Halfblakistani Intervention (MT/IC/CLOSED)

[Halfblakistan]

May 29th, 2012

Sylvia Scott-McMaster was a hardened woman. She hadn't always been this hard, but after her baby had nearly been killed and her husband hospitalized by regime artillery, she became the woman she needed to be.

She she looked ten years older than she really was. The war had aged her prematurely and given her grey hairs. But she was still an attractive woman, with bronze skin and high cheekbones. At 5' 7", she wasn't an imposing figure, but her M1 carbine spoke for her, and her green uniform gave her the look of a veteran fighter.



Sylvia Scott-McMaster in happier times times

She had marched in the streets of Marley in 2011 after the ripples of the Arab Spring were felt around the world. The people demanded one thing: the downfall of MacLoed.

But when the military was called in and started shooting (real bullets, not the beanbags of the police,) she took up arms and joined the rebels.

Marley was the cosmopolitan hub of an otherwise backwards southern Halfblakistan. It had long been a melting pot of radical ideas and even more radical actions. It rivaled Nelson for the title of most left-wing city in Halfblakistan, and it was here that the first shots of the Revolution were fired.

And now, the rebels held it! They had finally freed the city from both the MacLoed and sell-out Mellencamp regimes.


Halfblakistani rebels celebrating on the outskirts of Mandela

Still, it was surrounded by enemies both foreign and domestic. Word was spreading of foreign intervention, and regime troops blocked the city from the capital of Nelson/Garvey.

The democratic socialism the Front had advocated was being put into practice. Food banks had been started for the poor; free healthcare had been established in the city; a massive literacy campaign had sprung from the ashes of rebellion. But with the city surrounded, food was growing scarce and medicines were being hoarded. The revolutionary ethos was not fully praxis yet. Only total victory could do that.

Her first firefight was a frightening, fast-paced affair. She had grabbed a pistol from a dead police officer and snuck from her row house to the local rebel camp. That's when the military had come in.

"Get on the f@$!ing ground!" yelled a soldier, his finger on the trigger of his FN FAL.

Suddenly, an improvised grenade dropped frong the gangplank above. She and her comrades darted for cover, and the soldiers were blown apart in a bloody mess. She had been hit by shrapnel in the arm, but, after the smoke cleared, she darted for a rifle. One of the soldiers had an M1, and she figured it would work best for someone with a slender frame.

But more soldiers were coming, and they had to leave, and fast.

They went out the alleyway and dispersed in groups of two, hoping to hole up in the house of a sympathetic stranger.

They safely made it to a safehouse, but now Sylvia was on the front line of the battle against the loyalists, and other nations were coming in to carve up the territory of her great nation. Only time would tell if her beautiful republic would stand intact.

OOC:


(Pink signifies the rebel frontlines and light green signifies the loyalist forces. The area in between is no-man's-land.)

RULES AND GUIDELINES;
Read the "Brief History" part of my factbook below before signing up.
Troop limit for now 10,000, 100 tanks, 50 aircraft.
Try to keep posts shorts and concise with plenty of info.
Title your posts
Must know something about politics and military affairs.
Include the types of tanks used, the types of aircraft used and the types of naval vessels used.
No WMDs
Include pictures in your posts to add to the depth of the thread.
This phase of the Revolution begins on May 5th, 2012 and ends on April 1st, 2015.
Every 10 pages is one year.
Post the in-world date of your post.
Outstanding creativity will lead to the award of an island or naval base.
NO one-liners
And no motherfucking godmode, people.

THE NATIONS:

Right-wing/capitalist interventionists:
The Tekkit Guy
Spironia
Luimneach
Vaander
Esalonia
Nasaira

The socialist countries:
Island of Sheppey
Napania
Osmanistan
New Roma Republic
Lelrenlian
The aeon
The Selkie
Tegrad

Obey the rules, be creative and HAVE FUN!

[Napania]

The office of Premier Anthony Mabus of Napania, Berlin. May 6th, 2012

Anthony Mabus, a thin cut man in his thirties, sat at his table. He was in charge of one of the greatest nations in Europe, perhaps the world. His generals stood prepared to hear his orders at a special undocumented conference

"Gentlemen, we have a great opportunity here." started Mabus; glaring at his toy generals.
"This nation of Halfblakistan is undergoing some rough times. The news tell us that the people are rising up against their leader, a greedy individual who enjoys little support. Now these rebels are claiming to be true Socialists and stand for the people's cause.This band of rebels has declared themselves the legitimate government of Halfblakistan. Though it is a small island nation, this war has the potential to destabilize the entire surrounding area, a prime opportunity for us."

"Well sir, if it is aid you want to send to the rebels, then we can arra-" said one of the officials before being silenced by Mabus

"No, I don't want to send just aid. Remember, this is an entire rebel army people. And what do armies need the most? People. That is why I am issuing a special directive to send not only aid products such as food and ammunition, but also special forces both political and martial. Let us stand together with our brothers in Halfblakistan in overthrowing the cruel Capitalistic government, and placing a pro Napanian government of course."

"Yes of course sir, but what will the public say about this? Your approval ratings haven't been striking high lately as it is." proclaimed another general

"Well I suppose you're right about that." said Mabus as he exhaled. "But....the public would greatly benefit from Halfblakistani trade rights and territory, now wouldn't they? So in that case, pay no attention to the public. Officers of the Napanian leadership, I hereby order an expeditionary force be sent to the city of Marley to assist newly established rebel order."

"Now men, do it not for yourselves, but for Socialism!" cried Mabus with giddy enthusiasm

And with that, Napania has taken its side.



^ Screenshot by a Napanian documentary featuring Anthony Mabus



^ Napanian troops entering deployment

[Nasaira]

ALDERA, NASAIRA

Reports had been flooding in about the rebel uprising in the nation of Halfblakistain, normally such reports would of been assigned a priority and tossed to the side for later monitoring by the Nasairan intelligence agency ( N.I.A) at a later time if deemed necessary. But Halfblakistain was a different circumstance, in the past year the governments of Nasaira and Halfblakistain had entered into several key negations that would benefit both nations, the result was an embassy being established in the capital of Halfblakistain. But now with open war in the nation the embassy and it's staff was in danger from the rebels, plus Nasaira couldn't just leave a potential ally to fall to communist rebels, if Halfblakistain fell to communist then the whole region would suffer the same fate, a domino effect would happen.

Emperor Titus knew the dangers of communism, radical ideals that bred radical believers that would force the rest of the world to see it their way. Everything about communism was hated by the emperor, the suppression of freedom was all that communism was. An idea that would like everyone to think it was all about equality but in truth it was about ruling through fear and intimidation, too many times before has it been broadcast on all the major news networks, communist rebels executing innocent people in the streets, and each time Nasaira had just watched. But not this time.

Emperor Titus sat in his oak chair polished to a fine shine looking at the report from the intelligence agency, a thick report on the situation that looked more like a novel then just a mere intelligence report.

" I need to make a decision now, not in a month when I have time to finish reading this."

" sir I can summarize this for you."

The voice coming from Admiral Nelson Fiske, a seasoned veteran with 30 years of naval service. Admiral Fiske was well respected in the navy and one of the Emperors closest military advisors. Fiske had more then just a basic understanding of military strategy, he attended the naval academy and as a junior officer rose through the ranks as an naval aviator.

" The government in Halfblakistain will not be able to win against the rebels. The rebel cause is gaining strength and they have captured a major city already."

Emperor Titus leaned back in his chair and placed his hand up his head and rubbed his temple due to his frustration at the situation.

" I will not sit back and watch another nation fall to communism."

The Emperors voice was solemn, everyone could tell he did not want conflict but perhaps conflict was the only way.

"Sir, we have a few assets in the area. The N.W.S Wasp, a ford class carrier and a couple of guided missile cruisers. With your permission we can have them off the coast of Halfblakistain in 18 hours."

" give the order Admiral, tomorrow I want an emergency meeting with the house of nobles. I fear this decision may takes us to war."

[Halfblakistan]

May 31, 2012
20:56

Upon hearing that Napania would be supporting his troops with supplies and military forces, Selim Wolker took a Cuban Cohiba cigar out of its celophane wrapper, cut it, and started toasting it. It was time to celebrate.


Selim Wolker as a younger man

The WPRA now controlled half of the country, and with this food and these weapons, Halfblakistan would soon be free.

Still, Nelson/Marley was surrounded, and the battle to break this enclosure would be a hard one. Plus, Cornerstone, McIntire and a host of Southwestern cities were still in the hand of the so-called "loyalists." It was clear that their loyalty was to capitalism and tyranny, not to the people. In addition, fighting around the enclaves of Cuanivale and Kindred was still fierce.

As Wolker lit his Cohiba, recently promoted Major General Sebastian Porter came into the room panting. "Sir..." he tried to regain his breath. "Terrible news. Nasaira..." he kept panting, "it looks like Nasaira is preparing to intervene. Our sympathizers in that country report that they're gearing up for war."

"Terrible news indeed," Wolker thought. The loyalists already had air supperiority, and the last thing the rebels needed was fighter-bombers flying over the skies of the country.

"Sir, what shall we do?"

Wolker contemplated for a moment, intermittently taking a puff of his cigar. Then, he spoke. "We'll need anti-aircraft weapons. We'll ask the Napanian government to send MANPAD shoulder-mounted missiles and have them train our troops in their use."

"And we must move on Cornerstone as soon as possible. When can our troops be ready?"

General Porter hesitated. "Sir, shouldn't we wait for Napanian forces to assist us?"

"Do we have time? If we allow the loyalists to regroup, it will be a hard battle."

"Very true. Should I convene the cabinet?"

Wolker sighed. "I suppose. I'll be there in ten."

"Yes, sir." General Porter saluted and exited the room.

"It look like this celebration cigar will have to wait until later." Little did he know how much later it would be.

[Brillnuck]

Buckingham Palace, London, England, Kingdom of Brillnuck 1st June 2012 07:30 BST

King Edward Louis Alexander Saxe-Coburg-Gotha looked carefully at the newspaper. Normally the Prime Minister would brief him on what's happening but after the troubles of 1997-2000, the job of Prime Minister was delegated to the King. The 43 year old monarch read the main headline cautiously. 'NAPANIA SIDES WITH HALFBLAKISTANI REBELS; AN EXPEDITION FORCE IS BEING SENT'.

"So, they've decided to join them?" "I think this might be the right time to install a leader which is friendly to us." The King said enthusiastically.
"Indeed," The Chief of the Defence Staff, Sir Robert Blake, replied. "We could send troops, but look at the state of them first. I understa-"
"I indeed understand that we must increase our army." the King interrupted in a strong annoyed voice. "Apologies for the interruption, it seems that telling me how much the defence budget is a daily thing for you."
"Right. Getting back on topic, I think we should start with supplying weapons to the rebels. There are a lot of Marxists, but I'm sure with can find someone that is ideologically pleasing and friendly to us."
"Agreed. Along with weapons, we should send humanitarian aid. First the aid though. If those Halfblakistanis check aid ships, then we'll have to smuggle them in somehow." "Send them aid."
"Yes your Majesty."




Buckingham Palace, London, England, Kingdom of Brillnuck 1st June 2012 17:22 BST
"3, 2, 1, live!"
"Greetings citizens of Brillnuck and the world. Halfblakistan has devolved into a conflict and many are suffering because of it. We do not wish to send arms or the military, but we wish to send aid. As we speak aid ships being loaded and they'll leave within the next few days. I ask you not to give food and clothes, but rather money so that we may buy food, clothes and temporary shelters. I ask you also to pray for those lives, whether rebel or loyalist that they may live in peace. While we do slightly support the rebels, we beg both sides not to devolve into any venom spitting, but rather to fight without committing crimes. Thank you."

[Azenyanistan]

June 7, 2012

Women. Women were the lifeblood of the country, the country of Azenyanistan.

Azenyanistani White Republican Army soldier, Perima Unadariah Issa, a 17 year old girl, was like any other Azenyanistan woman.

She was, as a woman, treated better in Azenyanistan than in other countries in the region.
She was, as a citizen of Azenyanistan, full of civil rights and political freedoms, more than any other country in the region.
She was, like her family, a member of the Taureg people, but was considered Azenyanistani because her father was Azenyanistani.
She was taught how to drive things, especially tanks, because tanks were plentiful in Azenyanistan.
She was taught how to shoot, by her father and then by the military.

Like all other Azenyanistanis, she was a veteran in her very own ways. She was an insurgent in the wars before and a child soldier in the recent war. She was one of the many women would be sent away from Azenyanistan and into a foreign country to fight.

As a former colony, Azenyanistan was known for sticking to whoever and whatever dominated her. And she was given freedom or independence, she went her way, appreciating her freedom. Right now, Azenyanistan, although split in 2, although occupied...was going to support a nearby country.

Halfblakistan. There, the Azenyanistanis would go. There...the now 1000 women soldiers and their assets and support...there they will go.



And yes...she was also Kurdish.

...

Meanwhile, the Azenyanistani 3rd Republic sent a telegram to the loyalists of Halfblakistan

"Greetings! We are the Azenyanistani 4th Republic! We would like to send some help to the loyalists against the rebels!"

[Halfblakistan]

June 7, 2012
0817 hours

Field Marshal Iain Smith was a gentleman that would remind you of an unavoidable bloodhound. His round brown eyes were like two tiger-eye gems. His thick brown, short-cropped hair reminds one that he is a military man first and foremost. He was very tall and had a broad-shouldered build.

Smith fitted his beret and then lit his signature meerschaum pipe, carelessly tossing the match on the ground.

His base was high up in the Great White Range, just north of Cornerstone. He commanded a whole division, though this division was just above half strength from all of the fighting that had gone on. He was one of the main generals to oppose the regime of Percival MacLoed, and had been given the command of the 1st Mountain Division as a prize. "Some gift," he thought, taking a puff from his pipe.


Field Marshall Iain Smith addressing his troops

With Melencamp gone, the rebels had Garvey/Nelson, Mandela and half the country, with plenty of supporters spread throughout the nation.

With 100,000 troops, heavy mortars, a dozen M60 tanks and a few aircraft, the rebels were now more than a nuisance: they were threatening to replace the entire order with a new, socialist one.

They were completely unreasonable. First, they demanded MacLoed be executed instead of put on trial. Then they refused to form a unity government with the National Unity Party as it's head. Now they were threataning to dismantle the old republic and replace it with a council of cooperatives.

Smith had come from a poor peasant family in the Northwest, eking out an existance farming sheep and cultivating millet and sorghum. He distinctly remembered eating beetles for the first time at the age of six when their harvest had failed. So he left home for military school, slowly rising through the ranks to become Brigadier General and, ultimately, Field Marshal after MacLoed was deposed.

He would not go back to eating beetles.


Loyalist troops in city of Cornerstone

Suddenly, his satellite phone rang. He picked it up and said "Field Marshal speaking."

"This is Acting President Adam Sterling. I need you to help me, Iain."

He nearly dropped the phone. He had assumed his old friend Sterling had peen killed or captured by rebels. This apparently wasn't the case, assuming it really was Sterling.

"I escaped from Nelson and I've crossed enemy lines. We're headed towards Cornerstone, and we're making it our provisional capital and base of operations."

Smith didn't know what to say. He had never liked Melencamp, despite all of his war-hero great-grandfather bravado. But when his old friend Sterling became his veep, he reconsidered.

"Is this a secure line?" Smith asked. "Tell me your coordinates and I'll send an escort. You'll get the best protection."

"We have an escort, Adam. That's not my concern. But I have and idea..."

"And that is?"

"I'm going to make you President." He replied.

Smith almost did a spit-take of his coffee. No military man had held presidential powers in Halfblakistan, ever. Even under MacLoed, the country had had a firm seperation between the armed forces and the state.

"I... I can't accept, Adam. It's wrong."

"The people don't respect me, Iain. I've never held executive office, and I can't hold on to power unilaterally." Smith heard Sterling's car go over a bump. "The country needs a strong leader, and I'm convinced you're the man to be that leader."

Smith paused, thinking of all the consequences an affirmative would have. After a quarter of a minute he responded.

"I'll have to think about it, Adam... I mean, Mr. President. I look forward to meeting with you to discuss this further."

Sterling abruptly hung up.

There was little chance that Smith would take the position. After all, he was a military man, not a politician.

But what if he "retired?"

The though shook him, but after a moment, he realized that this was the best course of action. The commander-in-chief needed to be a military man, not a bean-counter like Sterling. He would retire, meet with Sterling, and take the oath of office. That could help hold the fractious country together.

Before he could do anything else, he received another phone call, this time from a foreign number. He hesitated. How could a foreign number possibly get his private number? It certainly wasn't a telemarketer.

After a few rings, he picked up. "Field Marshall Smith. Go ahead."

"Marshall Smith, we are the Azenyanistani 4th Republic! We would like to send some help to the loyalists against the rebels!"

Again jarred, he was almost angry now. "I don't know how you got this number, but I'm not the man in charge. You need to speak with-"

"But you are the senior military official in your country, correct?"

He thought, remembering that his senior officers had all either been executed or fled the country. "Yes, this is true," he sighed, remorseful over the loss of so many men.

"Then you are the one we wish to speak to."

"Alright," he said. "What aid can you give us?"

[Azenyanistan]

Field Marshal Iain Smith was a gentleman that would remind you of an unavoidable bloodhound. His round brown eyes were like two tiger-eye gems. His thick brown, short-cropped hair reminds one that he is a military man first and foremost. He was very tall and had a broad-shouldered build. He has a large nose.

Smith fitted his beret and then lit his signature meerschaum pipe, carelessly tossing the match on the ground.

His base was high up in the Great White Range, just north of Cornerstone. He commanded a whole division, though this division was just above half strength from all of the fighting that had gone on. He was one of the main generals to oppose the regime of Percival MacLoed, and had been given the command of the 1st Mountain Division as a prize. "Some gift," he thought, taking a puff from his pipe.

(Image)
Field Marshall Iain Smith addressing his troops

With Melencamp gone, the rebels had Garvey/Nelson, Mandela and half the country, with plenty of supporters spread throughout the nation.

With 100,000 troops, heavy mortars, a dozen T-44/45 tanks and a few aircraft, the rebels were now more than a nuisance: they were threatening to replace the entire order with a new, socialist one.

They were completely unreasonable. First, they demanded MacLoed be executed instead of put on trial. Then they refused to form a unity government with the National Unity Party as it's head. Now they were threataning to dismantle the old republic and replace it with a council of cooperatives.

Smith had come from a poor peasant family in the Northwest, eking out an existance farming sheep and cultivating millet and sorghum. He distinctly remembered eating beetles for the first time at the age of six when their harvest had failed. So he left home for military school, slowly rising through the ranks to become Brigadier General and, ultimately, Major General after MacLoed was deposed.

He would not go back to eating beetles.

(Image)
Loyalist troops in city of Cornerstone

Suddenly, his satellite phone rang. He picked it up and said "Field Marshal speaking."

"This is Acting President Adam Sterling. I need you to help me, Iain."

He nearly dropped the phone. He had assumed his old friend Sterling had peen killed or captured by rebels. This apparently wasn't the case, assuming it really was Sterling.

"I escaped from Nelson and I've crossed enemy lines. We're headed towards Cornerstone, and we're making it our provisional capital and base of operations."

Smith didn't know what to say. He had never liked Melencamp, despite all of his war-hero great-grandfather bravado. But when his old friend Sterling became his veep, he reconsidered.

"Is this a secure line?" Smith asked. "Tell me your coordinates and I'll send an escort. You'll get the best protection."

"We have an escort, Adam. That's not my concern. But I have and idea..."

"And that is?"

"I'm going to make you President." He replied.

Smith almost did a spit-take of his coffee. No military man had held presidential powers in Halfblakistan, ever. Even under MacLoed, the country had had a firm seperation between the armed forces and the state.

"I... I can't accept, Adam. It's wrong."

"The people don't respect me, Iain. I've never held executive office, and I can't hold on to power unilaterally." Smith heard Sterling's car go over a bump. "The country needs a strong leader, and I'm convinced you're the man to be that leader."

Smith paused, thinking of all the consequences an affirmative would have. After a quarter of a minute he responded.

"I'll have to think about it, Adam... I mean, Mr. President. I look forward to meeting with you to discuss this further."

Sterling abruptly hung up.

There was little chance that Smith would take the position. After all, he was a military man, not a politician.

But what if he "retired?"

The though shook him, but after a moment, he realized that this was the best course of action. The commander-in-chief needed to be a military man, not a bean-counter like Sterling. He would retire, meet with Sterling, and take the oath of office. That could help hold the fractious country together.

Before he could do anything else, he received another phone call, this time from a foreign number. He hesitated. How could a foreign number possibly get his private number? It certainly wasn't a telemarketer.

After a few rings, he picked up. "Field Marshall Smith. Go ahead."

"Marshall Smith, we are the Azenyanistani 4th Republic! We would like to send some help to the loyalists against the rebels!"

Again jarred, he was almost angry now. "I don't know how you got this number, but I'm not the man in charge. You need to speak with-"

"But you are the senior military official in your country, correct?"

He thought, remembering that his senior officers had all either been executed or fled the country. "Yes, this is true," he sighed, remorseful over the loss of so many men.

"Then you are the one we wish to speak to."

"Alright," he said. "What aid can you give us?"

A list was immediately given by telegram to the loyalist:

[size=200] 1000 troops (1st Group, 2nd Group, 3rd Group, 4th Group, 5th Group, 6th Group, 7th Group, 8th Group, 9th Group and 10th Group)

70 Merkava IV tanks (7 Groups)

The 1st Azenyanistani Heavy Artillery Group of the Azenyanistani White Republican Army (77 99mm guns, 77 88mm guns, 22 111mm guns and 11 177mm guns and 7 Churchill 3 Heavy Self Propelled Guns)

[Brillnuck]

Southampton, England, Kingdom of Brillnuck June 7 2012 09:32 BST

The first shipments of aid were leaving Southampton and were going to Marley. These were ships owned by the government that was used for humanitarian purposes. It would take a few days to reach Halfblakistan, but they were trying their best to keep the rebels and the people caught in the conflict safe. On board was Julia Henryson, an agent from the BIFW (Brillnish Intelligence Foreign Wing). Julia was responsible for handling the aid, but also made sure that if it was checked. She was on the ship Resolute, a big ship designed to carry large cargo and this was the right time. In total there were 5 ships. It was estimated that they were to arrive by 10th June 2012.

[Vaander]

//

[Brillnuck]

Buckingham Palace, London, England, Kingdom of Brillnuck 7 June 2012 11:30 BST

"Well, that's the first shipment." The King said. "Now onto military matters. So, what have you prepared Chief of the Defence Staff?"
"I've proposed a plan to boost up troop numbers. While our navy and air force is strong, our army is mediocre. 5,000 troops isn't going to fare well against those strong countries. No offence your majesty, but I do feel that we are sometimes on the wrong side in some wars."
"No offence taken. I do think the rebels are a safer bet though. And agreed, do you have any ideas on how to boost them?"
"Perhaps more propaganda when the time comes. Also, we could recruit from some rebels that happen to be Conservative, Market Socialist and Pro-Brillnish. However, I think this would be hard."
"Mhm. Let's concentrate on your first one though. Come, we can think this over while taking a walk and lunch. We can put plans later today."

[The Tekkit Guy]

Imperial Air Force L-500 Transport Aircraft, June 8th, 2012, 1030


3 massive L-500's, an all-passenger version of the C-5B galaxy, crossed into Halfblakistani airspace, each carrying 1000 marines. In the outer formation were 4 A-400's carrying the marines' equipment: pallets of weapons, personal baggage, and hardware were being flown by the surprisingly fast turboprop planes. This massive airlift would bring much-needed reinforcements to this rapidly-escalating proxy war. The troops were uncomfortable. The L-500 was simply designed to cram as many people into it as possible for mass-transportation, and left little room for comfortable seats or personal space, and turbulence meant heads would knock together.

They were headed towards Cornerstone: a city well behind friendly lines, where they could later be transferred elsewhere. Highly-advanced tanks, APC's and Infantry Fighting Vehicles were being imported for defense, but would take longer since they had to be delivered by ship at a coastal city and then driven all the way to Cornerstone.

Port-au-Vin Docks, 1200


The two Beluga-Class supply ships, the TNS North and TNS Vince had just been moored down. Some 70 armored vehicles disembarked the ships, along with instant metal shelters and large quantities of supplies that were all making their way by truck down to the Cornerstone Base of Operations to contribute to making it a safe haven for troops returning from battle to regroup, exhausted and with many casualties, as well as a place to coordinate allied forces.

[Napania]

Heinrich Meisheu, on board the Bismark landing ship, South of Marley June 9, 2012

Heinrich Meisheu, a once violent drinker, had become an agent for the nation. While locked away in the prison of Leipshug in Holstein, he was given a second chance. Government operatives came to him in the dark of the night and recruited him, if not forcefully, into the Napanian propaganda machine. They took him to an undisclosed location and completely detoxed him from all alcoholic substances. After his extreme reactions to several mind numbing techniques, Heinrich was brainwashed. The government agents made him forget his name for a good 4 months before reprogramming his already soft brain. The poor drinker from the streets was indoctrinated into the ways of coercion and propaganda. Heinrich became cold and a mere weapon for the government.

On the morning of June 7th, he received a message which chilled him to the bone. He was ordered to be deployed to the nation of Halfblakistan, now embroiled in a civil war.Inside the message were orders to begin spreading Communist propaganda across the country and divide up Loyalist populations with poisonous words.

Now in Marley, he realized his mission. He was here to promote the Socialist cause, whatever the cost. He had heard horrific stories from this nation, and what they do to enemies. Heinrich shuddered for a moment, before looking back to see the first wave of Napanian forces arrive at the city. With that, Heinrich took out a flask from his pocket, and drank like a fish.


^Napanian squad arrives in Marley

^ Napanian troops arrive on the road to Marley

^ Forms of Socialist leaflets that Heinrich and his team hand out

[Halfblakistan]

June 11th, 2012
0817 hours

Major Vernon St. Paul, company leader of 3rd Marley Militia Rifles Regiment, 2nd Battalion, 4th company, was an ardent supporter of the WPDRF. Though he had been active in the Young Communist League before it had been made illegal by the McLoed regime, he had secretly become a Front member the week after it had been declared. Though he was barred from the military due to his communist past, he had been a mercenary in a number of foreign wars. This military experience made him invaluable to the WPRA.

He and his troops were just eating meals provided by Brillnuck, and were feeling much better after a shortage of food. Still, many militiamen and women were worried about their family having enough rice and cooking oil too cook with back home.

And now he was squatted over a map of the surrounding area, debriefing his troops on the plan for the upcoming engagement with enemy troops. These women and men had fought hard to free their city from "loyalist" tyranny, and they were now miles from home, farther than many of them had ever been from the city of Cromwell/Marley.


Major Vernon St. Paul situated over a battle map.

"Troops, this is the battle plan," St. Paul yelled, attempting to overcome the noise of far-off gunfire. "Sections Alpha and Chicago will recconateur the mountainous areas around Moorehouse." He pointed at the hills surrounding a small villa around ten miles southeast of Cornerstone.

"Sections Detroit and Foxtrot will have the task of forming reserve position just south of Moorehouse at this coordinate, here." He motioned at an even smaller hamlet called Marjorie. "These units will provide a fallback position should our attack fail, which it will NOT." He pointed decisively at that point.

"And sections Bravo and Echo will have the hardest job: working with a company of the Napanian 17th Armored Brigade to clear all opposition from the town of Moorehouse."

The sergeants of sections Bravo and Echo looked worried at that moment. To assuage them, St. Paul said this: "I am trusting you because you are some of our most experienced fighters. I fought with many of you at the Governor's Palace in Marley, and I
Have full faith in your abilities. In addition, the armor provided by the Napanians should make your job very doable."

"We will be operating in coordination with seven companies of the Marley Militia Rifles. The 16th Garvey Light Infantry will be attacking St. Sebastian from the North." He pointed at a small town fifty miles north of Cornerstone.


"Any questions?"

Private Yolanda Stone of Bravo section did. "Sir, will we have close air support from the Napanians?"

This question reflected the democratic nature of the rebel army. Soldiers were encouraged to ask questions of their officers and report abuse.

"And excellent question, Private." He sat criss-cross to answer. "We believe that the Napanians will be providing fly-overs to prevent our forces from being interdicted."

"All right, people. This is it!"

The troops cheered, but this only hid their trepidation about the whole affair. Nobody knew they how long -or whether- they would survive.

OOC: In the future, consult me before unilaterally landing troops in the country. People have been concerned that they haven't had the opportunity to confront these landing forces. No need to edit your posts, but in the future, telegram me before you land and add an ETA before posting. Troops don't just magically appear in real life, and they don't in this RP, either.

[Vaander]

//

[Azenyanistan]

June 12, 2012.

The Azenyansitani Task Force to Halfblakistan has rallied and is ready to go. But first, a telegram to the loyalists

"HELLO. Our task force is ready to insert into your country to aid your people against the rebels, do we have permission to land in your airports???"

[The Tekkit Guy]

June 12, 2012, 0830, near Cornerstone



3000 Tekkitian marines were on the march from the airfield to the base of operations. They walked with advanced ceramic battle armor, sporting accurate and powerful TK-34 battle rifles, and carried heavy field packs with enough supplies to camp out as long as a week if necessary until there was enough room for them. They would reach the Base of Operations by nightfall, but there was no garuntee there was space for them. The convoy of supply trucks and tanks were still on the other side of the country, which would perhaps take another 2 days to arrive, rumbling noisily along the peaceful roads, cutting the silence, as they made their way across the green countryside, which gradually gave way to the tall grey mountains, which the lone asphalt strip cut into.

Although their highly-advanced tanks considerably outclassed the rebels on the ground, they were still vulnerable from the air, and would need to rely upon their allies for cover. The Tekkitian marines knew little about Halfblakistani war plans, but were prepared to support whatever advance they wished to make. There were not many vehicles, but they made up for their small numbers with advanced technology, lots of firepower and experienced crews. The tanks had Reactive Armor plates, designed to expand upon impact with an armor-piercing shell, saving the crew, in addition to 500mm composite armor, rendering them immune to gunfire. To reply to the enemy, they sported a high-explosive 120mm smoothbore cannon and a .50 caliber machine gun, which was occasionally replaced with a napalm flamethrower.

[Halfblakistan]

OOC: This is an ASYMMETRICAL WARFARE SITUATION. Please remember that. The focus on conventional troops and forces is a big problem for me, and I need people to take this into consideration. If you don't know what that is, check this out: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asymmetric_warfare

Thanks.

[Halfblakistan]

June 12
0854 Hours
Jamal Peterson walked alongside the Tekkitian soldiers, listening in to their conversations.
“This country is a sh!thole,” said one of the taller Tekkitian. “The people here are backwards. Why the hell are we even here?”
“For the women, of course,” a shorter Tekkitian said, making a kissing face at one of the female Halfblakistani soldiers. She blushed and adjusted her uniform. For all of their advanced weapons and tactics, these Tekkits were just arrogant bullies. All bravado, no class. Peterson had heard rumors that they had sexually harassed a lot of Halfblakistani women in villages near Cornerstone, and now he was seeing it first-hand.

It was good to have reinforcements, but the sooner these bastards were out of his country, the better.

Without warning, he was on the ground and covered in blood. All he could hear was a screeching noise, and his body was numb. He definitely had a major concussion, and his vision was blurred. He shook his head, and everything slowly came into focus. The tall Tekkitian was screaming what Peterson assumed were expletives in his native tongue. He glanced over, and saw that half of his torso and one of his legs were gone. Looking to the right, he saw the female loyalist, or at least what was left of her: she looked like raw pulled pork, her entire body wrecked by the force of what he could only assume was an incredibly large explosion. The shorter Tekkitian was missing an arm and was crying to God.

The worst, though, came when he looked at his own body: his legs were gone. In fact, his entire bottom half was gone, and he could see his bloody entrails. The pain suddenly hit him as he realized just what had happened. He began to yell harder than he ever had in his life, and he felt tears streaming down his face.

The rebels must have placed an improvised explosive device under a rock, and the woman soldier must have set it off. He could distinctly hear gunfire now, as well as commanding officers yelling for the troops to shoot into the hills. But the rebels were well hidden and he could see Tekkitian soldiers falling one after the other. They must have been shooting machine guns down at them from enfilade. The armored personnel carriers started maneuvering their guns, and a mortar shell almost hit one, damaging its tracks. It was pure chaos, and the guerrillas had the upper hand.

Another, smaller explosion sent chunks of debris and limbs everywhere. The crackling of guns and the sounds of confused terror were all around, and the entire force was scrambling for cover.

How could this happen? Were the guerrillas really this far behind their lines? They must have been. This was, after all, guerrilla warfare.

As he bled out, all he could think of was the pain. He couldn't think of patriotism or glory, or anything at all. All Jamal Peterson could think about as he lay dying was the intense, searing pain…


0907 Hours
“Fire on those troops to the right!” yelled Major Masterson. As he did, the machine gun team aimed their gun at the troops below, wounding and maiming many. A sniper carefully picked out NCOs and, one by one, they fell to his modified Lee-Enfield rifle. The attack was going as planned. The foolish Tekkitians had let their troops march in a line down the only road to Cornerstone! As he commanded his troops, the Marley Rifles were preparing to engage loyalist forces in Moorehead, and the longer his troops held up the Tekkitians and their Loyalist auxiliaries, the better chance they would have of taking it. He suddenly realized that the armored personnel carriers couldn't aim their guns high enough to fire at the troops in the hills. The attack was going perfectly!

A mortar exploded to his right and he made a call. “Withdraw! Withdraw!” Obeying his orders, company picked up their guns and shuffled even higher into the hills.


Rebels withdrawing to fight another day

When they came back to their underground encampment, they calculated their losses. They had expended great amounts of ammunition, but had only suffered one slightly wounded machine-gunner. He would recover within a week. It was estimated that they had taken out dozens of Tekkit and Loyalist troops. And they had carefully placed anti-tank and anti-personnel mines all along the road to Cornerstone. It would take around a week for the advancing army to clear all of those mines, and while doing so, they would be hampered by more attacks.



OOC: This is a lesson in asymmetric warfare. Hopefully people will be more careful with sending regular troops into dangerous situations in the future.

[Brillnuck]

Buckingham Palace, London, England, Kingdom of Brillnuck June 12 2012 09:22 BST

"We'll, they haven't checked." The King Said. "Now we may sneak weapons to them. Also, I think now might be a good time to speed up recruitment. The Napanians have just arrived in Marley. We should join our allies just to keep it."
"I've got some rough recruitment posters and banners that we can put to help the drive. Along with some online, radio and TV adverts, we can have a sizable force. "
"Good. Also, I've just recieved word from the foreign wing of the intelligence that they haven't checked. It's short, but it's enough."
"Let me check it." "Mhm, great. now we may truly aid them."

To: BIFW
From: JHR3


It's successful, they haven't checked us at all. It's safe to send arms here. One more day until we return.



JHR3

[Azenyanistan]

June 14, 2012

Perima Unadariah Issa, an Azenyanistani female soldier among female soldiers, rechecked her gear. Canteen, vest, mess kit, helmet, shemagh, JW-132 rifle, Mauser C96 pistol, extra pants, 2 extra shirts, extra uniform, compass, binoculars, scope, iron sights, 7 grenades, 2 duct tape rolls and a wallet full of Halkblakistani coins and bills. She was in Group 2. Her friends were in Group 1. Both groups were going in.

And they were going in with the heavy artillery. The aim was Cuanivale. That position was in danger of being ovverun. So the Azenyanistanis would have to first get there and support anyone against the rebels there.

200 Azenyanistani soldiers, both old and new, were gonna go with The 1st Azenyanistani Heavy Artillery Group of the Azenyanistani White Republican Army (7 99mm guns, 7 88mm guns, 2 111mm guns and 1 177mm gun and 7 Churchill 3 Heavy Self Propelled Guns)

But the 111mm and the 177mm guns will have to wait and so will the Churchill 3 SPGs. From the air, they were to dismount from their vehicles into an area near Cuanivale and after everything and everyone has gotten in, they will march to that place and do whatever it takes to get Cuanivale in loyalist hands and stay that way.

Several helicopters would transport them. The heavy planes would carry the artillery.

"WE GOT 14 DAYS, PEOPLE! LET'S HURRY UP, LADIES!" Shouted a female commander who was about to get in a helicopter.

"14 days." Perima whispered, the female soldiers and the guns and their female crews getting ready to move out.

She glanced at the massive guns of the Azenyanistani Artillery before jogging to a helicopter and getting it.

[Halfblakistan]

OOC: We are trying to compile a list of casualties (wounded and killed) for the entire war, so post the casualty figures for each battle at the end of your posts.

Also, try to refrain from sending in unrealistic troops numbers. If you think someone will call you out for it it, make it smaller. Don't worry, you'll be able to get plenty of battles in.

Finally, be sure to check with me if your troop deployment/attack is okay.

[The Tekkit Guy]

Terrace Defense Headquarters, June 12, 2012. 1000

Sheets of white paper launched up into the air fluttered down like a quiet snowfall in the winter of Centier. Defense Minister James Charleson had just flung a 12-page report on the battle in Halfblakistan in a fit of rage. He was the youngest of the Ministers, only 28. Although he was an exceptionally brilliant man, he was short-tempered and brash sometimes. A Holy Guardsman dutifully picked up the report and arranged it neatly. It appeared as though he calmed down for a brief moment, resting his forehead on the pale blue wall of the situation room.

"24 killed...34 wounded...15 of whom in critical condition. WE HAVE THE MOST POWERFUL MILITARY FORCE IN THE LEAGUE OF CHRISTIAN NATIONS, AND WE LOSE TWO DOZEN WITHIN THE FIRST HOURS OF LANDING!?" He pounded his fist on the wall so hard, the 12 time zone clocks rattled, threatening to fall. A single, glistening teardrop rolled down his right cheek, landed on the shoulder of his Armani suit, and followed the contour of his Tekkitian flag pin before absorbing into the dark fabric.

"S-s-sir...our...our men are still in danger, what do we do?" The radio operator asked gingerly.

"How far are they from the Base of Operations?" He asked, having composed himself, now leaning over a digital map of Halfblakistan, using both arms to brace himself on the table.

"Still far off, they can arrive within a 2-3 days if they hurry." Replied one of the men.

"No, tell them to continue marching, but keep their firearms ready and loaded, scanning the hills for anything moving. I want two men with metal detectors in front of the line. When it gets dark, stop all movement. I want at least 300 sentries sleeping in shifts to watch for attackers until dawn."

"Sir you're going to slow them down by quite a lot."

"That wasn't a suggestion, send the orders. This embarrassment won't happen again"

"Yes sir."

Halfblakistan, same time and date

"Goddamned commies!" Cursed Lt. Johnathan Sirvoy, cocking his designated marksman rifle, while carefully stepping over a puddle of fresh blood and disembodied parts, undoubtedly from some of his comrades. "Reiston, you watch left, I'll watch right." He instructed the man behind him, before he raised the barrel of his rifle towards the green hills, sighting his ACOG scope. "Come on, you stupid little reds, poke your heads out, I dare you."

[Vaander]

//

[Esalonia]

North of Mandela
UCS Hilario Macadangdang, Diamond Perri-class megacarrier
12 June 2012

After three days of sailing the UCS Hilario Macadangdang finally arrived alongside her 19 escort vessels-2 frigates, 4 destroyers, an arsenal ship, 4 landing ship/docks, 2 minelayers, 2 minesweepers, one guided missile submarine and three long-duration strike submarines. On the landing ship-docks were the first batch of troops to land, about 1,250 onboard each vessel, preparing themselves to delve into the hot mouth of hell, razor-sharp teeth bared-but it never intimidate the soldiers onboard the vessels-first would be a major bombardment of Mandela, the city that they were planning to retake, after a brief reconnaissance. Being connected to the rebel frontlines via a river, Mandela could be a good place to attack first-most of the supplies could come from here, if not all of them. But help was badly needed in Kindred and Guanivale-and that was where the landing ship/docks went.

The five elevators of the UCS Hilario Macadangdang raised themselves, revealing a spy plane each. These spy planes were high-altitude long-duration spy plane with stealth coating to prevent being detected via radar, as well as IR suppression techniques to lower IR signature. one by one the spy planes roared to action, their propellers whirring as they built up torque to spin faster and to finally lift the airplane off the megacarrier, in conjunction with the electromagnetic catapult system on the aircraft carrier-but don't worry. All Esalonian planes that can fit into a carrier are built with reinforced frame to deal with the rigors of landing on an aircraft carrier. Into the horizon they flew, in an orderly manner.

Onboard the spy plane was a luxurious reconnaissance suite, which can even estimate AESA radar ranges of nearby enemy-controlled radar stations. Each of the visual-infrared cameras possessed extremely-high-definition. They flew higher than most MANPAD systems and AESA radar maximum altitudes, thus giving them considerable advantage. But do the Commies have SAMs? Esalonian commanders do not take any chances-they still flew at 95% of maximum altitude. Onboard the aircraft carrier, the situation room-filled with special forces soldiers and marines-showed the reconnaissance footage as it went on live, with only a short delay due to the ping imposed by the rather high distance between the aircraft carrier and the spy planes.

In the meantime the destroyers and the frigates took up positions to fire upon detected coastal defenses. They won't go dangerously close...who knows the rebels might have enough anti-ship weaponry to take out a Longsword-class superdreadnought...if the Longsword was not able to take them out in time then. Once the destroyers got what they needed to make their first attack-the intel consisting of enemy fortifications and troop and armored concentrations-they began to attack...with full prejudice against the Red Pandemic. From the VLS cell of a Raze-class destroyer, the most powerful destroyer the United Commonwealth has fielded, a Hellion-II missile awoke from its slumber; this sweet bastard of a missile roared out of its VLS cell with a plume of orange-white-yellow and a cacophonous screech reminiscent of the heavens torn apart by some pair of divine scissors. This was then followed by more missiles being launched to the air, into their designated targets marked by the earlier recon mission.

In the meantime, the SSNs started to do their job-interdiction missions near Marley. Each SSN was armed to the brim-20 Hellion-II missiles each was simply enough to make them submarines on steroids, with long-duration operation capability as well as the ability to stay under the water...for at most 24 hours...with oxygen scrubbers onboard that made oxygen from CO2 exhaled by the crew members onboard, as well as the Gil System, made by Dr. Nismal Gil of the Edmund Halley Shipwrights, which was coincidentally a pun of the gills of the aquatic animal, the ubiquitous fish that floated by the submarines, and had the same function with the biological gills as well: extract oxygen from water, with the extensive use of nanotechnology. But there was no time for brash decisions-they won't simply rush towards Marley and destroy ships with wanton disregard, but it would be known that any vessel coming towards Marley would be of a vessel of a nation helping the communist rebellion. But they won't take any chances-they decided to switch to SIGINT ops, with the reactor rigged to low-power operations, as well as moving ever so slowly at a "sonar stealth optimal speed" that it made the entire vessel so silent it had to actually emit sound to prevent being a hole in the water. This was accomplished with the use of sound tapes, which were updated regularly in accordance to the sound of the surrounding sea. As soon as they were in position, the lead vessel, a Hammond-class guided missile submarine, an 800-foot-long beast of a submarine, surfaced just enough to have her photonic mast jutting from the surface by a decent margin. SIGINT operations were underway. Meanwhile on Fl. Rochambeau Island an extensive Hellion missile battery was being installed, to help intercept the ships of those helping the rebels. Each missile can go up to 3080 km away from where they were launched.

Nearing the friendly coasts of Guanivale and Kindred the landing ship/docks made a transmission requesting for safe harbor. Each landing ship had one frigate and one destroyer as an escort, with the fleet bombarding Mandela composed of one arsenal ship and two destroyers. The minelayers were busy mining the seas around Garvey/Nelson.

"All friendly units, this is UCS Valkyrie we are requesting permission to dock. We have fresh reinforcements." one landing ship/dock radioed.