The Citizen's Republic of Illa (TWI, IC)

[Vancouvia]

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=434376


The Vancouvian blockade of Illa Isle had been in place for 48 hours. Virtually every ship at the military's disposal had surrounded the island, their guns trained both outward and inward, their crew's fingers all steady on the trigger. The Vancouvian Congress had, in fact, probably twice as many ships more than they needed for a solid blockade, but, to the detriment of ongoing operations in the I.D., Charbagnia, San Javier, and Athara Magarat, they purposefully wanted to send a strong statement.

It was just one step of many into pushing Illa back into total submission. Airstrikes from both fixed wing and Yukons had already pulverized strategic targets, mostly in the countryside, but some in Westilla itself. Civilian casualties were simply not a concern of the administration, and despite repeated objections from a minority in Congress, more and more ordinance was unloaded onto any target deemed "in military use or capable for such use." Clinics, schools, post offices, bars, museums, and even churches (for they were common gathering places of the rebels) were bombed, day and night, around the clock, in such a repeated succession that one in Westilla would think something amiss if there was not an explosion every minute.

Still though, Westilla, and the island as a whole, gathered strength. The bombings had increased public support of independence to nearly 70%, and the swift creation of a Constitution increased general morale several fold. Yet, nefariously, the Constitution's Emergency Powers section was broad and absolute, and it was quickly activated to give former-mayor-now-party-leader Ignacio Campos great leeway in all matters of state. His party, El Frente Popular, had amassed almost complete power during the Constitution Convention, threatening all minority groups with expulsion or expungement from the "New Illa" if they did not fall in line.

There were already changes happening in Westilla. English was being purged; despite almost an 80% fluency rate, it had been widely forced upon Illa since the Vancouvian absorption. Street signs, names of businesses, even towns, were renamed overnight. Any business owner or mayor who refused was labeled a "Vank" or "Chico Azul" and harassed, beaten, or shot. Hundreds of people lined up to change their names from John to Juan, Mark to Marco, Mary to Maria. Speaking English in the streets was a dead giveaway of "Imperialist Sympathies," so was wearing gold or blue, failing to salute a member of the Citizen's Police or Citizen's Army, or not attending Citizen's Rallies in the streets.

It was in this climate that the 32nd cohort of the Vancouvian Special Forces quietly and quickly slipped onto the northeast corner of the island and began to grasp the situation at hand: a limitless quagmire of future destruction for all involved.

[Vancouvia]

"Remind me again why we're doing VEO's job, Mac?" I asked as I stared across the card table at him. He was bluffing and I was about to call.

"Because VEO's too busy watching Jimmy Bond films," he replied. "You sure you want to call?"

I laughed. "Now I'm twice as sure. Show 'em."

He plopped down a pair of aces. I plopped down my three cards, revealing a straight. I reached for the pot, eagerly hugging my arms around it and bringing it into my growing pile. We weren't playing for Coves, no, we were playing for the local currency: Illa Dollars.

"You think they would print these on something other than toilet paper," commented Mac, as he stole $1 and tore it in two with just his thumb and index finger.

"They're trying their best," I joked.

Mac and I were a small part of Operation Oxpecker, so named for the bird that would land on a mammal's back, eat insects, and stay there until shaken off. The irony wasn't lost on me. Oxpecker's goal was fairly simple: insert a VSF cohort onto the least populated part of Illa in civilian clothing, slowly immerse us into the country, gaining strategic intelligence, safe points, and sympathetic civilians when possible, and ultimately assist in the early stages of the mass Vancouvian invasion to retake the island.

Personally, I hated it. They had split up our squads in order to more easily blend in. We were stuck in pairs, carrying nothing but pistols, separated and scattered across Illa. It reminded me of Charbagnia but at least this time we did have the true element of surprise.

"Ante up," said Mac, shaking me back from this thought.

[Iosnil]

The red light illuminated the back of the plane, Captain Vesori stood near the tail gate waiting, his heart racing. Not due to the fear of the jump but the implications of this mission.

On paper it was simple enough just another forward recon however here right in what use to be Vancovia’s back yard was a different story. Getting caught be either side would have serious repercussions.

Captain Vesori hand picked his team for this assignment, as lead Squad of STaR’s each member of the team had to be the very best Iosnil had to offer.

The D-Z was north west of Sour lake, far enough away from the populated areas but not too far as to render any Recce patrols impossible.

The tail gate opened and the light flicked green. The Squads mission had begun.

[Iosnil]

OP 4, North of Westilla

“I think it’s time to get comms back home” Captain Vesori whispered to the Strike team Rad-Op. since the squad landed in Illa it had conducted recce patrols and build observation posts in key areas across the island. Vesori was no stranger to the horrors of war but what he saw here was nothing short of cruelty, everywhere they went the signs that Vancouvian air support had indiscriminately attacked the island and its people, this was suppose to be a part of Vancouvia, Vesori expected this from some back water dictatorship but not here. He pulled out his patrol report from his top left pocket while his Rad-Op set up the antennas. “Let’s just hope the politicians haven’t messed this up already sir”

Department of Iosnilian Defence, Iosnil

The War room was abuzz with activity, it was the hand over/take over between the day and night staff. Radio operators explaining every detail of the log books, in the centre of the room two majors stood over the regional map which displayed every Iosnilian military assets location. The off going officer explained what each marker was for and what that unit was currently doing. “Sirs we have an incoming message from Spectre One-Zero, it’s been relayed through a few different call signs but it’s priority one” came the voice of one of the young Radio operator “Spectre One-Zero?” Replied the off coming Major as he looked down at the map finding Spectre One-Zero’s location “Well it’s about bloody time, patch it through”

[Michigonia]

Antonio sprang upright in his bed. He wiped his sweaty brow and exhaled, his heart pounding slowly from another nightmare. It was the screams again.

"Are you okay, honey?" Mary asked as she turned over next to him, her Spanish still a work-in-progress.

"Yes, just another dream," he whispered, "go back to sleep." He hoped she wouldn't; he needed a smoke and some company.

Antonio slid out of bed as Mary sat up and turned on the lamp. The piercing light made her squint. "We need to get the hell home," she said in English to better show her frustration. "Has David emailed you?"

"Was just about to check." Antonio, sitting at his desk, lit a cigarette and opened his laptop. He shook his head, "Internet is down again."

"I can't believe this." Mary said, "He told us he could find a charter two weeks ago. Smoke outside please."

"He will. He told me they're opening up the budget." Antonio took one long drag and exhaled. "And they'll have to. The flight to Roelfdam was twenty thousand Guilders. There was one to Ludwic in Alteran, but they wanted twice that. There were a couple of sea plane charters out of Noronica, but they were worried about landing close to the blockade. Everyone is nervous this whole situation will get out of hand."

"It's already out of hand. Which is why we should have left with the others. There were even still plenty of flights in August. The four of us aren't going to save this whole damn country."

Antonio knew she was right. David had secured a flight for the entire team in July, just before the worst of the bombings. Back to Cortes by way of Nolon City. But there was too much work left to do. He had invested too much time in his patients. The elderly Manuel with his neuropathy, Catalina and her newborn twin girls. And then there were all the injuries from the drone strikes. Their little medical center was flooded with patients every day, which made Antonio guilty to leave.

Mary knew as much. She had witnessed him run to the church when it was hit by the drone, tears streaming down his face, determined to rescue those in the rubble. The screams haunted her ever since, but she didn't suffer the nightmares as Antonio did. She understood that his loyalties had grown strong with these locals, but she also knew that he wanted to keep her safe. And that meant leaving the island.

Antonio put out his cigarette and walked to the window. He looked up at the clear, dark fall sky. The waning moon shone bright as faint, thin clouds drifted by, like autumn leaves sailing down a creek.

Mary watched him for a moment, sensing the conflict in his thoughts. "I know you want to stay," she finally said. "And I want to help. But I didn't sign up for a war."

He sighed, shaking his head, "We're the only doctors for twenty kilometers, you know this. We're an international NGO, we're protected, the government won't target us, they know we're doing humanitarian work. We could stay for another month and see what happens."

"People know I'm a Vank." Mary said abruptly. "It's not just the drones I'm worried about."

"We're helping these people, Maria. We're not the enemy here. Besides, your Spanish is fine. "

She shook her head. "I'm going back to sleep, Quixote." As she reached for the light, the power went out. It was the third time in the last day.

Antonio looked out the window again; the whole street was dark. "I'll start the generator in the morning," he said through a yawn as he sat back down at his desk. "Did Miguel find gas today?"

"I think so," Mary said through the dark, uncertainly. "I gave him more cash, hopefully it was enough. We'll see him in the morning."

Antonio shook his head, "Might have to drive to Westilla again." As he stood to go back to bed, the lamp brightened suddenly, flooding the room once again.

"That was quick." Mary said.

"Thank God," Antonio reached for his laptop to close it, but stopped suddenly. The internet was back, and there was a new email.

"David."

[Vancouvia]

At the time when the first part of Operation Oxpecker began, there were a mere 315 Vancouvian Special Forces soldiers on the ground in Illa (members of the 32nd cohort), and fourteen VEO operatives. VEO had "deployed" almost entirely into Westilla, with their mission seeming more and more like a reporter's job and less and less like an intelligence operative's. The VSF, on the hand, had their operative zones primarily in the northern and northeast sections of the island - the rural, less defended, more sympathetic area.

Most importantly, the north held the Seven Falls Dam, a hydroelectric power source for over 80% of the country. It had been spared in the bombing and now was the primary objective of the 32nd. Their goal was to take the dam in the initial hours of the fighting, with help from any loyal Vancouvians still in Illa if possible, then hold it as a ransom until El Frente Popular had abdicated their power. It was a risky and optimistic move. Vancouvia would have the literal power of Illa in its hands, but Ignacio Campos and his party would almost certainly refuse to negotiate and would force Vancouvia's hand.

General Storm was adamantly against the idea that the dam held the key to the island, arguing instead that a prolonged invasion on all fronts would be the only way to sort the situation out. However, he had been overruled by Congress, like so many times before, and thus resigned himself to his task. If Congress wanted the dam, he would make damn sure they would have it.

[Vancouvia]

Secrecy was paramount. The problem with any secret operation of this size was the risk that it would be foiled and countered. General Storm knew this well, and thus, for the past few weeks, had given somewhat strange orders to his officers - a destroyer out in the open, moving squads in and out of Noronnica to keep the lanes by Illa busy, an airdrop here and there. It was a direct mislead - he knew that the opposition knew Vancouvia was coming, it was just a matter of when.