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The Ceylonese Bush War|IC|Closed

PostPosted: Sat Sep 11, 2021 5:03 pm
by South Americanastan
OOC


The Ceylonese Bush War
Aftermath of A26
Image


A26 Highway, Hurricane District

As the sun sets over the Ceylonese horizon, a cleanup crew of Mine Protected Armored Vehicles and Unimog Trucks move along A26 Highway, towards a pair of coordinates given to them. They're on a piece of paper, pinned atop the viewport of the lead vehicle.

7.294904 North, 80.844500 East


The paper also includes their orders.

Site of recent major battle between 1st Brigade and Communist Insurgents. Tow all vehicles found back to Outpost Epsilon, secure abandoned weaponry/munitions, and recover all bodies. Remember to store the friendlies in a different vehicle than the hostiles, so hostile bodies may be burned. If possible, burn them on location. EOD Team 5 will travel with you to clear any Unexploded Ordinance.


The coordinates prove redundant, as a pillar of smoke can be seen rising from the location of the previous battle. The cleanup crew begins to leave their MPRVs to sweep the area before clearing the bodies.

"What the hell..."

In front of them lays a gruesome scene, SADF marked trucks lay abandoned, dead bodies hanging over the side of their truck beds, while some men still lay on the floor, clutching their M76 Rifle. Other trucks lay on their side, hit blasts from insurgent RPGs. On the sides of the road lay piles of dead insurgents, hit by a combination of precise rifle shots and sweeping machine gun fire. Just behind them, a large crater formed by SAAF AGMs can be seen, with the barely recognizable remains of insurgents scattered in and around it. In the back of an overturned truck, a radio can be heard playing, still looping the same track it had been playing when the battle first started.

"In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light, I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence"


The cleanup crew split off into teams, one moving down the main road, the other advancing towards the crater. Vehicles are hitched to the back of the SADF MPAVs, while bodies are stored in the bed of one of the Unimog trucks. The other Unimog carries abandoned ammunition and weapons. Meanwhile, the team in the forest hauls the insurgent bodies towards the crater. The bodies are tossed in, before being doused in gasoline. The team lights a stick on fire, before tossing it in. The fire erupts, singing the hair of some of the closer soldiers.

As the teams clear bodies, the EOD Team looks for UXOs. They find 3 unexploded AGM missiles, which are controlled detonated on the spot. They find multiple unexploded 20mm HE rounds, which are disarmed before being thrown into the crater with the insurgent bodies in it.

As the men reenter the IFVs, they can take solace in the fact that the battle itself was a resounding SADF victory. Though some could not help but wonder, "At what cost?"

PostPosted: Sat Sep 11, 2021 7:55 pm
by New Antarcticania
"Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun"
-Mao Zedong, "Problems of War and Strategy,"

Some 15 nautical miles miles from the Eastern Sri Lankan coast...
12:23 AM


"15 miles from shore, Sir"

"Very well, full stop. Prepare to deploy our cargo."

"Aye, sir."

The 3rd officer gives his superior; in this case- the captian a salute, before exiting the bridge of the Freight. The helms man puts the ship to a full stop.

With the flick of a switch from the captian, the red emergency lights flick on, with no alarm to follow. Normally, this would indicate a order to abandon ship- however, in this case. It means that a order to deploy the Freight's Attached craft has been given.

If any Coast guard vessel catches them during this period, it's game over...

Not everything is agianst them, however. As the Freighter, ironically named "integrity"- has undergone a few modifications before her departure from Antartican waters.

-1. The Integrity's radar system has been replaced from a normal maritime version to a improved millitary one. with it's range increasing from 48 Nautical Miles to 70 Nautical miles, with a surface detection range of 12 Nautical miles. This enables her to detect and account any incoming aircraft and Millitary vessles much earlier..

-2. The Integrity has gutted most of its areas that were deemed unessecary (e.g: Recreational rooms, Living quarters, Etc.) And has replaced it with additional propulsion systems and fuel tanks. allowing it to go to 30 knots when set to full flank. Unfortunately, Depsite the additional fuel tanks, The Integrity's fuel tanks can only last some 40 minutes when She's going that fast.

-4. Most living living quarters that haven't been gutted by the Changes mentioned above has had to replace their beds with four bunks per room, officers quarters have two bunks per room. Meaning the captian is the only one that has a bed for himself.

-5. All of the devices that has allowed Millitary and maritime ships to identify and track the Integrity has been removed. Upgrading her stealth Capabilities

And lastly..
-6. All of the Integrity's lifeboats have been replaced with millitary hovercraft, allowing for the transporting of cargo to shore, unfortunately. Limitations in space and weight only allow for 6 of these overdraft to be deployed instead of the usual 12 lifeboats. These are attached to Davits on the integrity's port and starboard sides respectively.

-7. Much of the Integrity's cargo space has been replaced Ibn favor of it's own independent crane systems, fitted onto the port and starbord sides of the ship respectively, these are responsible for loading the cargo onto the hovercraft whils stationary on the water, held by steel cables of the davit.


Speaking of the hovercraft, the loading process is underway, with only one peice of cargo loaded and secured per hovercraft because of it's sheer weight. The Hovercraft's driver secures the cargo, strapping it to buckles on either side of the Object, before the davit disconnects, and the hovercraft is let loose.

The small fleet speeds towards the Beach....
If it succeeds, The cargo's engines roar to life, and the Antartica's operation on Sri lanka has begun, as the Civlian mini-pickups speed off into the forest under a bright moon.

If it fails...
Well, that's what bribes are for, isnt it?

PostPosted: Sat Sep 11, 2021 8:13 pm
by New Kowloon Bay
10 miles from the Southern Sri Lankan coast
1:25 AM




'We've spotted land, sir.'

'Well, that's what we're bloody looking for, ain't it? Well, prepare for landing and hope Hambontota hasn't suddenly been overrun by terrorists.'

'Not likely, sir.'

'You don't know. Now scram and PREPARE FOR LANDING.'

'SIR YES SIR!'

The major hastily leaves the captain's office, and runs to the ship control. Radioing the naval base, they send a message.

This is the battleship NKS Milton. We request to dock at your naval base. Please respond ASAP.


Speeding towards the Hambontota Naval Base, the experienced soldiers seemed causal, smoking cigarettes and playing cards, although they all dreaded what would happen next. The Intervention in Sri Lanka had begun.

PostPosted: Sat Sep 11, 2021 10:45 pm
by Laka Strolistandiler
-Genosse and Kameraden! Today, we arrive in Shri La… Sri Kla… Kri La… oh, to hell with that, we arrive to an Asian country, where the terrori… trerori…- political officer of the motostrelki battalion’s work was certainly compromised by him suffering from dyslexia,often mistyping and mispronouncing words during his speeches and in the unit’ wall newspaper. Neither the less, both enlistees and conscripts bared with him- for he was a fairly good person, both as an officer and a fellow Lakan…
Several giant An-225 cargo planes (OOC: I haven’t mentioned them in the ORBAT because they’re going 2 leave IMMEDIATELY after they deploy the were troops) coming in for landing in the CMB airport, swiftly taxiing in to tarmac, where they were to unload troops and cargo. Amongst hundreds and hundreds of motorized infantry units, multiple IFV’s and BTR’s came off the ramp, however, all of the men knew that this wasn’t even nearly close to how much armor they were getting- a few days later, some armed cargo ships would arrive to the ports, bound to deliver their heavier equipment- tanks, BREM’s, bridge-layers, etc. For now, the troops already in the Sri Lanka were tasked with far simpler tasks of setting up a temporary base and beginning their localized training, to better accommodate to the local climate. Moreover than that, the already arrived Fokkers had began flying reconnaissance missions over rebel-controlled area, photographing in multiple specters, hopefully, to detect any rebels holdouts before they’re going to be camouflaged. The planes will return soon- and when they’ll do, they’re going to bring in something deadlier than the bombs.

PostPosted: Sat Sep 11, 2021 11:50 pm
by Allanea
Image
Official Message from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs[


Dear Sir or Madam!

Please accept my most respectful condolences for the death of innocents in the struggle against the Communist threat. I understand that your nation had recently had to take the unfortunate step of limiting the franchise to prevent some twerps from taking over, and that this has led – unfortunately yet predictably -to civil war in your country.

I believe that Allaneans can help. Counterterrorism operations, preventing Communist takeovers, and vengeance and justice for the crimes of the Maoist are what one could call 'core competencies' of the Free Kingdom government.

I propose the following core actions:

1. To form a multi-agency expert team that will assist your country in finding a range of solutions to undermine the support of Communist and ultranationalist movements and improving the quality of life of all Ceylonese, while simultaneously coordinating a strategy of direct kinetic action against the enemies of the Ceylonese in the air, in the seas, on the ground and underground.

I propose to deploy, as part of this team:

a.) Professor Joseph R. Thompson, author of the books The Economics of Terrorist Movements, Undermining Terrorism In the Long-Term, and What Management Studies Teach About Terrorism. He is a Chair of Economics at the University of New Ascalon, and is currently on sabbatical. He is perfectly willing to assist your nation.

b) Zacharia S. Greely, architect. He is with the Greely, Curringer, Rabinowitz, & co. , and will be advising your country's authorities on implementing a range of architectural and infrastructure projects to minimize your cities' vulnerabilities to terrorist attacks and improve the lifestyle of your citizens.

c) Ambassador Natalia Kolomietz. She is the Team Lead and will be coordinating with several Allanean private charities on the disbursal of aid funds, creating economic and educational opportunities, etc.

d) Captain Mark Baker, the military liaison. He will coordinate with Free Kingdom kinetic operations.

Beyond this, soldiers of the Acorn Special Reconnaissance Battalion will be landed within your country to conduct direct actions within terrorist-control areas, to deny and degrade terrorist safe havens. A ship of the Free Kingdom Navy will operate somewhere in international waters to provide Acorn with communications and logistics needs. The main items required to make this work is for us to work out, diplomatically, what are the rules of engagements for our soldiers, that's to say, what we can and cannot blow up (obviously, we all hope to control the terrorist-held areas again one day, and moreover and more seriously everyone living in those areas including even the terrorists themselves are your fellow citizens, and we want to respect that as we plan our campaign).

Time is of the essence.
Any information you have that would assist us in carrying out our campaign would be welcomed.

Yours, Grand Ambassador Simon Gardner,
Free Kingdom Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Office for Counterterrorism

PostPosted: Sun Sep 12, 2021 4:30 pm
by The French Popular State
Capitaine de frégate Toulon stood on the bridge of the Nivôse, looking at the island ahead of him. When the decision was made by the government to intervene in the ongoing conflict to intervene in Sri Lanka, he immediately volunteered, as well as 370 volunteers. He saw this as an opportunity to gain fame and glory (despite being a rather small conflict compared to the recent civil war) and as a way to further his career. Meanwhile, the frigate was approaching a port. Behind them was a transport ship carrying the troops, another transport carrying the armoured vehicles, and another carrying the aerial forces. Also, the Nivôse was carrying three French intelligence agents, for [REDACTED], off the charts of course.

The force would disembark at Colombo, where they would then begin to move out in the VABs (Armoured Personnel Carrers) to contested areas between Republic and NF forces. Meanwhile, the French military had requested that the SADF allow them to use one of their airbases (alongside SADF forces) to house the French aerial force, which consists of 5 multirole jet fighters and 7 attack helicopters. Currently, an answer is yet to be received. The French government hopes that the conflict won't turn into something like Vietnam, because they would be wasting time and resources that would be better used for other things.

PostPosted: Thu Sep 16, 2021 7:40 am
by Kyraina
The RKNS and her 3 Escorts sat off the East Coast of Sri Lanka, with the Skyline of Batticaloa in the distance. The crew on the deck of the ESB heard the growl of turboprop engines, and looked up to see a flight of 4 RNAF C-130s that were on approach to Batticaloa International Airport. The Federal Kingdom of Kyraina (FKK) had just started to send in Aid to help with Humanitarian Aid and help clear out mines & IEDs in the Central Highlands of the Hurricane district. The 4 C-130s were the first of many flights to bring in the FKK Corps of Engineers and the supplies needed to get to the central highlands and get started.

Mean while on the Dutch Harbor, a RKAF CV-22 was boarding by the RKAF CATC (Combat Air Traffic Controller) Spec Ops team and a 20 Man RKAF Security Forces team, with the Job of picking out a suitable sight for a Airbase/Air Port.

PostPosted: Sat Sep 18, 2021 4:25 pm
by South Americanastan
The Ceylonese Bush War
Gun 'n' Run
Image


A1 Highway, Hurricane District

Oh, you look out your window at the cold grey dawn
It's seven o'clock on a Monday morning,
Pour a cup of coffee, better make it a strong one,
Weather man on the radio says
It's going to rain and it's going to blow
It'll be all right, it'll be all right
It'll be all right in the long run


The radio attached to the handles of the lead motorcycle blared music as one of the 1st Brigade, Light Infantry's 5-man motorcycle patrols sped down the A1 Highway. A monsoon ravages the area, pouring down rain onto the highway. The clouds block out the sun, shrouding the area in a quasi-night. The headlights of the motorcycles are the only source of light to be found, as the wind bends many of the trees alongside the highway.

The road is cracked and run down, as multiple IED detonations have forced SADF engineers to work hastily to fix the road. The rain removes any grip from the Asphalt, and the men elect to take an adjacent dirt road, allowing their motorcycles to grip the surface better.

The 5 men yell over the sound of the wind to communicate.

"Goddamnit, why do we have to do this shit in the middle of a monsoon?"

"Because it's our job, Hawkins."

"Why can't they send the helos for this stuff?"

"Because the wind will knock the helos out of the sky, and they wouldn't be able to see shit in this weather. Plus, at least you've got a boonie, Jenkins here has nothing, and he's not complaining."

"Yeah! Toughen the fuck up, little rain never hurt anybody."

"With all due respect, Sergeant, Jenkins is from Nova Scotia, he probably doesn't even know what a clear sky is, let alone experienced it!"

Their conversation is stopped short by a gunshot from the opposite side of the highway sailing between two of the motorcycles.

"SHIT! GET DOWN!"

The men quickly dismount their motorcycles by putting the bikes into a 90 degree turn, and jumping off at the same time. They use the dismounted motorbikes for cover, and return fire towards the forest. The dense brush and horrible weather make the insurgents nigh-impossible to spot, and the patrol is stuck firing blindly.

One of the men tries to reach for the radio on the motorbike, but a gunshot reaches it before he can, disabling the radio and isolating the patrol, as the soldiers' personal radios are not functioning due to the weather and the area's isolation. The sound of automatic fire from SAR M76s rings through the air, while the squad's machine gunner lays down suppressing fire.

However, the fireteam is outnumbered and outgunned. AKM rounds ricochet off of the motorcycles' metal frames, and the insurgents use the heavy cover to their advantage. Makeshift flash hiders conceal the positions of the insurgents, while the wind only gets stronger, kicking up dust and mud. The squad's machine gun jams, and with no way to field strip it without exposing themselves to enemy fire, the machine gun goes silent.

Suddenly, noises can be heard from the forest behind them.

A hail of gunfire whizzes over the men, sweeping through the brush opposite of them. Pools of crimson red begin flowing out from the opposite treeline as yelling can be heard, though the men cannot translate the Sinhalan words. The insurgents pull out from the forest, and the gunfire stops. Meanwhile, the source of the gunfire disappears back into the forest.

Ceylon Military Command (CEYMILCOM), Colombo, Green Zone, Sri Lanka

In the center of the city of Colombo stands a building. The building, despite only being 3 stories tall, houses the beating heart of CSF/SADF Operations in Ceylon. On the first floor is reception and some low-level offices. On the second floor lies more offices, most of them belonging to accounting and communications. On the third floor, however, lies the military command of the CSF, along with the SADF Operations in Ceylon. The floor is filled with computers, as Generals and high-ranking officers type dispatches or orders.

An aide arrives on the floor, with 3 pieces of paper in hand. She walks to the office of the CSF Commander, Abdullah Muhabayed, and gives him one of them, a request from New Kowloon Bay to dock in the Ceylonese Ports.

FROM: CEYMILCOM
TO: NKS Milton

You have permission to dock and unload at the Hambontota Naval Base.


She then walks down the hall to the office of the SADF Commander, Jack Smith, and hands him the other two. The first is a request from the French Popular State to use an SADF Airbase.

FROM: CEYMILCOM
TO: The Nivôse

After some consideration, We have decided to grant you permission to use an Airbase. You may use Negombo Airbase as a takeoff and landing point for any of your aircraft.


The second is the longest of the three papers, a message from Allanea. Smith decides to give the paper, to Muhabayed, as the native commander has more knowledge of the situation on the ground.

Allanea wrote:Biggus -Snippus-


FROM: CEYMILCOM
TO: FREE KINGDOM MINISTRY OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS, OFFICE FOR COUNTERTERRORISM

Thank you for your condolences on the situation in Ceylon. We have been working hard to protect civilians from the Communist nd Nationalist threat.

We accept your offer of a multi-agency team, as we believe it could massively help defeat the threat posed by the National Front, and improve the civilian situation in our lands. Your propositions for members of the team seem solid, and we would be happy to have them in the fight against the Communist threat. Unfortunately, Ceylon itself cannot offer anyone to join this team, and our allies in South Americanastan have been given too short notice to compile a list of willing candidates.

The rules of engagement are as follows:

1.) Non-Combatants may not be engaged with, no matter the circumstances

1a.) A non combatant is defined as a person(s) not involved in any engagement and without hostile intent

2.) To be considered a combatant, there must be confirmation of hostile intent, whether visual or auditory,

2a.) Any non-combatant who comes within 20 Meters of a combatant, and refuses orders to move away and poses a threat, may be considered a combatant

3.) If in or near a known military outpost, rules of engagement do not apply as long as the decision to engage is within a reasonable extent.

PostPosted: Sun Sep 19, 2021 11:16 am
by South Americanastan
/bump

PostPosted: Sun Sep 19, 2021 11:04 pm
by Allanea
Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat. ¬ Sun Tzu, the 'Art of War'

It is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles; if you do not know your enemies but do know yourself, you will win one and lose one; if you do not know your enemies nor yourself, you will be imperiled in every single battle. ¬ Sun Tzu, 'The Art of War'

The Allanean team made their home at a hotel in Colombo. The entire hotel would be rented out for the team's use, and what rooms were not used by the team itself would remain empty for now. Natalia Kolomiets, the Ambassador who was leading the team, immediately made sure that the hotel's wi-fi would be shut off, and the team used its own routers and systems – all of them encrypted, of course – for any work.

And work there would be. The Allaneans immediately solicited their counterparts in the government of Sri Lanka for information – identities of the known terrorist commanders, known terror camps, and the layouts and engineering maps of any towns currently under the National Front's control.

Simultaneously with this, the Free Kingdom Space Force collected satellite images of central Sri Lanka in several spectrums – ordinary satellite photography, infra-red, and radar. This allowed them to look for the openings of bunker networks, terror camps, drug farms – but also, of course, for the tell-tale marks of freshly moved soil, slightly warmer than the surrounding land, that would tell of any mass graves.

PostPosted: Mon Sep 20, 2021 1:16 am
by New Kowloon Bay
Hambontota Naval Base

Boots crunched on the tarmac, most of them belonging to fresh-faced soldiers, armed with a selection of the newest weapons available. The older soldiers scoffed. They had been in far too many wars and battles to be nervous. To them, this was yet another meaningless scuffle. The young ones were far, far away from where the real fighting began, yet their boots were already shaking with fear. They immediately rushed to the nearest covered building, and slid a large map over the wooden table inside.

Their plans were simple. They would advance up the A2 and A23 highways straight into the Victoria Randenigala Rantembe Sanctuary, where it was said that the Consitutionalists and the Communists lay in wait.

Meanwhile, an NKB officer contacted their partners in the Sri Lanka government, asking for the identities of known terrorists, the most exact location of their military camps, the approximate number of troops, and the layouts of towns currently under their control.

In the midst while this was happening, two aircraft began their journeys over Sri Lanka.

PostPosted: Tue Sep 21, 2021 6:18 am
by Allanea
Selection from a Lecture by Professor Joseph R. Thompson, as given at the Allanean Inter-Agency Team Headquarters in Colombo


Greetings, everyone.

I know some of you are wondering, why would a business economist be present at a counterterrorism conference, and that's absolutely a reasonable question to ask. The answer is that a lot of my research is in the economics of terrorism and I have some insights which I will be sharing with you in the hopes that they'll help us in dealing with the present problem.

Now, when I speak of the economics of terrorism, I'm not talking about how terrorists make money and fund their terror groups, although that's a very important topic. I'm talking about how we can use the language that economists use to discuss businesses and to think about businesses, to think about terrorists and their motivations.

So what we must think of is: what is a terrorist group? If you ignore the murder and the crimes then a terrorist group is a political non-profit, well, most of the time it's a non-profit, that's oriented towards solving a series of problems that the public believes are serious problems. This doesn't mean that members of the group don't also derive personal benefits, but the main idea is, our country has those problems, and we can promise those solutions if you join up with us or provide us with help.

And so a state that is fighting terrorism has to do two things. One part of it is definitely the violence. It's absolutely true that you need to fight the terrorists, and arrest the terrorists, and disrupt their activities. And I'm not a military man so I am going to avoid commenting about how to shoot the terrorists or which missiles you should use, because that's not my department.

But what I'd like to talk about is the fact that the state – and anyone who wants to help the state – needs to be solving the underlying problems that are causing people to join the terror group. Many people are of the opinion that you should avoid making any kind of changes which the terrorists want, because the terrorists want them, and so if you make those changes then you seem weak and that encourages the bad guys. And then they try and postpone any kind of changes until after the terrorists are defeated. Well this often fails. You can see what the route to failure here is.

So the answer is, in my mind, to be making changes that address the underlying problems that the terrorists promise the public they'll address. And meanwhile you also fight and kill the terrorists. So the message you're sending the public is: We are going to solve the problems better than the terrorists do, but if you join up with the terrorists, you will probably die and you will not achieve your goal.

And while there are many deep problems in this country, there's a lot of poverty and disease and homelessness. We're lucky in a sense – and I hate to use the word 'lucky' because there's a lot of genuine human suffering – because there's a lot of problems that we can fix relatively cheaply. And if we fix those problems, we will cause knock-on effects that will accelerate and will propel the Republic of Ceylon forward and make life better for everyone and will genuinely improve the place.


[lecture continues for some time]

* * *

Image


From:Ambassador Natalia Kolomietz, Free Kingdom Inter-Agency Counterterror Team, Colombo, Republic of Ceylon
To: Government of the Republic of Ceylon, all anti-terror powers
Dear friends!
Initial data collection and the Free Kingdom Ministry of Foreign Affairs International Development Questionnaire has revealed a series of economic and development issues facing the Republic of Ceylon. Most dire of them is a high rate of homelessness, a high rate of contagious disease and particularly malaria (malaria deaths currently exceed deaths from terrorism by a wide margin).

We believe that while absolutely, certainly, we must kill the terrorist scumbags, and we will kill a lot of them and drive them before us and hear the lamentations of their lovers, to fully address the situation we absolutely must address the driving economic despair in the Republic.

We remind you that the costs of vaccinating a single individual against Malaria are approximately $5 New Dornalian. Were we to defeat Malaria on the island this alone would generate a high rate of economic growth.

As such we propose that we cooperate on the issues of poverty, infrastructure failure, disease, and economic reform, just as we cooperate on terrorism. It would be ideal if you informed us regarding your plan to combat these underlying issues.

P.S. Also we must kill the Communists.

Yours,
Ambassador Natalia Kolomietz

PostPosted: Tue Sep 21, 2021 5:25 pm
by New Antarcticania
Somewhere on a Sri Lankan Expressway
Ground task force "Tara"
54th Republican guard brigade
24 hours after insertion


shshshsh.....
Shhhs.....

The Hand fiddled with the knob on the radio, attempting to find a suitable radio station to help then stave off the usual boredom that sets in during road trips like these.

News about the conflict.....
More news....
Even more news....

Finally, the driver settles on something.... 96.6FM, "LEGENDS".
.....
"hey, this sounds pretty good!"

The driver, a Vietnamese man in his Early 30s, returns his focus to driving his Pickup, a typical sight in asian countries. Sitting beside the driver Is another Vietnamese man in his 30s, wearing a white shirt and khaki trousers. Both looking fairly relaxed, and just trying to get to their destination as fast as possible whilst a GPS system barks directions st the two.

Every so often, however. The man riding shotgun would look back over the rear window to check on the cargo they're carrying, to see if the tarp they tossed over the boxes was still holding, or- god forbid, they lost one of the boxes.
The truck continues to speed down the expressway, when all of the sudden, they make a turn towards a secondary road. Just a few miles down that possibly ied-laden road, their destination.

Communist territory.

Sure, it was a high risk to just drive into insurgent territory and just announce that they have weapons to give to them. But how else were they going to make contact? In case they were a ambush, however. There was one thing that could save them, a Antartican flag, lying downin between their seats, a indication towards the insurgents to signal that they too, were communists.

After all, you can't give out the AKs laying on the trunk of your truck if you're dead.

PostPosted: Wed Sep 22, 2021 6:46 pm
by South Americanastan
September 22nd, 2021

The Ceylonese Bush War
The Killing Machine
Image


220 Meters North of Randenigala Dam, Hurricane District, Ceylon

"Operation Hardball is a go"

As the ZB-98 Helicopters advanced over the horizon, the NF forces north of the Rendenigala Dam prayed to Buddha. Tonight was the night of the September full moon, and, as the Buddhist faith followed a Lunar Calendar, tonight was a night for prayer. Then 1BLI fireforce swooped in, their SAR M76s stocks folded, while the miniguns of the choppers scanned the landscape, waiting for contact. In the lead was an HG-91 "Kill Car", rockets and cannons loaded and at the ready. Just above was two M1-30 "Hermes" Transport Planes. However, unlike fireforces before it, there was something different about it. This fireforce was a "Jumbo" fireforce, consisting of 128 1st Brigade, Light Infantry soldiers, with, unlike the usual 1 transport and 4 transport choppers, had double both numbers.

The insurgents continued praying, having no knowledge of the impending threat. 200 of them sat in the mosque of the outpost, assigned to guard the strategically important Randenigala Dam, a major source of power. The position provided power to nearly the entirety of the National Front's southeast pocket, making it one of the strongest. It was one of the few places in Central Ceylon where the lights still flickered in the windows of houses, and also one of the few places where the NF firmly controlled the entire area.

As the helicopters swooped in lower, and, as they got closer to their targets, they split into two separate fireforces. The attack helicopter split off with the fireforce moving south, as to not alert the northern position due to it's loud sound. The south fireforce quickly deployed south of the dam, making sure to keep as quiet as possible. They approached an insurgent position, usually manned by 100 men, but currently unoccupied due to prayer and the insurgent's failing to predict a penetration this deep into the pocket. The only sound made by the men were whispers passed between sticks, as they secured the abandoned insurgent position.

And then, they lay in wait.

Meanwhile, in the north, the fireforce took a much longer time. The helicopters circled the area, much to the delight of the soldiers. Music blared from the lead transport helicopter, which, while audible to the helicopters close behind, was nearly undetectable to the men in the Temple.

London calling to the faraway towns,
Now war is declared and battle come down,
London calling to the underworld,
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls,
London calling, now don't look to us,
Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust,
London calling, see we ain't got no swing,
Except for the ring of the truncheon thing,

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in,
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin,
Engines stop running, but I have no fear,
'Cause London is drowning,
I live by the river


As the helicopters flew closer to the ground, the sound became detectable from inside the temple. The men inside scrambled for the Avtomat Kalashnikovs as the fireforce dropped down from their helicopters. Some of the helicopters hovered only 4-6 feet off the ground, as the troops it was carrying made the jump off. Others stayed at a safer height of 10-15 feet, as their transports fast-roped down. The 4 helicopters deployed in a semicircle around the insurgent positions, leaving the route across the dam open. The sticks in the M1-30s jumped out of the cargo bay at an altitude considered deadly to all but the most experienced skydivers, opening their parachutes almost immediately after jumping. They landed in the dense brush of the surrounding woodland, and quickly began to move up, filling the holes between the 4 helicopter sticks.

The fireforce quickly advances towards the Temple and it's surroundings, catching the insurgents as they leave the Temple. The precise fire of SAR rifles downs insurgents attempting to return fire, while bullets inaccurately whizz by them. The men manage to stay concealed in the bushes, emptying magazines from 3 sides of the insurgents. Bullet casings litter the brush as the men advance. The National Front insurgents who aren't immediately cut down attempt a retreat across the dam.

Right into the arms of Fireforce South.

The men of Fireforce South flip their fire selectors to Automatic, and aim their rifles towards the entrance of the dam. The insurgents retreat down the dam in an attempt to engage Fireforce North through the chokepoint on the other side. Little do they know, that chokepoint has been secured by Fireforce South. The men hide behind the sandbags and walls of the insurgent outpost, while others use tall grass and bushes for concealment. They wait silently for the insurgents to come within range, then...

"WEAPONS HOT! WEAPONS FREE!"

A swarm of automatic fire emanates from Fireforce South, cutting down the remaining insurgents. Bodies pile on top of one another as the insurgents desperately try to return fire. Some attempt to hide under and behind the dead and dying bodies of their comrades, but it is no use. The Fireforce's powerful 7.62 NATO rounds pierce through the bodies, making what little cover the insurgents have useless. In an attempt to escape, some insurgents attempt to jump over the side of the dam, but it is useless. Whatever insurgents don't die on impact are sucked into the Dam's turbines, towards a painful death.

When the final 7.62 bullet hits it's target, the fireforce tallies up the bodies of insurgents, along with their own casualties. 167 Bodies are found, with the other 33 reported missing, most likely having jumped over the side of the dam. Meanwhile, the fireforce tallies up 1 wounded man, having sustained a broken rib from a 9mm round stopped by his Level II plate.

Soon after, the second wave arrived, and they loaded up into ATCV 17s, travelling back to Kandy.

The 1st Brigade has now found it's new nickname.

The Killing Machine.

The Ceylonese Bush War
Policing the Unpoliceable
Image


Mulgama, Epsilon District, Ceylon

As the sun begins to reach the height of it's arch, two trucks drive down an isolated road, with rain plinking down onto their canopies. The trucks are unmarked, but the men in them are. They are members of the Ceylonese Security Forces, the conglomeration of native democratic militias raised to fight the National Front. Some of the men hold FALs, others AK-47s, and the lead holds a TRR-A1. They make a turn onto a small bridge, crossing a stream into an estate. The men hop out of their trucks soon after crossing the bridge, and proceed on foot.

As they approach, they scan the area for hostiles, trying their best to stay in the shadows as they come closer to their target. Soon enough, they reach a large house, it's sparkling glass windows and glistening white paint nearly hypnotizing the soldiers in awe. However, there is no time to marvel at the wonders of this property, as they have a target to capture. They stack up on the door of the house, which belongs to Hamad Askareem, a landowner and major donor to the Communist Party. He is also a suspected terrorist, financing the NF's military wing along with it's political one.

The lead man, holding a TRR-A1, kicks the door under it's knob, caving it in. The 15 men storm into the house, moving through the entrance and living room.

"CEYLONESE SECURITY FORCES! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

A man on the couch jolts a wake, who is quickly identified as Hamad Askareem. 4 of the men quickly pounce on him, handcuffing him and leading him out of the house. They press him against one of the trucks, and the lead man pulls out a megaphone.

"This man you see hear is a terrorist by the name of Hamad Askareem. Mr. Askareem, if you can even call a man who performs such acts worthy of the title "Mr.", funded terrorists. We would like for you to all witness what has happened to Mr. Askareem. He is handcuffed, pressed up against a truck, and likely about to go to prison for a long time. This is what happens when you fight against our country, it's equality, and it's patriots."

They lead Hamad Askareem into the back of the truck, and drive to a nearby forest, leaving ten men behind. Despite what it seems at first glance, the canopies aren't there for the rain, they're there to hide what the men are about to do.

"So, Mr. Askareem. Would you like to tell us what we want to know?" The lead man pulls out a combat knife, and gestures to 6 jugs of water in the back of the truck bed "Or would you like this to be a little... harder?"

"I'm not telling you shit, you elitist pig!"

"How sad, Mr. Askareem, we hoped this could be easy. Oh well, I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."

The 3 other men tie Askareem's hands behind his back, and pin him to the floor. The lead grabs one of the jugs of water.

Before approaching Askareem, the lead turns on a radio, cranking it up to full volume.

"Tonight's the night that we got the truck
We're going downtown, gonna beat up drunks
Your turn to drive, I'll bring the beer
It's an easy shift, no one to fear

Let's ride, ride how we ride
Let's ride, low ride

It's roundup time where the good whores meet
We're gonna drag one screaming off the street

Let's ride, ride how we ride
Got a black uniform and a silver badge

Playing cops for real, playing cops for pay
Let's ride, low ride"


"So... Mr. Askareem" The lead tosses the empty jug to the side "Would you like to tell us what we want to know yet?"

Askareem spits out a mouthful of water onto the leads feet.

"Never. There is nothing to tell you, anyway, I have done nothing wrong, leave me alone. If your republic is so equa-"

Let's ride, ride how we ride
Got a black uniform and a silver badge

Playing cops for real, playing cops for pay
Let's ride, low ride

Pull down your dress, here's a kick in the ass
Let's beat you blue, 'till you shit your pants
Don't move child, I gotta big black stick
There's six of us babe, so suck on my dick

Ride, ride how we ride
Ride, low ride

The left newspapers might whine a bit
But the guys at the station, they don't give a shit
Dispatch calls, "Are ya doin' somethin' wicked?"
"No siree, Jack, we're just givin' tickets!"


Askareem begins hacking up water, his coughs nearly managing to overcome the loud music.

"So... Mr. Askareem... are you done yet? It's become quite annoying for me, as well."

Hamad Askareem, breathing heavily, manages to formulate a response.

"Okay... okay... just don't hurt me or my family... they'll come for me if they know I said anything."

"They won't know anything, Mr. Askareem."

"Check... Check the... Check the nightstand drawer... in the bedroom... everything you want to know is in there."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Askareem."

The lead orders the men back at the house to sweep the bedroom, and the truck drives off.

Inside, the men find a treasure trove of information. Contacts, addresses, and maps. Smoking guns for almost anyone they couldn't convict in a court. Using these findings, a list of terrorists are sent to CSF allies, along with copies of the maps found.

OOC Note: Please do not call these numbers. They are completely made up, and I do not know who holds them.

List of Suspected Ceylonese Terrorists

1. Jakar Madaheen (M)
-Colombo Street, Kandy
-Phone Number (123) 982-439
-Suspected of arming terrorist organizations
-Factory Worker

2. Mikala Fakana (F)
-Bazaar Street, Madulla
-Phone Number (124) 291-819
-Suspected of building Improvised Explosive Devices
-Unemployed

3. Hashakala Masheeka (F)
-Buwanabeka Road, Walahagoda
-Phone Number (142) 815-917
-Suspected of supplying terrorist organizations
-Farmer

4. Wakanaba Heeshaka (M)
-Elephant Island, Trincomalee
-Phone Number (117) 342-918
-Suspected of smuggling illegal drugs and weapons
-Dock Worker

5. Hakanacha Masheeka (M)
-Lenin Mawatha, Anuradhapura
-Phone Number (184) 192-999
-Suspected of coordinating anti-government activity
-Landlord

6. Meeshara Hanadapaka (F)
-Pola Para, Dambulla
-Phone Number (023) 985-461
-Suspected of leading anti-government violence
-Political Activist

7. Hakadema Jakaneer (M)
-Convent Road, Kurunegala
-Phone Number (182) 733-999
-Suspected of providing Medical Care to fugitives
-Doctor

PostPosted: Thu Sep 23, 2021 12:57 pm
by Bolslania
2 miles of the coast of Constitutionalist Territory



"Well, so far so good." A young man said. He was standing next to an older man on the starboard railing on a transport ship steaming for the Kyrainian base of operations. The older man scoffed, tobacco smoke from his cigarette drifting off in to the sky.

"We haven't even reached the island yet Lieutenant." The young Lieutenant, Mueller, grinned slightly.

"I know sir, I'm just trying to make myself feel better." He chuckled. The older man, Captain Davis- Veteran of Vietnam, man who had worked his way all the way up from private- smiled.

"Understandable. I bet many of the men below our feet are doing the same thing son." He said. They let the silence hang for a moment.

"Hey look over there. Thats the Kyrainian fleet." Mueller said, pointing to distant silhouettes of naval ships sitting silently in the water ahead of them.




On the Bridge'

The Captain of the Angel sat calmly at his con. He and everyone else on the bridge saw the Kyrainian vessels. But he wasn't concerned. It had already been predetermined that the Bolslanians and Kyrainians were to be working together, even houses their soldiers in the same base.

"Comms, get me contact with those Kyrainian ships." He said, taking a break from his pipe.

"Aye Aye Captain" came the reply. Moments later it was followed up with confirmation of contact.

"Kyrainian Naval Vessels. This is BNS Angel requesting permission to continue with docking and unloading procedures. Over." He said, he leaned back. Waiting for a reply.

PostPosted: Thu Sep 23, 2021 2:56 pm
by Allanea
Somewhere in the jungles of Sri Lanka

The men moved in silence. They did not speak. They communicated only in gestures, the man at the front raising a hand to signal those behind him to stop, or to continue moving. Their weapons and gear were fitted to their clothing or secured in their bags in such a manner as not to clank even with a sudden movement. Their faces were painted over, with lighter makeup where shadows fell and darker on the more prominent features, preventing their skin from glistening in the sun and breaking up the features of a human face. Their weapons were wrapped in cloth or painted over, lest a hidden observer notice the murderous glint of a rifle or shotgun. The men who covered the rear checked the trail for signs that the commandos had passed there, and, where they could, removed them.

The men were but one squad of Battalion Oakshield. Three squads were deployed, and two left in reserve. It would take the squads days to reach their targets within rebel territory, walking in night and resting in the day. Still even in the dark it was humid and hot, and the men's uniforms stuck to their body.

Among the men, Corporal Klemens von Auspitz was somewhat unique. His appearance was not of an Allanean – though with the makeup, only the shape of his cheekbones and the cut of his eyes betrayed an Edolian nobleman.

No matter what passport he had, no matter his nationality, Auspitz would remain that, forever. The Communists in Edolia had taken his family's land, they had bulldozed his father's groves to raise rise, and had placed some manner of office in his childhood home. They had to flee, like cowards, in an Allanean evacuation plane. But the blood that ran in their veins remained Auspitz blood. As long as they maintained their honor and their dignity they would remain that – even if their countrymen had betrayed them.

And there was no doubt in Auspitz' mind that the Edolians had betrayed his parents, and his uncle, and all the rest of them. They had not been dishonorable, they had lived as Edolian aristocrats should, serving their country as one does.

In the end, it was the failure of education that had done them in – there was an economic crisis, food shortages – of course, Klemens had not suffered of them, but he knew thjey existed. The monarch refused the calls to confiscate the big families' land – he viewed it as unethical to steal the land, famine or no famine, and in truth Klemens von Auspitz doubted it would have helped, anyway. But Klemens was a boy then, and nobody listened to boys – and indeed nobody listened to the Imperator of Edolia either. There was an uprising, and more uprisings, and in the end the Imperator, and the Auspitz family, and all the other noble families, were on planes to Allanea.

This was the life story of Klemens von Auspitz as he understood it.

He was of course not stupid – one cannot be a commando and be stupid.

He understood fully that the Communists that he was to confront in this country were unrelated to the ones in Edolia in every major aspect. Nevertheless, in his mind he viewed them as similar, wishing to steal the land in this country much like the Edolians stole his father's groves and his aunt's summer estate and the monarch's palaces.

He recognized also that to a non-nobleman his anger might seem misplaced.

These were things he simply did not care about. He was above explaining those things to those who could not feel as he did, or arguing with them. He was a soldier, in a country that sent him here to fight. His duties to his new homeland and his aspirations for justice and vengeance aligned, as he saw it, perfectly.

And the rifle slung on his shoulder, pulling on him with its weight, reassured him of how this quest would continue.


* * *


Far overhead, above the cloud cover, the drone buzzed, its propellers nearly inaudible even where the machine was. Its engines were electric, its wings gossamer-slim like those of a dragonfly, gleaming solar panels gathering the sun's life-giving light as its soared and turned. It was too slender, too elegant to carry weapons – no missiles, no guns, no bombs. But the array of cameras and sensors turned to the ground miles below was perhaps more frightening than any weapons.

They were digital, the sensors. No shutter to click, no rattle of a spinning film camera's wheels. As the machine circled and circled, they collected images, radar scans, infra-red – and sending them to the Allaneans' headquarters in Liberty-City, and from there, faster than this sentence can be read, to the offices in Colombo. From there – after being perused by the staff – on to the Republic of Ceylon's military authorities.

PostPosted: Thu Sep 23, 2021 9:12 pm
by Republic Of Ludwigsburg
In a small camp in the jungles of Ceylon
As the paramilitary wing of the Ludwigsburger Army came, they made a camp. They shared weapons and food, and decided to make a plan. They decided to strike at night and then capture a small communist owned camp. They would soon re-arm and ask the airforce commander to drop in supplies. This is ignored as their communications are broken. Then they heard something. Some gunshots. They quickly ran to their weapon stash and saw a black suited man with an AK-74u. The black-suited man was a paramilitary civilian who had hid in the jungle for long time. They shared some food and water with the small camp.

Hello commander! Are you happy with the supplies? Said the black-suited man.
Yes, the supplies are very helpful. Now lad, shall you say your name? Said the commander, Oliver Wintergarten
My name is Mohamed Abdul. I am a Muslim from Kotte. Said the black-suited man who's name was Mohamed.
Ok Mohamed, shall we attack the base at Sterling? Said Oliver.
Mohamed told him to not, as the nationalist forces had more supplies.

The commander then created a fire. He cooked the military food for the men. His squad had about 120 men. The commander couldn't tell the air command to attack as their communications were broken.

For god's sake, said the commander lighting a cigar. We need to advance soon.
Mohamed told them to attack at Green but the commander refused, still hoping to attack Sterling. Mohamed agreed and they started a flanking movement.
MEIN GOTT! Said one of the soldiers. He was attacked by a nationalist soldier. The commander threw a molotov at the direction that the shots were fired. The trees burnt, but they saw a shadow running to the east. The soldier who was wounded took a bandage and put it on the bullet mark.

The commander realised that this would not be easy. They had no jeeps, or military vehicles. They only had a few bicycles and their own feet. They ran to Sterling and tried breaking in. This resulted in the nationalist forces quickly encircling the commander's troops. One of the soldier bravely threw a molotov at one of the nationalist commanders. But this led to him going unconscious as some of the fire went in his eye. The commander was very unhappy as it was one of his favourite troops. The commander needed to surrender.

Mohamed told them that it was not a good idea. The commander then agreed with Mohamed that he would camp near the jungle. They decided to go to a main city and they sent a call to the airforce. The air commander told 2 planes to drop supplies into Colombo. They took the injured soldiers into the hospital. The soldier who threw a molotov, unfortunately went blind and couldn't be in the army. They sent a goodbye to him and went back into the jungle. They learnt that this was not an easy job and stayed there.

PostPosted: Fri Sep 24, 2021 7:57 am
by Kyraina
Team Grizzly
The CV-22 Osprey lifted off the deck of the RKNS Dutch Harbor, and transitioned the Turboprops to Horizontal flight mode and started it's flight path into Ceylon, and to let the airmen aboard look for a good place to build a Base. This Team of CATC, and Security Forces was called Team Grizzly. As the CV-22 Lifted off from The RKNS Dutch Harbor, 2 MI-24N lifted off of 2 of the destroyers, and the three were flying in formation as the weather team had said the skies would be clear of storms, and that had been over a hour ago. The two MI-24Ns had been forced to turn back due a severe storm, and the CV-22 was currently flying through it, and it was being tossed around like a Toy as the Flight Crew fought to keep the thing flying as straight and stable as they could. The RKAF Team in the back was cussing up a storm, when all of a sudden the storm stopped, and the Osprey was stopped being tossed around like a ragdoll. The CV-22 was then flying above the town Rantembe, where they was told by The Constitutionalists to make a Base at. With a Dam and water supply near by and a small military academy, they could make a difference there.

The CV-22 Landed on a gravel strip amongst the trees southwest of Ratemble, along Highway B474, and a river just on the other side of the road.

The head local turned to the Man in charge of the CATC Team.

"Well what do you think?" The Man said.

The Leader of a CATC Team, a female said "Looks like she will work, I'll them know, so the engineers can get up here from Batticaloa."

The Local and the CATC lead shook heads, and started on their business as locals were clearing trees and shrubbery by hand.






RKNS Dutch Harbor

Bolslania wrote:"Kyrainian Naval Vessels. This is BNS Angel requesting permission to continue with docking and unloading procedures. Over."


"Capt. incoming transmission from the Bolanians" A young yeoman said as the Commander of the Naval Fleet, a Admiral, and the Dutch Harbor's Captain, A O-6 Captain, stood watching the naval and air traffic flow in and out of Batticaloa. The Adm Nodded to the Captain, who turned and left to go talk to the Bolslania Commander.

"BNS Angel, This is the Captain of the RKNS Dutch Harbor. We do not have clearance to dock and off load in Batticaloa, but You do have permission to Send troops and some supplies over to the Dutch Harbor. I'm sure they like the room we offer to move around. We have just received word that a team of ours has found a site for a base and is enlisting locals to help, and our engineers are in route.

Task Force Builder, Batticaloa International Airport

The Corps of Engineers, AKA Task Force Builder had received word from the Dutch Harbor to go the Coordinates given and to get started building. The Engineers loaded up in their pickup trucks, SUVs, and heavy equipment for the long drive there.

PostPosted: Sat Sep 25, 2021 4:54 pm
by The French Popular State
Toulon sat at the table, pondering over the events of the few days. The situation back in the mainland somehow took a turn for the worse, meaning that he hadn't gotten any orders from high command in days, which as a result caused the French forces to stay idle. The troops were bored, the armoured vehicles were either confined to their respective base or partook in peacekeeping operations in the capital. On the bright side, they now had access to adequate facilities for their aircraft, which should be a pain in the backside for the insurgents. As he was thinking, a rather out-of-breath lieutenant bursts through the door. "Monsieur!" he says as he gives a salute. "Orders from high command have arrived, sir!" he hands Toulon the note.
"Well it's about damn time. What's the situation back home?"
"I have no idea sir," the lieutenant replies, still panting.
"I see. Did you sprint here or something?"
"Yes sir."
"Why?"
"Because of what's in the letter, sir."
"You opened it?"
"No sir!"
"At ease, at ease." he looks at the lieutenant, still panting and standing to attention. "Dismissed."
The lieutenant does a final salute before leaving. Toulon opens the letter and reads its contents. He smiles. "About time we got something to do."

Meanwhile, at the Negombo Airbase, 2 Dassault Rafale jets were getting ready for liftoff. Their orders from their superiors stationed in Colombo were to patrol the area around the centre of the area for 20 minutes, with 25 minute intervals between each patrol. The fighters are also able to be contacted by both French and SADF forces, in case one or the other requires some extra firepower to deal with any NF insurgents they come across.

While it would take a while to get the full intervention force ready again for the conflict due to problems back in continental France, they should be back to full combat readiness in a few days.

PostPosted: Sun Sep 26, 2021 3:21 pm
by Allanea
Somewhere in the jungles of Sri Lanka

He waited.

He had waited for three hours, near-motionless. His uniform was now no longer mossy-green, parts of it were now brown with mud, other parts sported dry white streaks of salt where the sweat had soaked it and dried again and again. He had not bathed for days. The sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes. He moved carefully to wipe it off.

But he finally heard them. They thought themselves careful perhaps – they were not talking, at least, as they made their way down the trail. There was a point man, a few yards before the others, an underweight man, his skin a dark shade of olive, his cheekbones painted with a black paint which was an incompetent parody of the camouflage makeup Klemens von Auspitz himself was wearing. His clothing – sneakers, camouflage pants, a dirty once-white shirt, and a vest full of rifle magazines. Slung over his chest was an elderly AK rifle.

Slowly, without a sound, Klemens moved his finger, placing it on the trigger of his rifle. Through the scope, he could see the other man's eyes, the crosshairs resting on the man's cheekbone. He thought momentarily that the man was almost like him. Perhaps had the other man had a better upbringing, he would not be here, seeking to do to others' homes what had been done to the Auspitz family estate. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Some noblemen did join in with the Marxists. He lowered his rifle – nudging the barrel down slightly, until he held his sights on the dirty white shirt, just a few inches over the other man's belt. The trigger broke crisply.

The man doubled over, as if he had been punched in the stomach. For a moment, perhaps, he did not feel any pain. Then the National Front fighter began to shriek at a high, terrible pitch, the awful pain in his lower stomach depriving him of the willpower that was needed to maintain even a trace of dignity.

There was a crashing sound, as several of the dying man's squadmates rushed forward on the trail. They didn't see Klemens von Auspitz. They heard that their friend was in pain, and their first instinct was to rush to his assistance.

Klemens had no memory of his hand cycling the bolt. He had done it straight after firing the shot. The men were still running forward, not yet fully cognizant of what had taken place, when one of them died, a sudden and instant death, his lower jaw coming apart, bright arterial blood soaking his clothing – an old camouflage shirt, and a blue T-shirt underneath it. The others came to a halt, the nature of the trap they had rushed into beginning to dawn on them. Klemens pulled the trigger a third and final time, and then rolled to the side, abandoning the spot in which he had sat for so long. He did not know if the enemy had spotted him but he could not take chances. By the time the third man's body fell to the ground von Auspitz was no longer in his old position.

And the jungle came alive. To the guerrillas' left, a machinegun clattered, a long burst of fire raking through the remains of their squad, cutting branches, punching through flesh and bone. Grenade explosions blossomed among them.

Seconds ago, the National Front fighters had walked into an ambush by a team that was – formally at least – equal to them in number. Within five seconds of Klemens' first shot, the squad was now down to five people, and two of these were injured. They fired their guns wildly into the woods, trying to figure out where the enemies were shooting from. A shotgun spoke, its voice low and rough like the bark of a guard dog, and there were now four. One tried to reload his rifle, fumbling with the magazine, his hands shaking. Getting the fresh magazine into the gun took the rest of his life.

Rifle shots cracked like whips. Three survivors became two. Two became one man, bleeding from shrapnel wounds. And then he could see his enemies. It brought him no comfort.

They were ten in number, muscle-bound, laden down with gear, rifles with long, tubular silencers on, and other firearms he'd only ever seen in glossy magazine. These, he understood, were not common soldiers. They were some sort of commandos, mercenaries perhaps, some manner of professional murderers he heard the capitalists loved sending to fight their wars.

"You can't make me talk!" – he shouted, sounding braver than he was.

"Perhaps." – one of the men said. "We don't need to."

"Huthinga puto." – answered the National Front soldier, raising his gun in a last gesture of defiance.

Six rifles spoke at once, and he died as he wished to die.

The Allanean commander smiled sadly, saluting his counterpart's body, and then squatted down in the mud next to the fallen enemy.

Moving rapidly, the Allaneans looked through their enemies' belongings, taking up weapons, knives, anything that looked like a document or a piece of paper, and, of course, the squad leader's elderly cell phone. They took the device apart, placing battery and phone in separate bags, and retreated the way they had come.

PostPosted: Mon Sep 27, 2021 10:18 am
by Bolslania
Bridge of the BNS Angel


"Damn. SADF isn't letting us unload on Batticaloa." The Captain said to his officers, who had assembled around him. He keyed the radio to reply to the Kyrainians.

"Copy that RKNS Dutch Harbor, adjusting course to you. Over." He said. Turning to the coxswain he said.

"Adjust to dock on the Dutch Harbor, its the big one over there." He said, giving a point to lighten the mood on the bridge, a chuckle arose from the bridge crew.

"Adjust course to the big one over there Aye." The coxswain said, turning his wheel. The Angel turned laboriously to starboard as the captain spoke on the PA system.

"All Army assets prepare to unload on to RKNS Dutch Harbor. I repeat, all Army assets, prepare to unload on to RKNS Dutch Harbor.

In the troop carrying bays there was mild confusion. They had been told they were going to unload on Batticaloa, not some Kyrainian troop hauler. Even so, they set about to readying their gear to unload.

45 minutes later and the 2 Bolslanian supply vessels had pulled up along side the Dutch Harbor, gangways being unfolded to connect the two. Soldiers began to file over the gangway on to the Kyrainian ship.

PostPosted: Tue Sep 28, 2021 5:08 am
by Allanea
Image



From: Ambassador Natalia Kolomietz
To: Jack Smith, CEYMILCOM
Subject: Long-term assistance plans
Dear Sir!

I would like to discuss the rollout of several long-term plans to assist the economy of the Republic of Ceylon, and to improve the country's resilience against terrorism.

Our economic advisors suggest that it would cost between $1 – $2 million New Dornalian dollars per year for the Free Kingdom to keep a single soldier deployed in your nation, and it's likely that other first-world nations would incur a similar cost. Beyond these direct financial costs, of course there is an issue of deaths – both of coalition soldiers, and of any civilians who would inevitably be killed and injured, despite our best efforts to avoid this. As such it's clear that we should all think hard of ways to improve the resilience of the Republic of Ceylon against terrorists, and particularly Communist terrorists.

In the short term I propose that we should cooperate on the following measures:

1) Countermalaria and countermeasles operations, to include vaccine and mosquito net distributions, swamp draining, and direct strikes with various environmentally-friendly pesticides against main mosquito breeding grounds. We will provide all necessary equipment, and are willing to cooperate with your government, or any coalition forces, for these operations.

2) Deploying Combat Engineers to construct temporary infrastructure and emergency housing.

3) Working with private charities from Allanea, particularly Tech4Development, to improve education access and technology access for ordinary Ceylonese.

4) Sharing information on major terror facilities – we are of course already sending you intelligence updates to the best of our ability.

In the long-term we would also like to discuss a range of issues such as economic reform and mutual cooperation with your civilian leadership. It would be ideal if you told me who to contact on that issue.

Yours, Natalia

PostPosted: Tue Sep 28, 2021 7:26 am
by Anowa

Image
Captain Hans Hermansen
SPECTRS Detachment Golf "Boxcar"
FOB Oxide, Near Chunnavil
Anowa
09/22/2021 - 2:10 AM AST



FOB Oxide was complete. Well, about as complete as it could get while maintaining a little discretion. It was the Northernmost drop point for the SPECTRS who had either HALO'd in a few days prior, or had flown in on SH-12s or Dots[1]. The Aircraft that had arrived in this small corner of the nation were now hidden under somewhat scant canopy and camo netting. The Unit had not bothered with blasting a landing zone, the area had a few spots where foliage either refused to grow or had been clear cut already. FOB Oxide was far from permanent, and was more a running name, to refer to the position that Detachment Golf was currently residing at.

It was a better position than those on the south coast likely had, and the majority of SPECTRS on the Island embedding with the NF were probably wishing for some tasking independence at about this point, considering they were given the monumental task of trying to convince the NF leadership to try at a temp ceasefire to clear major roadways of IEDs. Those three groups were the largest concentrations of forces, coincidentally, the only ones that were outright kitted as an armed combat force, over the past few days, SPECTRS operatives elsewhere had been HALO dropped, deployed from civil naval assets passing by the area, outright arrived as tourists legitimately, or had been smuggled in on a Fly Sukhothai 747. There was at least a squad in every major town at this point. They were, of course, unarmed. One didn't gain intel by acting as overt as carrying a firearm or a knife after all. Few even carried cameras, and if they were they were under orders to take a hell of a lot more images of the tourist traps than of military positions or checkpoints. Even then, they likely weren't gonna make a reinforced building the center of a shot.

As far as Hermansen was aware, teams were already making contact with a few disgruntled locals in Jaffna Peninsula in an attempt to sway them to the NF's cause. The area was mostly rural farmers, Tamils, or both. Playing the angle that the government was discriminating against them not only due to being economically underprivileged, but for being a minority would very likely help with at least getting some friends so far away from 'home'. If not the whole region, than at least a number of safe houses if things went belly up. For now, inclement weather was their ally, just as it was in Kubati, just as it was home in Blackrock.

The defence of the small cordon the Detachment of 50 men were residing at was wreathed in what was colloquially known as 'Bear bangers', nothing more than 12 gauge bird shot and a firing pin rigged to a tripwire. With no bore to contain them, all it would do was pelt some clothing with sand sized shot and make a hell of a bang. Were it a proper warzone in a peer to peer conflict, they'd have used landmines, but SPECTRS was here to help these people, not maim them for 30 years.

Regardless, plans were in place to dislodge Ceylon positions within reach. With the watchful eye of either Huginn or Muninn a few hundred kilometers above, telling them either of enemy movements, or of areas of interest, they had a good chunk of the visual elements of the intelligence game in the bag. HUMINT and SIGINT would have to wait until they were a little bit more established in this part of the Island.



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MCWO. Robert "Kozak" Kozakiewicz
SPECTRS Detachment Alpha "Homelander", Recon 7 "Horror"
Near Pidurutalagala Summit
Anowa
09/22/2021 - 6:10 AM AST



"You see that?"

"What?"

"We have a truck moving down the highw- no, down a secondary road now. Looks like they're carrying something in the back."

It wasn't hard to follow the gaze and spot the tarp fluttering in the pack of a weathered pick up, the command launch unit of the tripod mounted ATGM launcher outlining the heat signature in a neat little square, Kozak hummed, "They Connies, or?"

Anya shrugged, from her position looking through a spotting scope, "No clue. No PID. No Uniform. Don't even know what's in the back, could be guns, could be lumber. Occupants are east Asian though."

"Not native then."

"Could be immigrants."

"No one who's sane immigrates to a third world state to transport lumber in a Hilux, Anya."

Silence reigned for a few moments, "Can you hit 'em?"

"No, they're at about double the range on this thing. Wire snaps at four klicks, guidance gets a bit hazy at three and a half. Just call it in to the NF CP and they'll deal with it, for better or worse."



[1] Dots - Slang term for Dornier Do-31 VTOL transports.

PostPosted: Wed Sep 29, 2021 11:10 pm
by New Kowloon Bay
New Kowloon Bay wrote:Hambontota Naval Base

Boots crunched on the tarmac, most of them belonging to fresh-faced soldiers, armed with a selection of the newest weapons available. The older soldiers scoffed. They had been in far too many wars and battles to be nervous. To them, this was yet another meaningless scuffle. The young ones were far, far away from where the real fighting began, yet their boots were already shaking with fear. They immediately rushed to the nearest covered building, and slid a large map over the wooden table inside.

Their plans were simple. They would advance up the A2 and A23 highways straight into the Victoria Randenigala Rantembe Sanctuary, where it was said that the Consitutionalists and the Communists lay in wait.

Meanwhile, an NKB officer contacted their partners in the Sri Lanka government, asking for the identities of known terrorists, the most exact location of their military camps, the approximate number of troops, and the layouts of towns currently under their control.

In the midst while this was happening, two aircraft began their journeys over Sri Lanka.


Hambonota Naval Base

A cigarette was lit. The man blew a puff of smoke in the air. He was annoyed. They had stayed at this base for two days now, and they were all getting bored. Expecting bloody and brutal battles, not expecting the amount of waiting they had to do. The scouting planes had already come back more than 12 hours ago, yet the upper generals were still planning their move, because of the new information given by the Ceylonese government. Probably a piece of paper titled 'Don't do anything for the next month.' It was tiring. He got up, and was preparing to storm into Commander Bronston's office, when the door was opened.

'So, Commander. I've got a piece of my mind to say. WHEN ARE WE GOING TO LEAVE? I'M SO B-'

'Shut it, soldier. You're all plenty bored, right? Well, here's something to do.'

The commander tosses a hastily-drawn map onto the table, scattering the cards everywhere.
'So you did have that king of spades after all! Dirty liar!'
'Shut it! The brass is talking!'


The soldiers scramble to the table, peering over the map. It was simple, a thick black line stretching from Hambonota, to Telulla, and then to Badulla. After that' we're going to travel down the Peradeniya-Badulla-Chenkaladi Highwy towards Nuwara Eliya. Finally, we'll head up B413 to Victoria Randenigala Rantembe Sanctuary. It was going to be a long drive, and then- and then- they would probably meet the Communists or the Consitutionalists there. It didn't matter who they met. The trigger-happy soldiers were already practicing their aim.

'Happy now, soldier? Get ready. We leave at 0930. Also, the drive's gonna be 5 hours.'

'SIR YES SIR! Wait what?'

A few boring hours later..
The soldiers were bored. It had been 4 hours since they started their drive towards the Victoria Randenigala Rantembe Sanctuary. Playing 'Bumpy Charades' on a cramped and moving truck could stay interesting for so long. But nevermind the boredom. They were less than an hour away from the sanctuary. Then the real fighting could begin.

Then, the landmines erupted.

They had driven carefully, trying their best to avoid where they thought landmines would be present. But carefulness wouldn't get the best of a rock. A simple dropped rock was what did it. In the future, when he had retired, he would repeat it over and over again. A rock. That was what caused the first battle with NKB soldiers in the war.

'SHIT SHIT SHIT! GET OUT!' Commander Bronston yelled into the burning wreck of the truck. This was not supposed to happen. The real fighting was supposed to happen when they got to the sanctuary, but he knew it wouldn't happen. The other soldiers on the four remaining trucks jumped out, careful where they stepped, and tried to extinguish the flame. A few survivors were dragged out, but the bulk of them had since died in that explosion.

'Report back to base. Landmine encounter on the Uva A5, grid 098765. Requesting backup immediately.' The more experienced soldier repeated calmly into the microphone, before the coded beeps ensured him of backup. She had seen deadlier wrecks in her time. Why, this was but a speck of dust compared to the NKS Vickersburs explosion. After all, men could be replaced.

The guns started firing at that moment.

A small group, not even numbering 10, of NF soldiers started blasting their guns at the shocked NKB soldiers, hoping to take as many of them out as possible. But as quickly as the firefight started, it ended. It ended with the soldiers shooting back, and a soldier firing a rocket launcher at the general direction of the small insurgent team, wiping them all out.

As the NKB soldiers sat on the side of the road, calming their nerves down before they continued, the bodies were tallied. On the NF side, all 7 insurgents dead. On the NKB side, 22 dead to the explosion, 2 dead to the firefight. 3 people injured from the explosion, 6 injured to the firefight. Not a good start. But they had to keep going.

PostPosted: Sat Oct 02, 2021 6:46 pm
by South Americanastan
October 2nd, 2021

The Ceylonese Bush War
Et Tu, SADF?
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Victoria Dam, Hurricane District, Republic of Ceylon

As the five trucks, uparmored Unimogs, drove down the winding forest road, there was an eerie silence to the men inside of them. Usually, you could hear the SADF coming from a mile away, loud music blasting as the rotors of helicopters kicked up enough dust to make a smokescreen for the dismounting soldiers. However, this time, there were no helicopters nor radios, and there were no SAR M76s or TRR-A1s to be seen. At the front rode a native Ceylonese, a "Tame Terr" as the men inside the trucks may refer to him. He wore a Red Beret and an OD Green uniform, standard for a National Front officer. In the trucks behind rode men in Balaclavas, AK-74s in hand. Under the Balaclavas, they wore blackface, hiding their identity. The unit, part of the SADF Scouts, flew a National Front flag in each car, the Red and Yellow standing out among the green terrain.

As the dam got closer, a security checkpoint came into view. The dam was surprisingly well-defended, with barbed wire criss-crossing the areas next to the road, and watch towers littered throughout the area. Soon enough, the men reached the checkpoint, where an officer, flanked by 10 armed guards, approached them.

"Navatvanna! Oba han̆dunā ganna!" (Stop! Identify Yourselves!)

The Ceylonese man in the front truck stepped forward.

"Api sī baḷakāya, janapadikayinṭa pahara dīma san̆dahā api mema sākkuvē dakuṇu māyima desaṭa gaman karamin siṭina atara, etænaṭa yāmaṭa mema vēlla taraṇaya kaḷa yutuya." (We are C Squad, we are travelling towards the southern edge of this pocket for an assault on the colonizers, and need to cross this dam to get there.)

"Obē samāgamē murapadaya kumakda?" (What is your company's passphrase?)

"Piṭupasa ekak idiripasa dekaṭa samāna vē!" (One in the back is equal to two in the front!)

"Obaṭa ætuḷu viya hæki atara, janapadikayinṭa pahara dīmaṭa oba gat utsāhaya api agaya karannemu" (You may enter, and we appreciate your efforts to attack the colonizers)

The road towards the dam wound through the surrounding forests, and was lined by formerly well-trimmed bushes, now overgrown. It offered a good view of the dam, which was littered with barricades. Watchtowers stood on both sides of the dam, while trucks moved back and forth throughout the dam. The trucks moved along the road towards the center of the dam, and parked on the dam's overlook. As the trucks parked, the men in each truck chambered a round in their AK-74s, flipping the fire selectors to semi-auto

A thumbs up signal came from the lead truck, and almost as fast as the signal came down, the men sighted their AKs and aimed them over the top of the trucks. A spew of automatic fire came from the trucks, heading in all directions and sending the insurgents into a frenzy. Insurgents scrambled to take cover behind barricades as the Scouts began to lay down suppressing fire. Some of the dying insurgents prayed, cried for their mother, or both.

As if answering the prayers, a streak of light came down from the sky, landing square on the lead truck, containing the Ceylonese "Commander" and 4 other Scouts. The thermobaric round turned the truck into a fireball, killing all inside instantly. On the upside, their death happened so quick it was painless. On the downside, 5 Scouts had been lost, and the truck had been thrown into the reservoir by the explosion.

"SHIT! WHO THE FUCK GAVE THESE GUYS THERMOBARIC ROUNDS!"

After a brief pause out of the sheer surprise of a hit by a thermobaric weapon, the men kept laying down fire, as insurgents attempted to blindfire back. A Kenyan-looking stepped out of cover, and began returning fire at the men, hitting 2 of the soldiers, one in the torso, the other in the leg, as he continued firing at the soldiers. The rounds, despite being fired automatically and in a spraying fashion, were oddly precise, hitting another soldier in the arm as men took cover. The Scouts attempted to return fire, hitting the man in the foot, but he still continued fighting.

The man moved from cover to cover, dodging rounds of 5.45x39mm as he continued firing back at the Scouts. Most of the rounds flew over the soldiers' heads, as they had managed to find decent cover, but it still managed to suppress them, as rounds embedded themselves into the uparmored Unimogs. A spray of automatic fire erupted from one of the soldiers, who had, in the frenzy, managed to position himself with a shot on the man, hitting him in the right leg 3 times, and the left leg twice. The man fell to the ground, unable to walk, but he kept fighting. Dragging himself to the wall of the dam, and propping himself up against it, he continued firing, hitting a Scout in the right arm after a round ricocheted off one of the trucks' armor. Two more rounds to the torso finally finished the man off, and the Scouts redirected their fire to the remaining insurgents, whose attempts at catching the Scouts off guard while the Kenyan fought them had failed miserably.

With the final insurgents cleared out, the Scouts approached the now dead Kenyan. At his side sat his AK-74, it's magazine pulled out and empty, with his hand resting on another magazine contained in a tactical vest.

"Anything identifying on him?"

"No, sir, but he's clearly foreign, and has military training. We're some lucky bastards, caught the fucker while he was reloading."

"Kid, we're the Scouts. We've always been lucky bastards. Though you can't help but notice a chunk of it is skill."

"What do you mean? We lost 5 guys and have 4 more wounded."

"Yeah, and look around you. There were 25 of us going into this, against 225 of them. I would say you need some skill for that."

"I guess so. Fucks sake, though, why did they have thermobarics?"

"That's for the suits to figure out, son. Now toss me that spray can, would ya?"

The sergeant caught the can mid-air, and shook it before pointing the nozzle at the wall next to the lifeless man. As he pressed down, the can left a trail of green along the wall next to the man.

Hello World!

The Ceylonese Bush War
The Greatest Negotiator
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Intersection of A9 and 2nd Cross Street, Jaffna, Republic of Ceylon

As the protesters moved down the street, the Jaffna Police were forced to give up ground to avoid a violent confrontation. They had no riot shields, no guns, not even so much as a pistol. All they had were their batons, and that was not enough. Fires were lit as the protesters marched forward, waving the flag of the National Front. Loud chants and singing could be heard, covering up the sounds of beatings and molotovs.

Śrī laṁkā mātā, apa Śrī laṁkā
Namō namō namō namō mātā
Sundara siribarinī
Suræn̆di ati sōbamāna laṁkā
Dhānya dhanaya neka
Mal palaturu piri jaya bhumiya ramyā
Apa haṭa sæpa siri seta sadanā
Jīvanayē mātā
Piḷiganu mæna apa bhaktī pūjā
Namō namō mātā, apa Śrī laṁkā
Namō namō namō namō mātā


As the protesters advanced dangerously close to the Municipal Council building, the police finally held their ground. They held their batons at the ready, preparing for a potential confrontation. Their light blue uniforms and helmets stood out like a sore thumb in the city, and put a target on them. Soon enough, the protesters reached them, still chanting and holding up signs. A police officer with a loudspeaker stepped up towards the crowd.

"Niṟuttu! Neruṅkavēṇṭām!" (Halt! Do not come any closer!"

The crowd continued their advance, as the chanting continued.

"Nāṉ mīṇṭum colkiṟēṉ, niṟuttu! Neruṅkavēṇṭām!" (I repeat, Halt! Do not come any closer!)

The warnings only riled up the crowd more, and the tension only got worse.

"Niṟuttu! Neruṅkavēṇṭām! Itu uṅkaḷ iṟuti eccarikkai!" (Halt! Do not come any closer! This is your final warning!)

The protesters came at the police even faster, most of them with violent intentions. The police fired a tear gas canister in the crowd in an attempt to disperse them.

A man wearing a red bandana over his mouth and leather gloves picked up the canister, throwing it back towards the police. The police, who had no gas masks, were forced to disperse. The protesters charged forward, yelling at the police. As the police frantically retreated, a group of 50 men, clad in green uniforms and non-camouflaged EBRAC-P helmets with gas masks attached, advanced towards the crowd. As the police ran past them, regrouping at the intersection of 1st Cross Street and Beach Road, the 50 men marched forward, shotguns in hand. On their right shoulder was a patch, identifying them.

CEYLONESE SOUTH AMERICANASTANIAN POLICE
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To Preserve Liberty is to Preserve Order


One of the men shot his shotgun into the air, the blank round acting as a warning shot.

"DISPERSE!"

The protesters refused the orders, and continued advancing down the A9, shouting at the men. Some of the few who knew English yelled any kind of slur-sounding words they could think of.

"FUCK OFF, SOUTHIES!"

The men cocked their shotguns, aiming them at the front of the crowd. People watched from their windows as the chaos unfolded, and some of the protesters lit Molotov Cocktails.

But they wouldn't get to use them.

BANG!

The men fired into the crowd, the birdshot loads of their shotguns peppering their targets, causing them to collapse in pain.

"I SAID, DISPERSE!"

The remaining protesters fled away from the CSAP officers, as the ones who stayed, whether due to pain from the peppering or general defiance, were arrested. A video of the protest began to circulate, and the term "Southies" became a nearly universal slur for South Americanastanians in Ceylon.