of contempt and muttered to one of their aides in a low, stupid sounding voice as though she were a talking ape, imitating what she saw as Baran gibberish.

“Oh for a gelding knife, to cut the combs of these cocks,” murmured the young officer back.

"Madam," said the King-Emperor, “I am pleased that, after this ceremony, to tell you that I do intend some sport today. They tell me you have a falcon which surpasses that of any such noble bird carried by many a Monarch or Prince. Today is a clear calm weather. Will you take her out today and show her at a heron or crane?"

“You flatter my falconry,” replied Queen Jada. “I am not fond of delays and ponderings, O King, and I would very much like to talk about Deadora and Jacqueline Thrall.”

But Elijah IV simply stared at her, and in his height and that blank baleful stare was like the conning tower of a great submarine breaking the waves, steely and immovable. “Madame, you and I shall converse, amid hospitality as is the wont of my people. Or do you refuse my hospitality?”

At these words, the women gathered behind Queen Jada had hands fly to knives, and lips tightened, eyes burned, and the gentlemen near the King-Emperor seemed to prick up their ears like the hounds. But Jada forced a smile to her lips. “And what will you fly, O King?”

“I shall fly my eagle” the King-Emperor replied.

So the two courts rode awhile, putting aside apparent conflict and joking and talking of their sport, yet never quite relaxing, barbs never far from lips, eyes never far from watching the other party’s hands. But both parties loved the sport, and so there were cries of encouragement and shouts of joy as Jada had her falcons flown from her fist at many hundred paces as the quarry rose, and mounting with it to the clouds in corkscrew flights, ring upon ring, up and up till the fowl was just a speck in the upper sky, and her falcons two lesser specks beside it. And soon the feathery bodies lay arranged on a canvas by the hunting servants and were stretched and measured.

Later, when they came to the higher ground and the scrub and underwood, then Elijah whistled his eagle off his fist. She flew from him as if she would never have turned her head again, yet presently upon his shout came in; then soaring high waited above his head, till the hounds started a black wild boar out of the brush. As the dogs hurtled towards it, it turned red-eyed and moody-mad on the King's hounds, and charged among them ripping up the leading catch-dog so that her bowels gushed out.Then she swooped sudden as a thunderbolt; and swift as a snake had each of the boar’s eyes out, fixing great claws like knives in its neck. Then the King-Emperor lighted down and helped her with his hunting knife; and so again, thrice and four times till four swine were slain. And that was the greatest sport. Not only his own followers, Unwerth, Merodach, and Geta thumped their saddles and cheered, but so did the women with Jada, who were hot at the sight of blood and violence.

As the boar was being butchered and the dying hound comforted at the last, Jada sought to draw Elijah away a bit.
“My conditions are clear,” she said, staring up into his eyes, resenting that a man towered over her so. “Not one Edomite boot on Kehrani soil, but your air support lent to mine. Let Deadora ravage the socialists in Aedora, we will close our borders to them, and when Jacqueline is fully embroiled, we strike.”

Elijah drew his leather gloves off and tucked them into his belt. “We split the oilfields and industry. Hammer them. Kehrahn is sovereign still. But I am wary, Queen Jada. Many officers in the Deadoran military are Kehrahni. How will the loyalties of your people be guaranteed?”

“Am I a soft hearted Shrailleeni wet nurse?” she said, her words nearly a hiss. “Am I an addled Ghantar? No. I am Jada of Kehrahn. They will follow me, first and foremost. I will not put my rump in the air and bare my neck for Jacqueline. This land is mine.”

“As with a hunt,” said Elijah, “So it is with a war. To this end, then, I will summon 10,000 Air Force and 20,000 Army reserves. Already, Counts Sharra and Lalery are persuading the Chamber of Deputies to consent to the necessary funding of such an endeavor.”

Jada laughed. “And you make airs before me, O King, when you have to go cap in hand to your people to beg them for treasure?”

The King-Emperor said, coldly, “Do not imagine that this is begging. My people are loyal out of faith and love, not merely fear. You have only to look to see how Jennifer Thrall fell merely because she was confined to the palace in whatever her infirmity was, pregnancy or cancer, it does not matter.”

Jada smiled. “Do I offend? I beg your pardon. Nevertheless, we shall be friends and allies. For Kehrahni independence, and the Pax Idumea, yes?”

Their respective followers saw the handclasp take place at a distance.
Last edited by New Edom on Tue Sep 17, 2019 9:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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New Edom
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Postby New Edom » Wed Sep 18, 2019 6:16 am

Operation Harvest
225km from Vionna-Frankenlisch


Soundtrack
It was early morning, about 5 AM in the time zone. The E-15 had by this time hung back 400 klicks from the rest of the force along with the Blackfly UAVs, near the limits of the patrol zone of the combined Edomite-Dengali coast guard force. Two frigates, NENS Tamarzin and Tabardiya, led a Dengali corvette and two Dengali patrol ships spread out over about 100 km. While they had been placed on full alert and were running as though they should expect imminent attack, due to signals security, operational security and radio silence, they would only be alerted as to the actual operation (in case of need for protection and search and rescue) once Harvest was actually launched.

Major Joppa had two fighters hang back in reserve about 70 klicks from the AWACS, and then divided the remainder in front and rear of the bombers, spread out 200 klicks around them to anticipate any ambushes or counterattacks. Below lay the unforgiving seas. Thus far, the AWACS had picked up little but civilian shipping moving fishing vessels or cargo through the waters. Nevertheless, he and his fellow pilots remained alert as hunting hounds, in their buglike helmets listening carefully for any alerts, the tilting sphere of the skies all around them. Passive radar picked up a passenger jet leaving the range of their radar, moving towards Shrailleeni airspace.

Major Shoen and her deputy mission commander, in his own bomber, each had their own set of targets. For the deputy commander, the targeted area was simply the naval port at Frankenlisch itself: the piers, storage areas, and basing. These were fixed targets, not requiring any finesse of intelligence, but intended to cause lasting damage and wound the enemy’s ability to deploy readily. For Major Shoen, it was nearby connecting rail and airfields, to further cripple the enemy’s ability to deploy.

As they reached the demarcation point, Major Shoen spoke softly to her air crew alone:
The end is now upon you,
and I will unleash my anger against you.
I will judge you according to your conduct
and repay you for all your detestable practices.
I will not look on you with pity;
I will not spare you.
I will surely repay you for your conduct
and for the detestable practices among you.
Then you will know that I am the Lord.


“Amen,” echoed the other officers in the cockpit.

“Let us begin,” she said.

The weapons officer carefully plotted the trajectory of the missiles. They were P270 Moskits, a big cruise missile capable of reaching speeds up to Mach 3, carry 120 kt equivalent of TNT with their 300 kg payloads. The bomb bay, using hydraulic arms, required only a brief window of time to open and release. Since they were a larger missile, the rotating system only carried 10 missiles per bomber as opposed to 12.
The bay doors opened, and the first missile was released by the hydraulics. “It’s away,” reported the weapons officer.
“Praise God,” said the copilot. “Fly, darling, fly, like wings of eagles.”
Once away, the missile suddenly exploded into life with a cloud of enveloping smoke and fire and descended down towards the sea, moving low at 20 meters, hurtling towards Vionna-Frankenlisch. It was followed by its siblings one by one, with a dispersal time of several seconds to avoid them striking at the same targets. The attack, therefore, took perhaps four minutes.

Once the last missiles were away, Major Shoen announced the code word for withdrawal: “REAPED. I say again, REAPED.” She almost felt hot tears of excitement fill her eyes, and angrily forced them back; she would not disgrace herself before her crew, but this was the first Air Force mission of such magnitude ever led by a woman.
Do you see me, God of my Fathers? she thought. See how I stand in honour before you, loosing the heavenly arrows towards the enemy! I did not flinch!

“Well done, Major,” said the navigator.

“May I congratulate you,” said her co-pilot.

The RM-30s pivoted and sped for home airspace, followed by their escorts. They anticipated refueling over Dengali. At the same time as this, orders went out to the Dengali Air Force to scramble two flights of multi role fighters, MIG-21s, along with air defense artillery. By this time, the patrolling naval squadron had been alerted, along with the Coastal Defense Force. Army units in southern Haran and Dengali were also ordered to stand to, just in case.

Far off, in Fineberg, Elijah IV, naked in bed, was alerted by a phone call from Count Domris that the attack had been launched. For the first time ever, in great excitement, he took the Queen-Empress in his bed with the lust of the bull he slew each year. It seemed to Mara that his hands were hot as coals on her skin, that his kisses were wild, and that she welcomed him, and that her sorrow was for a short time overwhelmed by the feeling of being desired and beautiful. Great were the bounties of God.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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Cossack Khanate
Diplomat
 
Posts: 602
Founded: May 09, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Cossack Khanate » Wed Sep 18, 2019 12:07 pm

Edmont and Sons Tailoring, Clothiers' Street, Frankenlisch

Lieutenant Jayesh Navin stepped out of the alleyway that led to the temporary office of his unit and onto the roads of Frankenlisch. It had been some time since the events at Cunaris, and he’d rather not be reminded of the carnage there. It seemed like a different world from a different time, his memories of the operation mainly loud noise and blood.

He had promoted to Lieutenant in Cossack Covert Operations (but he had not gotten the chance to travel back to the Khanate for his ceremony), and perhaps the Frankenlischian government had forgotten that they had lent the CCO the office off Clothiers’ Street, but his unit had been working there since the operation. It was mainly remains of the investigation, since many questions had still gone unanswered in the aftermath of the Eldham raid.

He was abruptly shaken from his thoughts as several large booms seemingly shook the ground. Navin whipped around, towards the ports, and his mind was thrown back to his infantry days, the sounds of artillery vibrating through his chest. The Cossack was torn between his curiosity and his fear, both threatening to take over his aging (in a soldier’s view, at least) body. By this time most of what remained of the original 15 men of Unit 17 were on the street, seeing their officer standing agape in the middle of the road…

1st Cossack Naval Convoy, Solisan Waters
Admiral Rao and Konzul-General Dewstaad stood on the upper decks of the CRNF Akvavit, a bit aside from the air crews helping patrol planes to land and takeoff. The bright sun threatened to burn through the sailors’ uniforms, and made the railings hot. Luckily for the officers, they were standing in a bit of shade. The Admiral, in his blue and gold uniform, was carrying a pair of binoculars, and occasionally looked towards the nearest island, a Solisan one. The Akvavit wasn’t leading the convoy; a Type Kairyu SSN, the CRNF Matsya, was doing that, a good distance away, but not too far from the destroyer’s reach. The latter two ships, the Kotuku and the Maris, flanked the Akvavit. A single oiler Engelhai Merchant Ship, the ASG-A1, trailed the aircraft carrier, and the CRNF Balasali, a Type 67 frigate, followed that. Between the gaps sailed the cargo ships, carrying the soldiers who were to participate in the ground defense of Vionna-Frankenlisch, along with an ample supply of ammunitions and supplies, as well as fuel. The CRNF Shallow was sailing alongside the CRNF Sword of Hermanier, ahead of the Akvavit but behind the submarine. Air patrols were flown frequently, A10 Tenrai fighters in the air almost continuously. It was a formidable force to look at...
The Holy Decreeist Empire of Cossack Khanate
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Republica de San Carlo
Attaché
 
Posts: 84
Founded: Mar 10, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Wed Sep 18, 2019 2:14 pm

Southern San Carlo

General Gustavo Del Pozo arrived in Flores to take command of the southern front. Everything was almost complete. The men had been transported with all of their gear and equipment to the front, they had all been organized into sectors, and a large amount of supplies had been deposited into dumps to support an offensive if the need arose. Everyone was getting excited. Nothing had happened to make anyone think the New Columbians were changing anything or backing down.

Gustavo smiled as he saw all the reports coming in everyday looked to be a day closer to glory. A command such as this came around very rarely. The most a general could hope for was a district command where the bandito activity was hot. A few dead peasant criminals looked good for a general, it won him favor, and could get him rich though some questionable transactions.

An actual war time command could set Gustavo for life, and maybe even mean the presidency when he retired. He had called in a favor from the Chief of the Army for this position, and had found that the original favor had been deemed great enough for the posting. Now Gustavo smoked cigars while he looked at maps of New Columbia and waited for the Edomite Marines to land near the capital and to come down by train. They weren’t needed if things got hot, but to show friendship to a power such as New Edom would surely win some supporters when that kind of thing was important in the future.

Gustavo now waited for the Air Force commander to come and meet with him. The overall Air Force command was being headed out of Puerto Barrios, so there was some argument as to who would travel to meet who, but since the Army was the bigger branch, they won that argument. Gustavo would be polite though, their planes would be the ones supporting his troops on the ground. What he really wanted was the Chacano regiments to submit to his overall command, but they had complicated things by insisting that they remain an independent force that would work in tandem with the Carlanos, but under their own overall commander. This irked Gustavo, but he wanted their capabilities, so he did not push the issue yet. He would wait until they were committed fully before he got into that argument.

Still things could be much worse. Gustavo had a nice cigar, the sun was shining, and he was in command of a force that had not been assembled in San Carlo, since their war with the Ashabis decades ago. Life was looking up for the general.

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1719
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Thu Sep 19, 2019 3:45 am

Royal Communique of His Imperial Majesty, King James I
Image
His Imperial Majesty King James Frederik Turrell, the first of his name, King of Vionna-Frankenlisch, Emperor of the Fallen Isles, Grand Imperiator of the Vionna-Frankenlischian Colonies and Dominions beyond the Seas, Elector of Grangenburg, Duly Appointed and Lawfully Elected Governor of Saint Gall, Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Military, Defender of the Andyist Faith and Lord Protector of the Realm.



To: Orleana T'lok, Matriarch of Foreign Affairs, Feminist Empire of Deadora
From: His Imperial Majesty King James I Turrell of Vionna-Frankenlisch
Security: Highest


Dearest Matriarch,

I thank you for your kind correspondence, our noble cousin of Deadora enjoys the height of our respect and your opposition to the dastardly Edomites is surely appreciated. Indeed, your wariness concerning the Shrailleeni and the Ayacan States is noted also. I hope that you might convey my appreciation personally to the Matriarch Empress and assure her of my friendship. As a matter of fact, I believe it would be prudent to offer an envoy of my own Imperial House to act as a liaison between myself and the Matriarch Empress, perhaps my niece, Alice, would be sufficient?

In regards to your most intriguing offer of collaboration, I find the prospect most intriguing. I would have to be sure of Deadoran motives before committing myself to cooperation, of course, but please ensure the Matriarch Empress that our hearts are in the same place. Know that the Empire stands with any who would oppose the Edomite menace.

I await a response with supreme interest and anticipation.

- James Frederick Turrell, King and Imperiator



Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Imperial Palace


His Imperial Majesty, the King, stretched out his arms and sighed, setting down his fountain pen. He affixed his seal to the letter and passed it to Sir Alaric Danton for delivery. Like all Royal messengers, Sir Alaric was a Knight-Courier of the Order of Ravens and was one of the king's longest-standing attendants, having been one of his staff officers during the Prodavan War.

The hawkish Alaric rushed from the king's bedchamber to be replaced with the rosy, rawboned Queen Jane who approached her husband and kissed him tenderly. "You should be in bed, James, it's five in the morning..." She scolded.

James ignored his wife's admonishments. "How are you faring dear? Not too distressed I hope?" The King asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Jane laughed, "It'll take more than a little crisis to distress me." She boasted before throwing herself into the King's arms with a whimper as an explosion rang out from the direction of Frankenlisch Bay.

James' surprise lasted only a second, in the hugely-populated capital, accidents were not exactly uncommon. He shushed his wife and assured her, "It'll just be a Hostillian launderette going up, nothing to be worried about." He cupped one of her hands to her ear and told her, "Listen, you'll be able to hear the fire engines in a moment..."


Borough of Havenport


Mister Wu was distraught. He had barely escaped his smoking laundry shop when the century-old water boiler had exploded spectacularly and he was waiting outside for the fire engines to arrive as his eleven laundry attendants made their way out of the shattered building, coughing and wheezing as they fled the smoke into the open street. Every one of them were Hostillian and only two spoke the Common Language in any meaningful way so Wu was wary about letting them near his customers. He sank down to sit on the curb as his staff, some weeping, stood behind him.

As the fire engines turned the corner, Wu began to consider what he had just lost. Twenty-two years of hard work, since he had arrived in Frankenlisch on his fourteenth birthday, were going up in smoke before his eyes. But what had that godforsaken building ever done for him? He still lived in a tiny house with a full bank account and no spouse. Perhaps it was time to give it all a rest and find himself a wife? One of those tall Frankenlischian women with short hair and good teeth who worked for a living. But he had his workers depending on him, workers that did not qualify for anything in Vionna-Frankenlisch, not being King's subjects. He had the money to start anew. Perhaps Mr Wu would open a window cleaner's…


Frankenlisch Naval Dockyard


Besides the initial confusion, the explosion of a laundry shop was met by derision at the sprawling, expansive naval base Frankenlisch enjoyed. Across the ships of the anchored at Frankenlisch and the many warehouses and barrack blocks of the base, laughter and mockery reigned. A Hostillian petty officer even joked that it was a launderette operated by one of his countrymen which had exploded.

There was silence, however, in the base's air defence suite. In that cramped office, the Imperial Air Service officers of the Frankenlisch Air Defence Regiment tried desperately to coordinate an erratic series of reports from the coastal counties of incoming missiles. The reports were unusual and incomplete enough for the Frankenlisch Naval Dockyard team to assume they were incorrect. However, as a radar installation, just a hundred metres north of the Imperial Water Gardens reported between four and twelve potential missiles, it finally dawned that this odd series of half-complete reports might be referring to an actual threat.

An ETA was established at ninety seconds and warning sirens began blaring immediately. With no certainty of the target or if the threat was even real, no concise orders could be given so the base staff were advised to find cover and the ship crews were ordered to the jetties to be transferred to their ships. Men rushed from place to place and, with their crews mostly ashore, the fleet was braced for a dreadful loss. The point-defence systems of the base, consisting of a ring of CIWS and a central battery of missile systems, were activated, though nobody was particularly optimistic about their chances - having been activated far too late.

Nobody was certain of the attack until the base's defence systems opened up and a pair of incoming cruise missiles were sent off-course by last-minute countermeasures, skinning several port buildings of their roofs and toppling a radio tower, while a third careened right to level a small bus depot near the dockyard. This left seven missiles free to strike wherever they wished. Three struck the central warehouse, basically reducing the structure to rubble, destroying several million Lucans worth of supplies and equipment, though luckily the strong ammunition bunkers kept their deadly cargo under control. Another slammed into a train junction, destroying the diesel engine which was moving steadily past it. One more missile struck a cluster of trucks where soldiers of the Westonland Fusiliers were congregated, killing and maiming two dozen and giving that unfortunate regiment it's second unexpected disaster. The sixth missile skimmed the roof of a barrack building on the way to a nearby warehouse, stripping the building of tiles before a spray of flares caused it to veer off into a neighbouring barrack building and destroying it in a fantastic explosion. Another barrack went up in flames as a missile struck it in the chimney and the final missile slammed into a huge dockyard crane, doing damage to the great steel structure but failing to topple the behemoth.

The response was immediate but limited. With only a skeleton crew aboard, HMNS Frankenlisch was able to launch only a pair of Falconer Sea Poachers, the carrier-borne fighters zipping off to sweep the skies, towards the missile launch location. In bases across the north of the Kingdom of Frankenlisch, Blackthrope Musicians of Fighter Command would be launching in droves to hunt down the bombers that had carried out the missile attack.

Vengeance was only part of the response, however. Fire engines were on the scene in minutes and naval personnel worked at seawater pumps to help in the firefighting efforts. The remains of the destroyed barracks were pulled down to prevent a fire from causing more damage. The collapsed warehouse, the largest of its kind in the Empire, was burning hellishly, smoke rising to join the clouds. Firefighters soaked the ruined structure with water and carbon dioxide to starve the flames and pulled as much of the remains down as they dared, taking care to avoid the four ammunition bunkers which had held strong so far. What with the time and the surprise, only two engines were on scene and the call had gone out across the whole city for the fire brigades to move to the scene immediately. It would take an hour in total for them all to arrive, but fifty fire engines and two hundred firefighters in total would be on the scene eventually.

Every possible service personnel in the area was rushed to join the efforts. Sailors, soldiers, airmen and civilian emergency services pulled together to get the disastrous damage under control. A runner was even sent to Clothier's Street to enlist the aid of some Cossack personnel who happened to be there.

For Second Lieutenant James Wilde, this was the second horror he had had to endure before his regiment had even left Frankenlisch. It was his platoon of the Westonland Fusiliers which had been hit in the terror attack at the Frankenlisch Marathon and once again he and the faithful Sergeant Thompson were struggling to keep their men in order in the wake of a terrible attack.

"Here sir, here!" Thompson called to the young officer. " The platoon is intact but Second and Third platoons were tending to their trucks and I don't think there's anything left of 'em."

"What in Andy's name do you mean, nothing left?" Wilde asked, shouting above the din.

"I mean one of those bombs hit the trucks, it's carnage over there." Wilde noted that the Sergeant was rather pale. "Anyway, I ran into Colonel Hampden and we're to guard the gate and prevent the civilians from getting in. No civilians, no press, nobody not in uniform or with credentials."

"Right, very good, let's get moving."
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Mon Sep 30, 2019 10:14 am, edited 3 times in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

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Cossack Khanate
Diplomat
 
Posts: 602
Founded: May 09, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Cossack Khanate » Thu Sep 19, 2019 5:17 pm

Clothiers’ Street, Frankenlisch

Lieutenant Jayesh Navin shook his head at his jumpiness and his foolishness. A building down the street was releasing boiling steam into the air and several foreign-looking men had emerged from the building. An artillery strike had not occured, thankfully.

As Navin and his unit naturally moved to offer their assistance to the Hostillan laundrymen, several much larger explosions overrode the sirens of fire engines clanging towards Clothiers’ Street. The other Cossack soldiers simply moved to help the Hostillans, but Navin froze again. The other soldiers weren’t greens, but Navin had seen more variety of action than the others. And he knew an explosion when he heard one.

As Navin worked things out in his head, a Frankenlischian runner breathlessly ran up to him and told him the dockyards had been hit with missiles. It didn’t take much encouraging for Navin to rally his unit away from the poor Hostillans and towards the docks.



The unit slowed from their jog as they reached a makeshift barricade set up by the military, patrolled by soldiers as to keep civilians out, a few of whom were already craning necks to see inside. Navin followed the runner, who was let in. Once inside, Navin searched the hectic scene to find where Unit 17 was needed the most...

__________

1st Cossack Naval Convoy, nearing Frankenlischian waters

Two ASH-12 Buzzer Light Helicopters patrolled the skies over the expansive Cossack fleet. 8 75mm Wraith rockets sat menacingly on one chassis, four on either side. The Buzzer was made for stealth and delivering a blow of firepower if the situation required. The Wraiths were thermobaric guided rockets, whose fletchlettes were capable of penetrating 3 inches of rolled armor. Of course, as a somewhat stealth helicopter, the standard Buzzer was limited in armament. But the other helicopter in the air, the Vulture variant of the Buzzer, was heavily armed and armored, with both RAL-57 Kurgha missiles and Wraith rockets, as well as the standard 20mm MHD-40 gatling gun equipped with depleted uranium rounds.

But today, these helicopters wouldn’t need their guns and rockets, because they were simply scouting for the land in which they would be received as heroes. That’s what most of the fleet expected, in fact, was a celebration of the alliance between the Kingdom and the Khanate. Little did they know that the Kingdom was already in the blaze of war...
The Holy Decreeist Empire of Cossack Khanate
We don’t use NS Stats, to do so would be ridiculous. You also can’t check my factbooks...because they are in Google Docs. Tee hee
Council of Free Market Economies ,ReArk Armaments (WIP)
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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22923
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Thu Sep 19, 2019 7:26 pm

Operation Harvest: Withdrawal

The horizon rose up in a great blue and white parabola before Major Joppa and his pilots, and he felt the force of gravity pulling him back against his seat and towards the bottom of the fighter. Cervelo SS-16 radar warning, and he spoke in code over the radio system to remind his teams to double check their missile proximity warnings. Alarms were going off in the cockpit, advising that active radar was sweeping over them. Each of the Caballeros moved as a pair, each covering the other, an old, old tactic from the days of formation fighting, now spread over kilometers rather than elbow to elbow.

Joppa held the rear position with two teams, Nimrod (his own, 1 and his wingman 2), and Abel flights. They were watching for enemy pursuit, though thus far they had not detected any enemy patrols out, nor any enemy missiles. And soon they would be under the metaphorical wings, as it were, of the Kelenken, the E-15, which sweeping even more powerful radar over the retreating squadrons to cover them if need be with jamming, though that had not begun yet.

Aboard Kelenken, there was no detection as yet of active enemy naval units, but the sonar operator was trying to work out some signals from vessels approaching Frankenlisch harbour. He sat with his headphones, trying to work out who they were and what they were. At this range, enemy cruisers or destroyers could still be very bad.

Major Shoen was aware that they might well have had other attacks of opportunity, but the fact was that they needed to get to Dengali and refuel, and the bombers had shot their loads. If attacked now, they would have perhaps 15 minutes of combat time before needing to pull back anyway, best to use them wisely and be within their own defensive shield near Dengali. The two bombers, as they were being escorted away, had their own defensive capabilities, but the best all them had was this: they were very fast. The thing was, now, to punch it, move out of detection range of any enemy fighters.

In Dengali, at the air base near Josiahstown, the jump suited ground crew moved back as the pilot of the first MiG-21 was doing his final checks. He gave a thumbs up to his crew chief and began taxiing down the runway. Just as his crew were shouting encouragement, the control tower began urgently telling him to turn back. He ignored this, disdaining the desk jockeys and rear echelon pilots. His teeth flashed in his dark face. Then the plane, not having quite acquired enough speed, overshot the runway and sped out of control, crashing into a nearby warehouse. The crew chief gaped, then grabbed his handheld radio and yelled into it for the emergency fire brigade team, and rushed with the others to help get the pilot out.

“Idiot!” yelled the Officer of the Day up in the tower, slapping the air controller in the face. “How is this an auspicious beginning? What will His Excellency, General Barak, say when he hears of this? You were too slow to correct that fool!”

“At least the plane didn’t explode or catch fire,” murmured the radar officer.
The Officer of the Day rounded on him like a cobra. “Oh, really? Yes, congratulate yourselves! Get yourselves some cake! Now get the rest of the squadron up, you idiots!”

“Protocol, sir, requires us to wait until the runway is safe,” replied the control officer, sweating, licking dry lips.

The Officer of the Day threw up his hands. “Thank God we have a navy!”
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1719
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Fri Sep 20, 2019 3:12 pm

Flores, San Carlo


The next morning Diego woke and when he was shaved, showered, and dressed got on his room phone and dialed up Lord Hotspur, “Hello, Lord Hotspur? My name is Diego, I was referred by Hector Ramos. I was wondering if you would be willing to meet me for lunch early this afternoon?”

"But of course," the exiled Marquess replied with genuine delight, happy that his efforts had got him somewhere, "That would be a delight. Where should I meet you?"


Yanque, Gran Chaco


Lord Fawkes and Lord Russell returned to their hotel late and empty-handed. They had enjoyed a small series of very pleasant meetings with members of the Chacano Foreign Ministry, however, said meetings appeared completely pointless. The two aristocrats had gained none of the assurances they desired and had not even been able to address the subject of New Columbian membership of the OAS. They could only console themselves with the knowledge that they had not harmed relations any further. Still, it would likely be a night of brainstorming and heavy drinking in the hope that some other approach or new development might help their case. The strange reportings from Solisian newspapers had certainly not made their jobs any easier. Fawkes and Russell decided there was nothing they could do about that now and retired to their hotel and ordered the first of many bottles of whiskey...


Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Government House


"So then, Mister Laurenstowe, this is the hallowed seat of government in His Imperial Majesty's Dominion of New Columbia..." Lord William Lindegard mocked, voice dripping with sarcasm, as he ran his eyes across the office of the Governor-General. He considered the room up to the grade of a manager of a county bank, not on the level of His Imperial Majesty's Governor-General. The building that Richard Laurenstowe occupied was not even particularly impressive, Government House seemed to Lord Monton to be little more than a glorified Frankenlischian townhouse. And not even an Imperial Circle townhouse, it seemed something that one might find on Weaver's Avenue or in the Borough of Harquebusier's Quarter.

"Yes, Lord Monton," Laurenstowe replied amicably, ignoring the insulting tone of the Earl, "Or should I call you William?" He asked, taking a friendly stance with this mainlander general who simply stared back with blank contempt.

"You will call me 'My Lord'. We are not equals, Laurenstowe..." Lindegard admonished harshly. "We are, however, allies. And we have a duty to our King."

The Governor-General shuddered lightly. "And what is your duty, my Lord?" He asked, without a trace of anger.

"My duty is to take things in hand, Governor-General. All Imperial forces on the Ayacan continent are to fall under my command. If need be, all New Columbian forces will do the same. This insurrection had cost the Empire dearly in relations with the Ayacan states and New Columbia is making us all look bad." He explained, with no little degree of unhappiness. "I don't want to be here. I want to be at home with my wife and offering my support to the King in this trying time. Instead I have to deal with things in this hellish corner of the Empire and I will have no opposition in doing my duty."

"If I may ask, my Lord," Laurenstowe asked cheekily, "What power do you have to enforce your control here?"

"This." Lindegard withdrew a thick brown envelope and slammed it down on Laurenstowe's desk. "In this envelope are twenty warrants for the execution and arrest of Imperial Subjects. They are all signed by the King and they are all blank. I can have any person in New Columbia killed at the flick of a pen, including you..."

Laurenstowe gulped. "I see... Well, you will have my full support of course. I would do nothing to disrupt the will of the King."

"Good. I will need full access to all government meetings and buildings and full reign to browse archives at my pleasure. I expect the relevant documentation to be delivered to my hotel by noon tomorrow. Thank you, Governor-General..."
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
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Hittanryan
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 9042
Founded: Mar 10, 2011
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Hittanryan » Fri Sep 20, 2019 9:55 pm

To: Minister Jesus Gutierrez
From: Secretary Bailey
Subject: Threats on our border
Security: Highest

Your Excellency Minister Gutierrez,

I thank you for your kind words of congratulations. My intentions are only that Adiron live up to the promises made nearly a half century ago.

I am sorry to hear from San Carlo under such dire circumstances, and have made my government aware of your most urgent communication.

You may be assured that the Republic of Adiron will guarantee the security of San Carlo’s sovereign territory and territorial waters.

Sincerely,
Amy Bailey
Secretary of State
In-character name of the nation is "Adiron," because I like the name better.

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Solisian Union
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 489
Founded: Apr 22, 2018
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Solisian Union » Sat Sep 21, 2019 7:24 am

To: Minister of Foreign Affairs: Hosidius Geta, Governor of Peregrino
From: Carmen Alamillo, Foreign Minister, Solisian Empire
Subject: Our Position and Our Answer To Your Country
Encryption: Diamond Class Security, Encrypted, Transmitted over Secure Connection

Dear Minister,

I must inform you that the position taken by my country must be known to you, with the blessing of Her Majesty Meriall Satarana to say these things to you, and with her request that you bring these words to His Majesty, King Elijah IV.

The position taken, then, is strongly supported by Her government and by the Foreign Office of Solisia. The position is simple: We support our allies, especially Vionna-Frankenlisch. Even though we acknowledge your country as a good neighbor upon this world, as a great ally during the time of crisis from beyond this region, and as a potential friend in the future, it has been decided, after much debate, that this Empire cannot agree with the behavior of your monarch towards the monarch of our ally over a petty insult.

We urge you, as Her Majesty urges, to limit the quarrel between you and the King of Vionna-Frankenlisch, or else bring about a wider, greater conflict concerning this world. But word spreads as quickly as threats and bullets do. Clouds of dark doubts and despair come quickly now.

Thus, it is my duty to tell you that this Empire, by Her Majesty’s will, will choose to oppose you should you raise war upon Vionna-Frankenlisch and/or their allies. Until the end of the war which you, should your country choose to bring about, would raise, this Empire would fight on and on.

Sincerely,

Carmen Alamillo, Foreign Minister of Solisia


To: Her Enlightened Majesty the Mother Empress Chella Resyanna fe Shrailleen
From: Her Majesty Meriall Satarana, Queen of Solisia, Empress of the Solisian Empire
Subject: My Hand to Yours
Encryption: Diamond Class Security, Encrypted, Transmitted over Secure Connection

Greetings,

I humbly seek your response to my letter should you receive it as I must present my hand, truly, and fully so, to you.

My hand holds both the blade of war and the tenderness of peace. Today is a grave day as I must inform you that should war come between my empire and the people of your ally, the Edomites, I must fight that war. If peace prevails, for which I pray despite my increasing disbelief in organized religion, then that would be so much better than the former. However, war comes and I am sure of it, despite my wishes against it.

So now, I give my hand to you, hoping, dearly, that you may listen to me and allow me to speak to you, to request that you would spare any of my people currently standing on the soil of your domain. Spare the families that may be visiting your holy sites and their friends there. Spare, too, the diplomats serving in my name. Spare, too, anyone who holds the name of my empire as proof of their citizenship.

Should war come, especially between us, I pray that you would respect my request and I too, by my word, on my life, promise to honor you by sparing your people within my domain and I, by my promise, will spare your people their worship in my domain.

That is all I could say in strength for I am growing anxious and terribly disturbed over the coming of war between my ally, Vionna-Frankenlisch, and your own. I pray that my letter would not be written in vain to be ignored by you, the Enlightened One.

Sincerely, and with all my dearest respect,

Meriall
Queen of Solisia and her Commonwealth


To: Simon Alvarado,
Minister of Foreign Affairs, Republica de Gran Chaco
From: Carmen Alamillo, Foreign Minister, Solisian Empire
Subject: Deployment
Encryption: Diamond Class Security, Encrypted, Transmitted over Secure Connection


Dear minister, it is my honor, despite the delay and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding this matter, that it is simply a journalistic error. Her Majesty's government is currently speaking with the writer of the article and hopes that your government would forgive that writer for her mistake, as enthusiastic as she is towards the contribution of our country to the security of our new ally. On the matter of us sending troops to New Columbia however, that is simply a rumor. The writer of the article in question has not bothered to ask us first for any confirmation and she had forgotten to display proper journalistic behavior.

Please rest assured that we mean you no harm and that you will not see any troops from our country on the soil of New Columbia.

Sincerely,

Foreign Minister of Her Majesty's Cabinet
Carmen Alamillo


To: The Matriarch of Foreign Affairs, Orlena T'lok
From: Her Majesty Meriall Satarana, Queen of Solisia, Empress of the Solisian Empire
Encryption: Diamond Class Security, Encrypted, Transmitted over Secure Connection

Matriarch Orlena, as the Empress of Solisia's territories, the very Queen of the Three Peoples of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, it is my honor to break the silence between my country and yours; however, it is not my honor to speak to you concerning our desire to join our hands with yours in war. Although we share some concerns against the tide of the reds, we believe that there too are great differences which created the lasting gap between our countries.

I am, however, very happy to welcome you to my capital; I shall arrange for the fastest transport so that you may come without delay and speak your mind; perhaps, then, we may consider your offer of friendship as war forges it.

Sincerely,

Her Majesty Meriall Satarana, the Queen of Solisia, the Empress of the Solisian Empire


To: His Imperial Majesty King James I Turrell of Vionna-Frankenlisch

From: Her Majesty Meriall Satarana, Queen of Solisia, Empress of the Solisian Empire

Security: Diamond Class Security, Encrypted, Transmitted over Secure Connection

Your Majesty, the King of Vionna-Frankenlisch, I am glad to support you. Moreso, I am happy to provide you and your country whatever support we can give in terms of our military and our political power. On the other hand, we do apologize dearly for the mistakes of some of our journalists. However, we assure you that their mistakes won't be the end of our new relationship; I firmly believe that despite the setback, everything will go according to plan more or less.

Now, I confirm to you in this letter, and only to you, that my Empire has my blessing to send forth to your territories several of my best troops to aid you in your defensive operations should New Edom and their allies strike us for your words. My own opinion on the matter is reserved; instead, I give to you only my hand for assistance and my goodwill for the sake of our new alliance.

Come hell or high water, the Solisians support you. We will not stop fighting with you and for you until we win or lose.

Sincerely,

Her Majesty Meriall Satarana, Queen of Solisia, Empress of the Solisian Empire


To: Jarl Ghatak,
From: Carmen Alamillo, Foreign Minister, Solisian Empire
Subject: Basing
Encryption: Diamond Class Security, Encrypted, Transmitted over Secure Connection

Her Majesty has given me the blessing to inform you that your request for basing rights upon our territories has been granted. In addition, we, as allies to your great country, vow to fight by your side in the name of honoring our agreement with Vionna and in the name of protecting one another from the aggression and insults of others beyond our alliance.

Sincerely,

Carmen Alamillo, Foreign Minister





The light faded from all the corners of the Solisian sky, once again departing from their places in favor of their sisters in the dark. The moon and the stars would seek the places once occupied by the sun, and all under it would fall into the embrace of the cool, peaceful shadows. The winds would prevail and the tides would change, but the Empire itself would remain as it is...for now.


Bearing witness to the changing sky was the Empress herself and her former student, the General Rivera. It was only fortunate for both of them; the Empress had nothing else to do and the General had accomplished much of her duties. Together, they stood at the balcony of an mansion the Empress owned for herself, conveniently located at a hill a way bit off from the capital. Together, they sought each other's company, away from all unnecessary politics, rumors and corrupting shadows of the courts and the Palace.


"Have you slept well, my general?" Meriall asked as she looked to her , who stood to her right , elbows on the balcony's rail, just as she stared into the withering light of the day. The empress gave her little time to speak by laying her hand on her shoulder. It acknowledged the unspoken fact that her general is no longer a student but a subordinate. Despite that, the Empress inwardly cringed at treating her like that. Her student did not deserve such treatment


"Yes, Your Majesty," the Azen officer replied, lifting her elbows off the rail to face her fully, sparing no word from her lips, realizing that the Empress needed her attention, "I have. Although, I am sure once the war begins, there will be no more for me and my fellow officers." She turned away quickly, to the dying horizon, wishing herself to study the silhouettes of the tall buildings which decorated the vast city her former teacher ruled and — with great hope as a servant would hold for a good master — will continue to rule.


She said, "I regret that I could not accept the offer of becoming the commander in chief for the coming war. I don't regret that I would continue to follow your orders concerning your desire to form and a battalion of special, voluntary troops in New Columbia. I hope you will accept my chosen substitute as commander of my division while I am serving there."


"I do. And you are right to feel regret and not to. For me, do not feel that way; I'm more satisfied with you than I am not. You pleased me for so long. Should I be displeased with you now?" said the Empress, smiling at her junior as she leaned on the rail, trying to get closer to her.

Unfortunately, the general could not reciprocate the friendly gesture and, for the sake of her station and protocol, had to step away. Both looked at each other painfully, but both of the women were unable to apologize as it was what was expected of them. They may be alone but the Empress, to the general's opinion, was highly sacred enough to cause her to keep her distance.


"I thank you, but I have concerns," the general said, trying to smile back but being unable to return it without coating it in true worry, "especially about our ability to actually send our ground forces from the Empire's territories into New Columbia. As far as I know, our future enemies have already deployed elements of their air forces and navies. We might be at a time too late to send them through and we may unfortunately cause the war to begin earlier than we want it to. Despite the presence of our Cossack allies in our waters now, I am afraid to say that the future would be positively in our favor concerning the deployment of our forces."


"I share the same concerns but we have no more choices left to take," the empress sighed as she reached out to her former student and took her by the arm, gently squeezing it through the sleeve of her uniform, not letting go, holding her own against the general's half-hearted attempt to keep away from Her, "and I must say to you that despite their actions, we must be proactive. I taught you that and I would tell you again, as a reminder, that it is better to focus on what we do rather than the actions of others. We cannot surrender the initiative willingly."


"And we won't, Your Majesty," the general told her, eye to eye, no longer resisting the grasp of her teacher. She realized now that the Empress did not wish to respect the protocol established and still would like to address her as before. The student, in question, accepted this by stepping one step forward towards the Empress. She said, "We never will, not with the plans we have set in motion already."


"Confidently," the empress said, letting go of her student's arm, and instead holding her hands, "we can rely on all our forces. The rest, especially the politics and the diplomacy, I will handle." She paused and then said, with an air of curious speculation about it, "Rivera, how sure are you that we can win this war?"


"Against two empires and the increasing set of allies behind them? Their navies are reportedly greater than ours. I can be sure that their economies are much more resilient than our own; they have fought greater wars than we have, with more attention given already to their machinery thanks to their experience. They can fight well; I've read about them and I've seen them in action, on television and in reality."


It did not bring the Empress relief to see her general's face transform into one of disgust, frustration, and wasted opportunity. Had she only given her general a voice in the Cabinet, perhaps things would have come out diffently in the face of such a looming threat to the security of the Empire. She said, "The reports I collected and created myself, while I was in New Edom, would confirm my belief that they are superior to us alone. But we are allied to Vionna and the Cossacks, including the rest of the nations who wish to oppose them — the Edomites and the Shrailleeni." Then, only briefly, the general's eyes presented a window of hope.


"We may have a better chance of winning this war than we would alone or with Vionna only," spoke the Azen.


"And that belief is shared among the ranks of the army?" the empress questioned her, a hint of optimism injected in between the words.



The general shrugged and told her, "Not absolutely, but many of my companions agree that, with caution and preparation, we will be able to fight and last in this war."


"I see," whispered the Empress. Then, as sudden as feelings cause people to, she looked to her student, with fear, with the kind of attention that mothers give to children they hold so dear to their breast, she said to her, "Fight well, lead well, and live well, my General. Be an example to your men.."

"And I vow to follow your words, " replied the general, "for as long as I live, for I am your general, and for I am a sword you wield to defend your name and the people of your name."

And then, without much, an embrace was made. For a long while, it held. Then it fractured, as things should, but not without the feeling left behind by a true friendship, lingering in the corners of minds, in the chambers of hearts.





From the Solisian island outpost…

“Look - ships!” a young marine would say to her companion outside as the winds blew from the seas and the waves crashed against the shores of their tiny home away from home, a fortunate and unfortunate aspect of their service to the Empire...

The entry of ships from their Cossack allies into the waters of the Empire was welcomed. At first notice, the best that the Solisians did to tell their new friends that they were welcome to cross and enter into Solisian marine territories was by directly establishing radio contact with them. A friendly Solisian gesture following that would be to send out a small ship to guide their way through the waters with a Solisian pair of fighter jets flying over the heads of the sailors, both foreign and Solisian, after they took off from the nearest air base at one of the larger islands.

As soon as their Cossack allies were out of their territorial waters, the jets reluctantly gave their farewells to them by radio and the little boat which showed them the best way through their holdings too sailed back to where it came from. Waves and shouts of encouragement. A faint cheer. Hope.





Meanwhile...

Solisian Imperial Civilian Flight #52

The great passenger plane, coated in Ghostwhite paint, flew through clouds and thinning air, towards their destination, an international airport at the capital of New Columbia. It just took off around the time of day's light. It was not alone, and it was not the last plane to fly towards that small, quiet, and growing colony of the Solisian ally, Vionna. After the first passenger plane sent out, Flight #23, landed in the airport a day before, and silently disgorged over 458 troops and their personal equipment and materiel - along with 1568 kilograms of small arms ammunition (as carried by Flight #41, a civilian cargo plane that was hired quietly by the government through one of their “private” companies in order to decrease suspicions of Solisian involvement in New Columbia. The delivery was made once Her Majesty's message was sent to Vionna), as well as an estimated 596 kilograms worth of food, water, rations, clothes, and other items and materials deemed proper for use by infantry formations. If time and circumstances permitted, so long as Solisian planes could enter and leave New Columbia safely until the war finally was declared on Solisia, there would come more and more arms and supplies to that territory.

But good Solisian officers would keep on with the worrying; so would responsible Solisian politicians.

Legionary Lady - Subteniente Sofia Vera took one more deep, tense breath, hoping to ease her anxious heart by filling her crazed lungs with recycled, air conditioned air. Aboard the cramped airliner, she did her best, encouraging herself with pre-packaged positive thoughts, to remain calm. She was excited but she was also worried about her fate in the coming days. After so many months of training under the hot Nannasian sun on vast fields, narrow valleys, and muddy, unused farmlands; after weeks of conditioning to all kinds of weather, from the highly treacherous chills of Sayaria and Ashia to the murderous dust storms of the Azen lands; and after days of interesting briefings, boring classroom sessions, and endless field lessons, she and the rest of her sisters and brothers, her comrades from the Solisian Legions and companions from the Azen Legion, would finally be unleashed beyond the boundaries of great Solisia.

Yes, she told herself, I can finally see myself elsewhere, out of the reaches of my country.

Yet, to her, and to some of the younger, more immature and not-so-adjusted members of the “special battalion” which the good General Rivera formed in the name of Her Majesty, the future quickly took into its embrace the form of a nightmare which does not speak.

Her mother’s farewell haunted her. The way her frail fingers left her furious hands; the way her trembling face gave way to a round of dignified weeping as the train began to roll out of the station; and the way her oh-so-delicately written letter of motherly attentions and admonitions seemed to speak to her in the voice she treasured for most of her life. That, she thought, left an impression on her, one that appealed to her to preserve her life, her sanity, and her humanity, so that she could return home to her mother, as she had done so many times as a rebellious but tender child, without frightening the kindness out of her.

A hand took hers firmly, almost suddenly. It took her out of her trance. She almost struck the hand with the other but when her eyes turned too, she saw that the hand belonged to her seat-mate, a friend from Elizara - a good man named Isagani.

“Hey,” he said. His voice could have reminded her of her father. Though he’s passed on without too much good to his name, his own was equal to the fruitiness of Isagani’s.

A smile. The nerves would calm down from seeing a nice smile.

“I’m all right,” she told him.

“You are,” he replied. “I am only making sure.”




The stories of individuals, both named and not, often dominate the beginnings, the courses, and the endings of wars. Yet, the stories of nations and their governments too must prevail.

In this case, the Solisian Empire saw the change of law.

Mobilization no longer was partial; beginning today, reserves were being called up. Trains and all other public transportation capable of moving vast numbers of men and women as quickly as they could to their posts or to their rallying areas were overtaken by their governments, local and territorial. The media was censored. Air defense and radar stations were activated. Pilots and sailors were summoned to their ships and planes. All these events would begin and slowly, gradually go through their courses.

On the border facing the Deadorans, troops roused from their rest and work and leisure at home were forming their units, readying themselves for a crossing into the foreign land, through it, so they may, if they must, if fate approves of it, fight the Edomites together with the savages.

Upon the soil facing the waters, on every island owned by the crown of Meriall, both the natives and their masters - the Solisians - began to prepare. It would take time, yes. It would consume hours until it began to consume days until it began to consume weeks until it began to consume more and more. But as it began, all the peoples of the Empire - the Sayaritans, the Ashians, the Elizarans, the Nannasians, and the Azens - would follow the call of their masters - the Solas, the Lunas, and the Exilei - to a war that would come.

Fathers and mothers bid farewell to sons and daughters, fearing that they may see them not again, as do children to their parents should they depart their homes or their jobs for their comrades. Legionnaires, most especially the loyal soldiers of the Azenia, either tearfully or stoically separate themselves from their quiet villages or their lively clans and tribes. And no war ever spares the rich from the fate of the poor; the weak from the fate of the strong; the intelligent from the fate of the stupid.

And though Solisia may seek to fight for the security and honor of herself and her ally, perhaps, once the end of the war comes, Solisia may have to fight the demons within once more, to confront the red armies of her past.
Last edited by Solisian Union on Sat Sep 21, 2019 8:26 am, edited 2 times in total.
Barriga llena, corazón contento.



The art of happiness lies in extracting happiness from common, little things....and the sun! :D

For God, For Country, and for King and Queen

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22923
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Sat Sep 21, 2019 8:05 am

Crossing the Tempesta
Approaching Ayaca


The Edomite Carrier Task Force had had a difficult 24 hours. Rough seas had required them to cancel combat air patrol and helicopter flights, and the decks had had to be secured in increasingly foul weather. They had been fortunate enough not to lose anyone overboard, but great waves had even battered the high decks of the cruiser, Esther, and the carrier Serpentis. Aboard the escorts and the arsenal ship it had been a very trying time, the vessels rolling and decks occasionally submerged in waves. Lifelines had been secured, and yet, nevertheless, for the younger sailors it was a terrifying nightmare, for the older, even, it required all their bravado and posturing to present themselves as too skilled to panic. In fact, everyone was praying with fervor.

Admiral Eglesias had instructed the fleet to disperse to avoid collisions. Anyone who dared attack at such a time had to be bold as a seraphim. He did his best to set a tone of proper piety and duty for his officers and any enlisted personnel who saw him. This did not prevent him from losing his temper, however, when the wardroom door opened and a steward brought in a great steaming tureen as though it was an unexploded live bomb.

“I think we can do without the--” Eglesias had begun just before in a strange moment of clarity the hot liquid flung off the lid and flew into the air like a wave of green mixed with noodles and vegetables, then scattered across the table and flicked scalding contents over the exclaiming and shouting officers.

“Imbecile!” Eglesias had roared. “I’ll make you into soup!” he saw red and seized his table knife, and the wretch fled. "I will carve you like a fish!"

“I’m not hungry anyway,” Captain Ephraim had said.

“Nor...am I….” Colonel Prince Hiram Pileser had said, looking a bit pale.

And that was the relatively mild rolling on the huge light carrier. Aboard the destroyers and frigates, it was another matter altogether. No attempt even at nice wardroom dinners. Aboard the Abraham, a Chieftain Class destroyer, one of the engines failed and the vessel did not succeed in turning into a big roller, the size of a building, fast enough. The whole ship careened and sailors were hurled to the side of the companionways, stations and engine room. Fortunately the galley had been secured, because a big plastic tub of olive oil exploded as its lid came off while a cook was moving it. Eglesias’ relief at the low casualty count was immediately refuted by a dozen sailors being swept from their lifelines and hurtled into the sea. The engine room was a disaster area. Chief Machinist’s Mate Greco was on watch when he and two Machinist’s mates were caught in a fire. They were pulled, screaming, from it, but were so badly injured they were unfit for duty. Commander Oren, who had been on the observation deck, was injured by broken glass, along with a Quartermaster’s Mate, while the Bosn’s Mate nearby had a broken arm.

The storm also had played hell with communications. No one had any idea what was going on on the Abraham. The frigate Glaive was hit by the same line of waves as had struck the destroyer, but it had been able to turn effectively and thus even though tons of green-white water struck like the fist of God, it was able to swiftly right itself, resulting in fervent prayers of thanksgiving.

The Marine Infantry, where required assisted with the more brute force elements of damage control, but otherwise they were helpless in their berths. You could not shoot weather. Captain Bedan and the other officers of D Company simply sat tight, shared a bottle of wine, and sang popular regimental songs. Like the air crews, they could do nothing but wait it out.

When it was over, the regular rough seas were like an old friend. Eglesias was frustrated by the damage to one of his escorts, but realized that it could have been a lot worse. God was merciful. He ordered Psalms of Thanksgiving said throughout the fleet, and also ordered that contact be established with the San Carlo navy, that they had arrived and would be inbound soon.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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New Edom
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Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Sat Sep 21, 2019 9:36 am

Fineberg, New Edom

Count Emil Sharra was deeply grieved. As he listened to New Edom’s senior generals and admirals discussing the war plans, he realized that his advice would be disregarded. The preemptive attacks would not merely mean war, they would mean a war that would be difficult to step back from.

General Unwerth, the Minister of Defense, along with General Augrim, General Vrinn, Admiral Galt and others were proposing first strikes that would be aimed at crippling the enemy war effort. They would focus on damaging infrastructure and means of waging war on the part of the enemy. They would help San Carlo and Chaco seize control of all access to New Columbia to hold it hostage, bottle up the bay via Peregrino. They would provide air support to Kehrahn to use it as a buffer state against Deadora.

Lalery had suggested finding dissenting voices among the military. “We cannot back away from this. This is not going to be like some border dispute. We will be provoking a desire for vengeance in turn. We will have to beat them. And we are not ready for such a general war. If this plan of Unwerth’s doesn’t work, then we will have to sue for peace in some way.”

The two of them had dined with General Solomon Barak and with the Queen’s cousin, Prince Isaiah, who had agreed that the plan was very risky. Neither Sharra nor Lalery was a military man. Lalery had done a brief stint as a Guards officer but had mostly done palace duty and training.

“We are spread too thin to do an aggressive war that requires more than raiding, in effect,” explained Barak. “Look here: we can respond very well to enemy air raids, naval raids and so on. Invasion is highly unlikely. And Unwerth is correct, by the way, we can strike at staging areas and resources and inflict great damage. Vionna-Frankenlisch is not ready for a war. Nor, for all their posturing, is Neue Regensburg. They called up a lot of reserves in such haste that they’ve snarled up their own transport system.”

“But we’re spread too thin,” Lalery had pointed out. “What does that mean? How can we be well defended if we’re spread too thin?”

Prince Isaiah had explained. “We are well defended. Because we have a solid well distributed air force, coastal defense regiments, coast guard and naval patrols, and our military district system enables us to quickly respond to ground incursions. And if someone tried to push into our territory, the defenses overlap. But if we suddenly commit to attack, then that overlap weakens.”

“The problem,” Barak had added, “Is these other allies. Solisia and the Cossacks. They appear eager to support Vionna-Frankenlisch, and are better prepared. They represent forces that can buy them time, pin down our own forces. If it becomes a bigger war, we could risk losing territory or even lose.”

Barak alone might have not swayed Sharra. He was known as a cautious commander, a Cunctator, wary of unnecessary risk. Unwerth had rated him as a good commander for garrisons and for training men for combat roles, but Nicanor had mocked him behind his back, calling him “Uncle Barak”, the worrying, beard tugging nervous uncle from a popular series of films about a minor aristocratic family living in the country.

Prince Isaiah was a bit different. He had his problems: he spoiled his family, sending them on expensive foreign trips, let his sons and daughters get away with murder, had a taste of luxury and had once made a serious play for Mara’s hand. But he was no Cunctator, he was quite reliable and would simply follow his military instructions as best he could. No genius, but a solid commander who knew his business.

With this counsel in mind, Sharra and Lalery had met with leaders of the Chamber of Deputies to discuss the military budget. It was a long conversation, led up to by meetings of aides and proxies, but ended up being a sit down meeting at Sharra’s home, where wine and fine food flowed and he had to carefully balance his loyalty to the Monarchs with his determination to encourage the Deputies to rein in the military budget.
Listening to them, however, Sharra realized that Prince Enoch Tubal-Cain had gotten to them first. Dr. Delmar spoke at length, like a professor, weighing one option against another. On the one hand, yes, another big war could be ruinous. New Edom must move in more peaceful and productive directions. On the other hand, the evidence that Vionna-Frankenlisch, Neue Regensburg, Solisia, the Cossack Khanate, and possibly Deadora were working together was very alarming. Dr. Marcus Campion had chimed in that he had received assurance that the intention was for a limited war. The budget would not be exceeded, no reserves beyond Category I would be called up, and the Holy Empire would negotiate if an honourable means could be proposed. The Shraillleeni Empire had offered to mediate, possibly with the support of the Late Roman Empire or the Empire of Ghant.

In general, Sarah Carmel had warned, the Chamber was outraged by the insulting, shocking message to the King-Emperor, and many Deputies felt worried that war was coming regardless. In fact, they generally thought that Sharra and Lalery were just talking to them about the details following Prince Enoch’s talk with them. In order to not look like fools, they pretended that this was, indeed, so. Lalery was, however, able to hold them to only Category I reservists being called up, in order to make sure that supplies and transport were distributed properly.

As the Deputies were going to their cars in the twilight, moths and bats fought their own war in the air. Lalery and Sharra stood on the veranda of the villa and watched the diminishing lights of the vehicles of Sharra’s guests. “Well, that’s it,” he said glumly, lighting a cigar. “What now?”

“We do our duty. We have an oath.” Sharra said calmly. But that night he went for a long walk in his garden, as though memorizing each path, each fountain and frond,each root and stem.

The War Council

Sharra, therefore, listened with an affectation of calm, as General Vrinn explained the air attack plans for Neue Regensburg. General Rufus Foliot would command these forces, and was to be given priority for coordination of fuel and munitions to that effect.

1 tactical fighter squadron of 12 MiG-21s would be fully alerted and defend Peregrino along with its Coast Guard and Coastal Defense batteries. 4 submarines were to embark from New Edom to provide additional defense, and ambush and strike against any Regensburger naval movements.

Attacking forces would consist of the following:
1 UAV (CFHQN-1 and Blackfly) squadron does recon and electronic warfare, supported by E-15 flights which would remain near the air defense shield near Wenceslas AFB (Etruria Majora in Northern New Edom) and King James AFB (Damoclea).
1 interceptor (12 MiG-21) squadron supports coastal defense for Damoclea and Northern New Edom respectively.
2 tactical fighter squadron attacks base targets (24 Wolfdog fighters)
2 tactical fighter squadron acts as reserve and supports bomber squadron attack on mainland targets (24 GM-24 Caballeros, 4 RM-30 Bombers)

All regiments in the Damoclea-Hostillia Military District and Northern Military Districts had their leaves canceled, and were either preparing in garrison for duties or else were deployed by now to organize supply movements, provide security, or move to deployment encampments.

It was to be recommended to the navies and air forces of New Hydrenia and Lyscania that they place themselves on full alert. New Hydrenia had 6 frigates and 6 corvettes available and they generally worked for mutual coastal defense anyway, but they were on the other side of the continent. It was requested that the New Hydrenians place 12 multi-role fighters (Bartgeiers) on alert and ready to provide a reserve response. A personal call from Elijah to Alois as well as to the Supreme Strategos of Lyscania, General Anticles Pleiades, would secure the Hydrenian planes temporary basing in Lyscania. Lyscania’s own small navy, consisting of 3 corvettes and 7 patrol ships, would also be placed on alert.

If possible, a raid would be staged across the Damoclean border. General Hamilar was to prepare a force consisting of one regiment of Hussars, one regiment of motorized infantry, one regiment of Lancers, with appropriate support. Unwerth and Augrim recognized that this would take some time to finish preparing, as movement of army units towards the border had just begun. Nevertheless, Hamilcar was sent the orders.

For the south, Carrier Task Force Anaconda was to move between New Edom and Gloria Regis and remain on full alert for Vionna-Frankenlisch incursions. They were also to begin raiding Vionna-Frankenlischan shipping. And the air attacks were to continue. Operation Harvest was to be refitted and prepared for a second run.

As for the Deadorans: the Eastern Military District was to be placed on full alert. The 3rd Air Division was to prepare to provide air support to the Kehrahni, who would soon send their message of defiance to Jacqueline Thrall. Naval forces on Magna Lacuna would also stand to. The Category I Reserves being called up were generally to be alloted to the Eastern Military District. Reserve battalions and squadrons were to be called up to their depots, begin training and preparation. These were generally reservists who trained once a month and were considered experienced in use of equipment and well enough disciplined. There were a reasonable number of veterans among them.







2nd Squadron of the 15th Hussar Regiment, Western Damoclean Border

20 Fiery Tanks, 15 T62 Medium Battle Tanks and a mix of 13 heavy APCs, utility, support, light artillery and engineering vehicles moved in small convoys that were kept a bit apart to avoid them being sandwiched during an ambush. Ahead of them went the usual recon complement of Phorusrhacos Light Tanks accompanying Puma APCs, Leading the procession was a detachment of engineers in 3 track-laying engineering trucks. They tore up the country roads, they sent dirt flying, they shook the very ground as they moved as though they were the ancient god Ares arriving hungry for what lay across the border.

Major Ashur Gedor, on top of his tank's command cupola gazed towards the horizon. He was in regular communication with the border commander, and could thus receive information about Air Force signals and ideally not be ambushed or surprised by a sudden incursion.

The difficulties of his marriage made him a bit gloomy, and he focused on work to preoccupy himself. It was funny how the border country was just that—country. He spoke into his headset. Must not be distracted by this though. He contacted his adjutant and made sure the man would confirm that there was fuel and fodder waiting for them at the FOB they were headed for.

Kiron Air Force Base
Peregrino


Theodore Brynn, a 22 year old Air Force lieutenant, had woken up at Kiron Air Force Base 15 km from San Marco and went yawning into his early workout routine, doing pushups, situps and pull-ups on the bar in the training room down the hall before hitting the shower, getting a breakfast of cheese filled peppers, capybara spicy sausage, toasted flatbread and orange juice, then heading down to the briefing room with other officers. The squadron commander explained to him that they were going to step up patrols for the time being in order to make a show of force. He and the rest of his flight were first up.

Later he went to the hangar where his MiG was waiting, and after getting a report from the ground crew on her condition (he named her after the secret love of his life, actress Tatiana Rubens, who starred in an evening television show) he began his flight check, reported his readiness to the Flight leader, and rolled her out and lifted her off. No feeling like it.

The base’s operations and intelligence officers had confirmed that there had been no increase in Regensburg’s air or sea patrols, but, regardless, the unit had the duty to be extra alert.

He and his flight got their birds up in the air and headed out on their patrol, which was supposed to fly near the border with the Noviterans. The flights were smaller than on the continent, just two planes each to cover the patrols by shifts. His partner, Lieutenant Donatella Abrams, had been transferred recently and he had her measure as a flyer, not as a partner entirely yet, so he was glad they were flying inland.

Mountains, scraggly pine forest, ancient rocks, roads winding among them, valleys crossed with rail tracks, mining and lumber and mining areas, small towns nestled among the heights flew swiftly beneath him as he soared along the border country. He dashed past a column of moving vehicles, mostly visible by their exhaust from above, that must be the New Edomite soldiers on exercise controlling one zone of the border. Such a relief--up in the air, away from all the complications on the ground.

"Sure is a pretty country when you see it up here, Buzz-1," he said cheerfully.

"Amen to that, Buzz-2, especially at predawn when you can barely see it with the naked eye" replied his wingman. Er, woman. They flew together to the coast, out over the sparkling waters.
Last edited by New Edom on Sat Sep 21, 2019 9:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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Neue Regensburg
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Posts: 208
Founded: Jan 19, 2019
Tyranny by Majority

Postby Neue Regensburg » Sat Sep 21, 2019 10:13 am

Military District 3
Neue Regensburg

The Air General sat at the polished mahogany table eating his lunch and reading the news of the day. He piled some sauerkraut onto his schnitzel and stuffed it into his mouth. He was a large man with rolls of fat on the back of his neck and a double chin now, but in his youth had been one of the best pilots in the Luftheer. Chewing aggressively for a bit then washing it down with a stein of dark beer, Helmut von Püpenscharter called for his aid, “Lieutenant! Assemble my staff! I will not sit here idle while out noble allies take such a hit from our enemy.”

“Yes, my Air General.” Said and rushed off to assemble the other officers.

Püpenscharter continued eating while his staff assembled in. He had them wait while he finished his mean, then emptied his stein and wiped his face, “We are at war. Perhaps the government has not said so publicly yet, but out ally was attacked by those pita eating savages.”

He banged his fist against the table, “I want the world to know that Neue Regensburg is prepared to meet these threats! We will create a response plan to hit back at New Edom, to let them know that they are not the only ones who can go about the world attacking others! And let it be known that if these fools are hostile to the King or his friends, then General Püpenscharter will drop a hot revenge on their heads!”

The staff nodded and mumbled their agreements. I have an idea on how to make this attack. We should strike soon with what we have in range, and not wait until we can bring everything to bear, they will detect all the movement and set out extra patrols. We shall also strike these barbarians on a day and time in which they shall be the least prepared and the most vulnerable. Long has Edomite heresy been allowed to fester under the lazy eye of these other so called “Christian nations.” Rome, shall not stop them, no they embrace the heresy, and out Catholic brothers, merely bow to them. We shall strike a blow to the epicenter of what it is to be Edomite, and bomb them while they are in church services on Sunday morning.”

There was some murmuring and the general turned to have a buxom young lass wearing a dirndl refill his stein. When the mug was full, he took a hearty drink then quieted the other officers, “The heretical Edomite church and their government are inseparable. Their thinly veiled pagan ways shall be punished. The air units on the Damoclean Frontier shall strike at their military chapels while they are all worshiping Baal, and our bombing forces in Military district 3 will launch an attack on the Cathedral and churches of New Edom itself in the city of Calafia!”

The Staff banged their steins on the table in agreement and enthusiasm. They began sketching out the plan in earnest. The bombers and CAS squadrons from Military district 4 and 7 would cross the border into Damoclea and strike at different targets in military bases and villages, trying their best to knock out as many men as they could while they were worshiping their false God. Fighters would follow as escorts.

From Military District 3 the bomber squadrons would take off with external drop tanks and top off just after they went out to sea, then come at different angles into the city, like wise escorted. They would flee back as fast as they could after dropping their ordinance with fighters from the capital coming out to guard their rear while they were coming over the ocean. It was a daring plan all agreed, and they all complimented von Püpenscharter on being so very bold. No doubt the barbarian Edomites would down good pilots, men of Neue Regensburg, children of King Peter, but they would be true heros and martyrs fighting for a just and noble cause.

The general got up and left the details for his staff to finish, “I want that sent for approval in two days so be quick and make sure everything is prepared!”

As he walked out, he stopped a moment to give some sweet compliments to the serving girl for her excellent attention she had paid him during his meal.

The Damoclean Frontier

The men in the officer’s mess were drinking a lovely lager and eating roast boar that one of the hired Hunting Masters had managed to obtain for the officers to eat. Sauerkraut and thick stew of turnips and carrots were also on the menu. It had begun to storm outside, but the howling wind and lighting seemed far away compared to the men who were sitting in a lovely wooden hall decorated with deer antlers, and with a roaring fire on one end. Nothing, it appeared could have brought the mood down, until General Max von Luger walked in.

The general scowled at the officer’s fun. He handed his black leather trench coat and peaked cap to his aide to hang up on a coat rack. His frown could have frozen a volcano, but no one noticed him as he slowly took his gloves off. Von Luger was a thin man with a receding hairline, and a curved beak of a nose that balanced his small round glasses. He looked at his aide and gave a slight curt nod. The aide clicked his heels and yelled for everyone to stand at attention.

The whole mess stopped what they were doing and stood ramrod strait at their tables. General von Luger walked down the center of the hall silently glaring at all of his officers. The only sound was that of his leather boot heels against the floor. Von Luger stood by the fire and turned to face everyone. Only then did he give the word for them to be seated.

The general waited a moment relishing the discomfort of the men sitting and waiting for his proclamation. He started quietly, just loud enough for the men in the back to hear when they strained, “I am not sure that you fools know, as you seem to be celebrating, but the Edomites have launched a successful air attack upon our allies home nation.”

The other officers looked around at each other surprised, then back at the general. Von Luger took off his glasses and began cleaning the lenses with a cloth, “If they can do that to a nation as far away as Vionna-Frankenlisch, then why couldn’t they do it to us? After all, they are only a few short kilometers away from this very base.”

The general replaced his glasses then rose his voice and lashed at them, “And I find the bulk of the officers of this very base drinking and merrymaking while the barbarous hordes prepare for war on our people! You men are all disgraces to yourselves, and your families! You will not, however be disgraces to your regiments, the army, or your king! This base is now on full alert, and I have sent out messages to put all the other garrisons along the border on alert as well. We are now on a wartime footing! Have your men draw weapons and equipment, they will sleep with their rifles. Man the anti-air defenses, dig trenches for the bombings to come. You will all receive orders for the front in the morning, where you will dig in along the defensive lines in the mountains. There will be combat patrols and discipline! We are the gate to the kingdom, and we will take the blows, while the rest of our forces move to meet us. Go now and do as I say!”

All of the officers stood clicked their heels and then rushed out to prepare their men for what was to come. The base was a mad house for the rest of the day, of units gathering supplies, drawing weapons, packing up items that would not be brought into combat. The general watched it all with disdain. These men needed to be as hard as the mountains they occupied. They would have to learn.


Post written by: Republica De Gran Chaco
Last edited by Neue Regensburg on Sat Sep 21, 2019 10:14 am, edited 2 times in total.
This nation has been taken up by Vionna-Frankenlisch, who retains creative control. Most posts are presently made by Republica de Gran Chaco and Noviterra.For the old owner see Nachtmark.

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Cossack Khanate
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Founded: May 09, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Cossack Khanate » Sat Sep 21, 2019 11:24 am

Approaching Frankenlisch, Cossack Naval Convoy

Admiral Rao stood on the flight deck of the Akvavit, personally ordering the airmen to send patrols out. He was in a good mood. The Solisans had raised the morale of the Cossacks with their act of friendship, the sailors and soldiers alike had rushed to the decks to cheer. The last time the Admiral crossed through friendly waters, he had gotten a blunt welcome-to-port greeting and a poor excuse for a welcoming party. Born and raised to a high-class family, Rao had gotten accustomed to near-royal treatment. Maybe a little too much.

Konzul-General Dewstaad was in a similarly good mood. It was the first time he had been approved for field action in at least ten years, and he was ready to give it his best. He had the Admiral’s binoculars around his neck, and he crossed the sunny decks to Rao and handed them to him.

“You can almost see Frankenlisch from here”, said Dewstaad, “There’s the eastmost islands of the Kingdom right there”, pointing to a group of outlines on the horizon behind them.

Rao lifted the binoculars to his aging eyes. “You can see Frankenlisch from here. And it doesn’t look like it’s in very good shape”, he said, handing the binoculars back to Dewstaad and pointing. Through the lenses, the general saw the fires and smoke rising from the dockyards of the capital. He lowered the binoculars in shock.

“The damned Edomites beat us here…”, muttered Rao, under his breath.

Konzul-General Dewstaad spoke into his microphone then to his comrade-in-arms “Communications section, prepare the bridge. I will be there. Admiral, prepare all ships for landing, and get the men ready to unboard”. After receiving a quick nod from Rao, K-G Dewstaad strode to the bridge and snatched a headset from the hands of a ready bridge officer. The radio had already been prepared for communication with Frankenlisch.

“Port of Frankenlisch, this is Konzul-General Rihat Dewstaad, commanding 1st Cossack Naval Convoy of His Majesty the Imperator Khan. Requesting permission to dock. Over”
The Holy Decreeist Empire of Cossack Khanate
We don’t use NS Stats, to do so would be ridiculous. You also can’t check my factbooks...because they are in Google Docs. Tee hee
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Neue Regensburg
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Founded: Jan 19, 2019
Tyranny by Majority

Postby Neue Regensburg » Sat Sep 21, 2019 1:53 pm

Military District 1

The staff of Military District 1 were beginning to gather at a remote retreat. It was a large mansion in the woodlands of Northern Regensburg that belonged to the Navy. Admiral Heinrich Bundelball had decided it be important to buy-up as a means of promoting morale among the senior officers. Those who had gone to great lengths to please him would be awarded with a week at the estate. At the moment, it was being used for this meeting. One might question why Bundelball was drawing key staff to this place at such a critical time. He himself had pondered on that before resolving that they were Regensburgers. The proper form would be observed even in times of great crisis. They were an old and proud people and he would be damned if he could not make a display of his hospitality.

Name-cards were written up in calligraphy and sat as placeholders for where the others were to sit. Bundelball’s administrative staff had made sure enough champagne, scotch, beer and cigars were in storage for the occasion. Not that he would tolerate anyone getting drunk at this retreat.

In the master bedroom which he had taken for himself, Bundelball stood as a tailor was putting the finishing touches on his uniform with a lint roller. Everyone was already downstairs waiting. But Bundelball knew it was improper for him, the most senior of the group, to show up in any order other than last. A full length mirror was presented to him. Satisfied, he nodded than began to make his way downstairs.

The table was already seated with men who were smoking and chattering away in uniform. When Bundelball entered they stood, saluted and were told to be at ease. “Gentlemen, welcome! I am glad we are all together once again. It is a rare occasion that we get to celebrate like this but when we do, a special thanks to the Lord is in order. Let us say grace and bring out the food.”

They bowed their heads. Bundelball said a few personal words thanking God for their high spirits, asked for a blessing on their gathering and for strength and wisdom in the coming days. Following that, he said the Catholic grace. They all thumped the table when it was finished and the courses were served on platters. Bratwurst, rouladen and sauerbraten were just some of the dishes presented. Waiters stood at the edges making sure their wine glasses stayed full. Red wine accompanied the meal. After there would be cigars, champagne and whiskey.

For the entirety of it the chatter centered around family. Whose daughter was marrying who and whose son had achieved something in the civilian government or military. Bundelball had made sure the most senior of his command were of the old Prussian aristocracy even when there were more qualified climbers. They were not the industrial elite that seemed to be rising in Regensburg and dominated more modern nations like Novitera for sometime now. But they were wealthy enough tended to occupy government positions. There were voices that criticized Bundelball for being too elitist, too classist and unduly exclusive to the point where it was detrimental to the leadership quality in his sphere.

But he simply scoffed at these remarks stating, “I will not hand down such responsibility to those who have not demonstrated their commitment God and the King through their pedigree. Family is everything and family will tell me all I need to know. I shall entrust leadership to those proven families which serve as the glue of our society.”

This afterall, was not an uncommon practice. Societies tended to have an exclusive elite that guided the flock even if they were vulgar usurpers like the Republican Party members of Ashab or almost as elegant as his own ilk like the Baran of New Edom or the Ghantish nobility. Societies like Chaco had fallen by the wayside allowing their Indies at times to occupy high positions of government. They would pay for their folly in time. Nations like Novitera and Adiron had no aristocracy to begin with allowing any upstart or parvenu into the halls of leadership. Obscene and deplorable. The decadence of their practices were visible in their cultures like the rot of a gangrene. Not that Bundelball ever made such comments public. It served well for those climbers and outsiders to think they could compete on their merits alone.

He looked upon his men smiling and laughing with great jocularity around him with great pride. They were aristocrats of the old blood and gentlemen officers to the core. After every course, wine and cheese was served to clear the palate until this was done one final time for them to begin settling down with cigars and drinks of their choice.

“Gentlemen, I must now sully our joyous gathering with words of business I am afraid.” Bundelball said sadly.

“Apologize not, mein Admiral. No man here regrets doing their duty.” Replied General Klaus Winkelkrotsch, his Luftheer commander.

“Dankenschon, General Winkelkrotsch. You see, mein freundes, war is brewing. We will not be left out if it is to be so. Already troops mobilize in the East. What do we do here besides gaze out upon the Tempesta. The horizon has long been blighted by an eyesore which I wish to remove. Peregrino! Perergino, an outpost of the Noviterans and the Edomites so close to our own shores can be tolerated no longer. We must strike.” He said enthusiastically.

There were knocks on the table in agreement. Admiral Bundelball took a drag of his cigar and savored the taste of brandy which he had dipped the tip in. “A fine proposal mein Admiral. But it is heavily reinforced. Are we capable of such a strike?” Asked Vice Admiral Albrecht Sleimehol.

“I believe it is. Let us wait. Until the Edomite Navy is occupied with our allies. The Noviteran scum are loathe to go to war. They’ll sit and watch, perhaps with enjoyment, as we obliterate the Edomites. I have submitted a proposal for a surprise attack on the Edomite end of the island. We bomb their base. The fuel, radar, communications, munitions, runways. Leave them completely vulnerable to the air. When that is done, a division of Marines to finish off the four regiments already withering on the vine.” Bundelball stated confidently.
“It is a solid plan. One that is not unlike strategies we have worked up before. But would it actually be executed this time? We have gone over this exercise too often before.” Sleimehol asked.

“I do believe it is. Already the nations of the world are preparing for war. Our glorious monarchy has wanted that island for decades. If there is a time to strike, it will be soon. You will be given a binder on the operational plans upon your departure. All will submit to me their recommended revisions within the next two days. I want this approved by high command as soon as possible. Before the Edomites decide to harden their defenses of the island. In the meantime, begin mustering your units. This will be as combined arms doctrine as any operation in modern warfare. Air, land and sea mein freunds.” Said Bundelball.

After that, they talked about the political reality of such an operation and the obstacles of getting it approved. There was little talk of tactical planning More so, who would be in charge of certain units and whether the old Prussian aristocracy in their blood was enough to manifest in effective leadership and ultimately success.

“Major Chestengroper may have a grandmother of common-birth on his mother’s side, but the lineage of his father’s side is impeccable. Three regimental commanders dating back to the 19th century. I think his qualifications are irrefutable. He will make a fine commander of our bombers.” Said General Winkelkrotsch in one of their conversations.

“Indeed General. But I heard his brother entered the banking industry. Most obscene. The Chestengropers family may be falling by the wayside. This would be a good opportunity for the Major to remove the stain on his illustrious family name. We are not without second chances, even thirds. Especially for those with the pedigree. As the Lord is infinite in his mercy, so shall we strive to emulate him.” Replied Bundelball.

Knocks on the table followed. Similar conversations continued throughout the night until the men gathered took their leave.

Post written by: Noviterra
This nation has been taken up by Vionna-Frankenlisch, who retains creative control. Most posts are presently made by Republica de Gran Chaco and Noviterra.For the old owner see Nachtmark.

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Republica De Gran Chaco
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Founded: Jun 29, 2015
Right-wing Utopia

Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Sat Sep 21, 2019 3:42 pm

Yanque, Chaco

“AWACS and Carlano radar out of Flores are detecting a large number of flights coming in from Solisia. Their flight plans are only a recent addition within the last day or so, after the Edomite attack, and aren’t part of the usual schedule of flights that come in and out of New Adeleux. It is extremely likely that it is the Solisians sending the military force that they announce.” Defense Minister Garcia said to the cabinet.

Simon Alvarado laughed, and the little bitch of a foreign minister they have just sent me a letter swearing they were sending no forces. If they are going to lie, why can’t they be convincing?”

The prime minister glared and puffed at his cigarette angrily, “These fools, do not take us seriously. Send a reply Alvarado, make it sound nice, but put the whole damn world on it so they know that Solisia is acting the fool. Garcia, free the military to strike, let San Carlo know that the time is right.”

“Should we wait for the Edomites sir? I am told they are just getting into port.” Garcia asked.

“Yes, fine, for land operations, but let the Carlanos know that not a single new plane goes through after the message is sent to Solisia. We will take them down for being such blatantly insulting liars.” The prime minister said.


To: Carmen Alamillo, Foreign Minister, Solisian Empire
CC: San Carlo, Adiron, Ashab, Queimada, Vionna-Frankenlisch, New Edom, Novitera, New Columbia, The Shrailleeni Empire
From: Simon Alvarado
Subject: Deployment
Security: Medium



Minister,

We have received your letter, and I have attached it to this message as your high security when it was sent will not allow for those attached to my initial inquiry to see your peaceful intentions. It is good that your government desires peace, and I applaud the Solisian Empire for having cool heads in this trying time. Any additional military forces sent to New Columbia at this time would be considered hostile, and of course any forces that were sent from a nation outside of Vionna-Frankenlisch itself would have been considered an outright declaration of war.

We will take you at your word, as your people have never given us any reason to doubt your honest and good intentions.

It may also be important for your people to know that we have also detected a large and unsettling amount of air traffic from your nation into New Columbia. A large amount of chartered civilian aircraft, that seem to have only filed flight plans in the last couple of days have been pouring into New Columbia. We are informing you that from this moment on, we require that you forward your passenger and cargo manifests to the OAS along with their copies of their return tickets or else we will have to deem these strange flights as hostile and will take action against them. If planes in the air must be turned back, then suggest you do so immediately.


Simon Alvarado,
Minister of Foreign Affairs, Republica de Gran Chaco


Attached letter:

To: Simon Alvarado,
Minister of Foreign Affairs, Republica de Gran Chaco
From: Carmen Alamillo, Foreign Minister, Solisian Empire
Subject: Deployment
Encryption: Diamond Class Security, Encrypted, Transmitted over Secure Connection


Dear minister, it is my honor, despite the delay and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding this matter, that it is simply a journalistic error. Her Majesty's government is currently speaking with the writer of the article and hopes that your government would forgive that writer for her mistake, as enthusiastic as she is towards the contribution of our country to the security of our new ally. On the matter of us sending troops to New Columbia however, that is simply a rumor. The writer of the article in question has not bothered to ask us first for any confirmation and she had forgotten to display proper journalistic behavior.

Please rest assured that we mean you no harm and that you will not see any troops from our country on the soil of New Columbia.

Sincerely,

Foreign Minister of Her Majesty's Cabinet
Carmen Alamillo



GCS Guerrero

It was a misty morning out at sea. The GCS Guerrero was a relatively new addition to the Chacano fleet, having been recently purchased from New Edom. The captain had announced to the crew the orders that had come down to stop new flights coming from Solisia into New Columbia. The Air Force, was hopeful that one of the ships on the Ayaca patrol could down the big passenger planes further out, rather than having fighters rush to intercept them.

Captain Miguel Muñoz stood on the bridge of his ship when the phone rang. Miguel picked it up and heard that it was the radar room, “Sir we have just detected the first Solisian plane of the day, the timing is in line with the publicly filed flight plans that we received last night.”

“Thank you, keep tracking.” The Captain said.

He picked up the phone and said to his weapons officer, “You may engage Mr. Pardo.”

Lieutenant Franco Pardo smiled big, and turned to his men. The target was locked and the computer had all the calculations done. He nodded and gave the word, “Fire.”

A big RIM-67 Standard Missile exploded to life and ripped into the sky leaving a trail of white smoke as it headed for the fat airliner.
كان التيز سمين

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