ANGOLAN BUSH WAR|IC|SEMI-CLOSED|MT

by **South Americanastan** » Sat Nov 20, 2021 5:39 pm

OOC

THE ANGOLAN BUSH WAR
THE JUNGLE KINGDOM

Kasai River, Angola

When Kelly, an Americanastanian immigrant to Angola, went to war, he was boy.

When he came back, he was a man.

Each individual shrapnel and bullet scar on his face told a unique story, of artillery blasts and AK rounds, of bayonets and knives, of "Para libertação" and "Quia Una Libertas, Libertas Omnium". The one on his right cheek from a well-aimed RPG round, the one on his left, from a poorly aimed 7mm South Americanastanian one. Every once in a while, one of his comrades or a member of his family could catch a glimpse of the youthful energy and brilliance he once had, but it would be gone as soon as it arrived.

This was his second tour along the Kasai, known to both SADF and ELN alike as "The Red River" due to the amount of blood that was spilled along it's banks. When the bullets weren't flying, however, it was a place of tranquility and calm. It's why Kelly came back to the river when no one else would. Despite the conflict all around them and the varying claims to leadership of Angola, Kelly had come to understand one thing; neither the SAAA nor ELN ruled here. The Kasai was the kingdom of the jungle. And so he sat in the branch of the tree, keeping watch over the river with his FM/AM radio. His legs, exposed by his shorts, baked in the sun, while his arms did the same lacking the cover of his short sleeve uniform.

The Rhodesian Brushstroke pattern of his shirt was simple yet complex, a collection of colors brushed over with strokes that from a distance could easily be mistaken for the tall grass. His shorts contained no distinct pattern, instead being a hellspawn blend of OD Green and Khaki Drill. The radio stood out, a dot of black on a green landscape. Kelly didn't care. He had seen it all, from AKs to RPGs, and from human waves to guerrilla ambushes.

As the radio blasted it's music, Kelly took another look through his issued binoculars.

The other side of the river was similar to the side he was on, as the riverbed gave way to jungle. However, suddenly, one of the bushes quickly brushed to the side, followed by the bush to it's right, which was followed by the bush to that bush's right, and so on.

Kelly moved his binoculars to intercept whatever was causing this as it moved past. A man clad in OD green rushed through the bushes, his face nearly jet black, standing out among the trees. The glint of an AKM rifle shone through the branches of the bush. Kelly talked into his walkie-talkie.

"This is 4-2, I've got a hostile on the other side of the river. Permission to take the shot?"

"Go ahead, 4-2"

Kelly took his rifle from it's sling, which was hanging from one of the tree branches, and pointed it towards the bushes. The man had stopped, concealing himself in a bush as Kelly sighted his rifle.

"Come on... come on..."

The man began to stand up, presenting himself towards the business end of the TRR-A1. Kelly pulled the trigger.

Bang.

The 7x55mm round soared the 100 yards to it's target in a tenth of a second, striking the man in his torso. The bullet pierced his heart, sending him crumpling to the floor.

"This is 4-2, hostile down."

And so the Kasai fell quiet again.

THE ANGOLAN BUSH WAR
BLOOD ON THE SAVANNAH

Shambumba, Democratic Republic of Congo

As the members of the 1st Brigade, Light Infantry flew over the Angola-Congo border, the men began preparing their gear for their assault on the ELN positions at Shambumba. The ZB-98s began to descend towards the target, signaling that the assault was to start soon. The fireforce, led by an HG-91 "Kill Car" in the front, with 4 fully loaded ZB-98s following close behind, began to circle the area, only exciting the men more as they waited to move in. Eventually, the fireforce split as an M1-30 "Hermes" Transport Aircraft arrived above, carrying another 4 sticks inside it. The ZB-98s, each carrying one "Stick" of 8 men, began to move away from the zone, hovering over areas around the camp, encircling it.

Soon enough, a voice came over the radio.

"GREEN LIGHT! GO! GO! GO!"

The men jumped down from the helicopters, which were hovering roughly 5 feet above the ground, towards the Savannah below. The sound of the rotors covered the sound of their exit, and they approached quietly. The Savannah grass brushed against their bare lower legs as they crawled towards the positions of the ELN.

Meanwhile, the men in the M1-30 jumped out of the plane's cargo hold, opening their parachutes as they floated down towards the ELN positions. The held their sling-less SAR M76s flush to their shoulder by the pistol grip, while using their other hand to steer the parachute, each stick covering one of the holes between the 4 helicopter sticks.

The sticks reached a small ridge, with the treeline starting at it's peak. Inside the treeline, movement could be seen. The men aimed their rifles at the hill, signaling the presence of hostiles to each other via a thumbs down signal.

"This is K-Car, you have permission to open fire"

The soldiers open up on the treeline as the HG-91 fire it's autocannons and rockets. The insurgents returned fire, with wild 7.62 rounds flying towards the 1BLI, and 7mm Rounds soaring right back. A barrage of RPG fire forces the HG-91 to retreat away from the area, forcing the HG-91 to fire from a distance.

The sticks began moving closer to the treeline, covered by suppressing fire from DPMG-M99 Machine Guns. The gunfire from their SARs become more frequent and precise, downing insurgents with each shot. The insurgents continue their nearly random AK fire, whizzing over the heads of the SADF troops.

Soon enough, the gunfire from the treeline fall silent. The 1BLI soldiers move in, sweeping for any survivors and the location of the camp. The sticks converge at the center of the forest, which is where the camp happens to be located.

"Alright, what do we got in terms of casualties?"

"Our stick came out clean"

"So did ours"

"We've got two wounded, one took a grazing shot to the torso and the other got hit in the arm, they should be fine"

"Any other casualties?"

"We've got one hit in the shoulder"

"That's it, I think"

"Alright"

The fireforce lead speaks into his radio.

"This is Banana 1-1, we've got three wounded, requesting MedEvac. Bring the Kerosene, too"

"Copy that, Banana 1-1"

A helicopter arrives, transporting the three wounded and offloading 5 Jerrycans of Kerosene, which the fireforce pours around the camp. The Fireforce lead lights a match and throws it into the camp, sending the camp up in flames.

"This is Banana 1-1, ready for evac."

"Copy that"

A group of ATCV 12s arrive in the area. The men perform the painstaking task of loading the corpses onto transports, before leaving across the border, the smoke of the base fire rising above the distant horizon.

THE ANGOLAN BUSH WAR
BACON 'N' BULLETS

Western Bank of the Zambezi, Near Cazombo, Angola

"C'mon, right through this bush here."

The squad weaved between trees and brush as they made their way through their patrol route. The 15-man squad walked down the road, with 5 men covering the front, along another 5 covering the right and left flanks. They were followed by an MPAV IFV, it's turret rotating between flanks.

"We should be coming up on Observation Post Sterling soon"

In the distance, a plume of campfire smoke rose above the trees, and the smell of freshly cooked bacon wafted through the air. Albeit, it was SADF-rationed bacon, but still bacon nonetheless. The patrol moved through a thick outcropping of brush before reaching the camp.

"Hey! 'Sup, fuckers!" A voice from the guard post called.

"Hi, Kozacs" The Squad leader responded "You gonna let us in or not"

"Sure, head right in, there's still some extra bacon left. Don't tell anyone, but command sent us a bunch of extra bacon rations"

The squad moves into the observation post, where they find two squads of soldiers gathered around a charcoal barbecue.

"Bacon?" The man at the grill says. His nameplate reads Cpl. Koffman.

"Sure, how much you got left?"

"About 40 rations worth"

"Really, they gave you that much extra?"

"Yeah, somewhere in the SADF's logistical system an extra "0" got tacked on, so we got 500 emergency rations instead of 50. We've decided to throw 50 on the grill and saving the rest for what we're supposed to be using them for."

"Nice, get us a ration each, so that'll be..." the squad leader took a second to count "15 plus 3 for the guys in the MPAV"

"Alright, I've got twenty on the grill now, so this should be relatively quick. By the way, shouldn't you guys be on patrol right now?"

"Eh, we showed up early and the FLA never crosses the river, should have another 10 minutes or so."

"Nice, cap any of 'em recently?"

"Not today, no"

"Huh, usually you're a damn war magnet. You see the Adirondack State game yesterday?"

"Oof, yep, team fucking sucks"

"Maybe they'll be better next ye- Ope, bacon's done. To go or to stay?"

The squad leader checks his watch "To stay, we've still got time"

Koffman hands the squad their plates of bacon.

Once the squad finishes eating, the men begin readying to move out.

"Alright, we've gotta go."

"Stay safe."

"We'll try."

The squad sets out on it's patrol route, searching for any signs of FLA activity. Soon enough, they find it. A small FLA camp sits near the side of the road, secluded by the tall grass of the Savannah. The squad fails to notice this until a bullet flies over the MPAV, sending the squad into a rush to take cover.

The FLA combatants begin moving out of the camp towards the SADF forces, firing 5.45 rounds wildly at the group. The squad returns fire with their TRR-A1s, in an attempt to keep the camp at bay.

"Observation Post Sterling! This is X-Ray Squad, we need QRF 1.06 Mikes down the road ASAP!"

"Copy that X-Ray. Sit tight, QRF is en route"

The men use the IFV for cover and grass for concealment while attempting to suppress the insurgents. The rat-tat-tat of the squad's DPMG-M99 Machine Gun can be heard all the way to OP Sterling.

After 3 minutes of waiting, a QRF force of 20 men finally arrived, carried in 2 ATCV 12s. As they run out the back of the ATCVs, one of the men takes a final bite of his bacon. The MPAV fires its 20mm autocannon into the insurgent positions to cover their disembarking.

The insurgents continue to suppress the men however, and it becomes harder to return fire due to the sheer volume of bullets being shot at the SADF forces.

"The fuck are we doing? Get JOC Luau on the phone NOW!"

"JOC Luau, this is X-Ray Squad, we need an airstrike at -11.863080, 22.909822"

"Airstrike is en route, ETA 5 minutes"

Suddenly, a mortar shell flies through the air.

"SHIT! WE'RE GETTING MORTARED! FAN OUT!"

The SADF forces fan out, dragging the four men hit by the blast into the brush with them. 2 of the men are severely wounded and unable to fight, while 1 is dead and the other is bandaged and continues fighting. The mortar shells continue falling on the group to little effect, as the men are concealed in the Savannah and what poorly made and maintained mortar shells that do hit close to the MPAV have their shrapnel bounce off the MPAV's V-hull armor. As the FLA fighters mount another advance, a Lightning Mk-12A strike fighter swoops in, dropping 8 250 Lb JDAMs from it's wing hardpoints.

The blast sends most of the FLA combatants flying through the air, blowing those in the immediate blast zone into a fine dust. What hostiles are left are captured, and those who don't comply are killed. At the end of the battle, 7 SADF soldiers lay dead, and 8 more are wounded. The men leave back towards OP Sterling, as another squad arrives to take the patrol's place.

by **The Selkie** » Sun Nov 21, 2021 4:52 am

Transport Ship Bonargrid-Marcach, moored in Soyo, Angola.
Alaina Bonargrid of the Tribe of Cork.
Mercenaries - the scum of the earth.
That was, what one man had once called me... that was right after he and I had been in bed together. I had been younger back then, with both eyes. He had been an officer for one Lutetiian rebel group or the other, maybe even the LCN or another crime syndicate. We had found out the next day and as he was from a group opposing our employers... nine months later, I had given birth to my third child.
I briefly wondered, how Finnegan was.
My children and I were not on speaking terms. That might have something to do with me dumping them off with their Uncle as soon as they were weaned, sending a thick cheque with their alimony every month to their Uncle despite four of the five already out of his house, and little more. Being a mercenary and being a mother were not things one could mix.
Dressed in camouflage uniform, not my customary black and white dress, my silver hair bound up, I passed our vehicle deck. The Bonargrid-Marcach was a former RoRo-ferry, had been bought by my father and company founder. It was ideal for our purposes, transport capacity and a base for us to work from, a 'helicopter deck', if one wanted to call it that, vehicle decks for our armoured and unarmoured cars and for the four Coara Light Tanks, enough space for the almost five hundred men and women, who were under the employ of whoever could afford us.
Right now, that was Escorregadia Oil, an oil firm operating in the Soyo Zone in Angola. There was a civil war in Angola, the South Americanastanian African Authority on one side, two large insurgent groups on their own sides, and the United Nations Mission in Angola trying to keep the peace.
Escorregadia Oil didn't care about any of that as long as the oil flowed.
Our job was to make sure, that this was the case.
I ascended from the vehicle decks into the superstructure and further up. The Promenade Deck was a general recreation deck, with a bar, video game rooms, a small cinema, the works. I heard music from one of the bars, the night shift letting loose a bit to celebrate, that they survived another day.
The next two decks were the living quarters.
A man came out of one of the quarters, dressed in nothing but boxer shorts and a grin.
"Hope you use a condom, Eoin.", I commented, as I passed by.
The man grinned. "A condom would reply a lack of stamina, boss."
I laughed.
High up was the heart of our company, the command centre. We called the assembly of wires, radios, planning desks and so on that because there was no other term. The press briefing room was there as well - it came in handy from time to time.
In any case, I came here with a purpose.
"Morning, boss!", the head of the night shift called, sat down his headphones.
Ayden Scrista of the Tribe of Fermanagh, the commander of III. Ealta, one of our platoon-sized subunits, was one of my subordinates and Lieutenants, a tall man and quite a good shot. He yawned. "Night was calm, but we have a bit of movement along the border to the Congo."
"Anything we need to worry about?"
"No, not yet.", Ayden replied, "Our escort went through uncontested and the technicians did their jobs as well. Seemed pretty satisfied."
That was the issue with oil industry: The operations didn't need many people and those who were needed were usually not from around the area. After all, these were specialist jobs, why try and train locals if you could use your own people?
The oil rigs out at sea didn't have that problem, they had specialist crews anyways.
"That's nice.", I replied and nodded, "Well, then Ayden... your lot can go to bed now. II. Ealta takes over for the day."
II. and III. Ealta patrolled the pipelines leading to Soyo Port (we were docked adjacent to it) and escorted the technicians checking up on them. When needed, V. Ealta, our engineers, supported them, but usually, V., IV. and I. Ealta were stationed at the oil field itself. The two Lances, I. Lance with its tanks and II. Lance with the airmobile infantry, were here, aboard the Bonargrid-Marcach, as a quick reaction force should anything along the pipelines go wrong... or if the field was under attack.
"Thanks, boss.", Ayden said, "Best regards to Fiona."
"Heard you.", a new voice said, and Fiona Pobalai of the Tribe of Fermanagh, our Chief Public Officer, came walking up in her strict pantsuit. She was a combat-experienced mercenary as anyone here, but she had a knack for PR. She blew Ayden a kiss. "Good night, Beag Marcagh."
"Dreaming of you - always.", Ayden replied.
One should add, that Fiona was an attractive woman, which made her quite effective at PR as well. She was also lesbian.
Fiona laughed as Ayden went and turned to me. "Nothing from my end overnight. Let's see, what the day brings!"
"Indeed... let's see."
II. Ealta would depart for their morning patrol at 10 o'clock.

by **Bolslania** » Sun Nov 21, 2021 11:10 am

Near Camanga, Angola

FLA training camp.

Captain Michael O'Keefe sat in his command tent at FLA Camp Red. On his table rested a tablet, alongside a steaming cup of bad coffee and a map of the region.

On his tablet he could see the locations of the 5 A400s that were keeping this operation running. Supplying the FLA with ammunition, weapons, vehicles, food, medical supplies, and all the other resources needed to have any chance of winning this war. One had just touched down an Kenneth Kaunda airport, on it was several crates full of SAM launchers, TOW missiles, surplus G3 rifles, and body armor. The SAAA air superiority had been a major pain in the ass for the FLA, and short of supplying the FLA with fighter jets and pilots, MANPADs were what they could easily teach FLA fighters to use. However given the Zambian infrastructure, or lack thereof, it would take several days at least for them to get out here.

At this camp, FLA fighters were rigorously drilled in maneuvers, marksmanship, combatives, MOUT, and other essential elements of fighting. O'Keefe could hear rifles going off as fighters were practicing their marksmanship, as well as a platoon of fighters running past his tent. In full kit by the sounds of the rattling of body armor, rifles, and packs. He set down the tablet, and picking up his coffee, went outside. He took a swig of it as he watched the company of fighters jog past him, sweat beading on their foreheads.

The Bolslanians had equipped most units of the FLA with kevlar body armor and surplus G3 rifles for ammunition standardization purposes. While the AKM was a good and durable rifle, the Bolslanians did not have many of them, and even less ammunition for them. What they had a ton of was surplus G3s and .308 ammunition. Furthermore the fighters had been issued surplus Flecktarn uniforms. They were beginning to look more like professional soldiers as opposed to ragtag idiots with assault rifles. Now the FLA couldn't hope to conventionally fight the SAAA, and that was not the intention of the training and the equipment.

A man appeared next to O'Keefe. It was Lieutenant Hermann Mueller. He was holding a clipboard of what appeared to be results from a range session.

"A Company did very well on the range earlier today sir." Mueller said, gesturing at the men running in front of them.

" Pvt. Manuel João even went 40 for 40 on his qualification." O'Keefe raised a singular eyebrow.

"Really? Kid's good with a rifle."

"Indeed he is sir. Should we give him an optic?" Mueller asked.

"Yeah, throw an optic on his rifle and tell him to familiarize himself with it. Get Sergeant Barnes to help him." O'Keefe replied, Mueller nodded and strode off after A Company to go collect the Private.

Near Chicote, Angola

Platoon 3, Company B, 1st FLA Brigade.

Lieutenant Wilson Dala lead his platoon on a forward patrol in SAAA territory. The purpose of the patrol was to scout out SAAA strength down in southern Angola, potentially for an FLA assault on the region. So far they hadn't seen any SAAA soldiers. But that could quickly change.

And so it did. His scout's fist shot up in to the air, and the platoon took a knee in the tall Savannah grasslands. Lt. Dala moved up to his scout, careful to keep his head below the grass. He came to a rest next to the scout.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Look." The scout said, pointing off into the distance. Dala brought the binoculars, which had been hanging around his neck, to his eyes. Soon enough he saw the problem. It was an SAAA mobile patrol. Appeared to be an MPAV rolling along a dirt road 200 meters off. It appeared to have a foot escort of 15 dismounted soldiers.

"Shit." He said, turning around, he noted that his NCOs had already come to him.

"Alright, Francisco, take Squad 1 up to that small rise, get the RPG set up to take out that lead vehicle. Lopes, take 2 behind those rocks, have your RPG ready as well in case 1 misses/. Ferreira, have your PKM ready to mop up those foot soldiers.. Pereira, you're in reserve behind those trees over there. Go." He said quickly. His NCOs darted back off into the brush. He went with Squad 1 up on to a small rise in the grasslands. Laying down he kept his binoculars trained on the SAAA vehicles. They were now only 125 meters away. Too much longer and they would see the FLA fighters.

"Everyone ready?" He asked in to his radio, courtesy of the Bolslanians. The 4 squads sounded off. Everyone was in position. Turning to the RPG gunner he asked.

"Ready?" The gunner grunted in affirmation.

"Fire." he said. With a Phwoosh sound the rocket streaked towards the lead vehicle, hitting it straight in the window. The 85mm rocket grenade punched through the ballistic glass with ease, exploding inside the MPAV. It killed or dismembered the majority of the occupants of the vehicle, setting it ablaze as the explosive ignited ammunition inside the vehicle. The MPAV drifted to the side of the road, smoke pouring out from the shattered windows. Squad 3's PKM opened fire on the foot soldiers, many of whom dropped under the combined shrapnel from the RPG and the spray of bullets from the PKM. After a few seconds of fire, there were no more exposed SAAA soldiers.

"Squad 4, advance and ensure that the Imperialists are dead." Dala said in to his radio. He could see the 9 members of Squad 4 moving through the grass.

When they arrived at the scene of the ambush, the one MPAV lay on its side, a few meters from it sat the burning MPAV, its doors blown open from the RPG. They arose out of the grass coming out on to the road. Pereira raised his fist, and the squad came to a halt. They waited for a moment, and listened. Over the sound of the burning MPAV, groans of wounded soldiers could be heard, and someone was talking. Pereira signaled, and the squad began to advance in a loose line into the ambush area. A round whizzed past Pereira's head and the FLA sergeant threw himself to the ground as fire erupted from the other side of the road. He raised his rifle from the prone position and began returning fire. He saw a Rhodesian brushstroke style pattern moving through the grass, he drew a bead on it and fire. The camo pattern screamed in mortal agony and fell to the ground, and like that the skirmish was over.

"Everyone ok?" Pereira called out.

"I've been hit!" One of his men called out "It's just a graze though, I'll be alright." Pereira stood up and continued with the sweep.

Some SAAA soldiers had managed to survive the initial RPG round in the first MPAV, and were desperately trying to crawl away on broken legs and arms. Pereira rolled one man over with his boot, the burned and bloodied soldier throwing his hands up in an act of surrender.

"No! Please!" He shouted, but Pereira disregarded the man's plea for mercy, shooting him in the head with his G3. The other members of his squad did similar to the handful of SAAA soldiers that were still alive.

"Squad 4 here, all SAAA soldiers are dead, over."

"Copy that 4, all squads, return to rally point before a QRF shows up, over." Dala's voice crackled over the radio.

And just like that, the FLA platoon slunk back towards the rest of their company, which was positioned 2 miles east of the Angolan-Zambian border.

by **Dayganistan** » Sun Nov 21, 2021 12:14 pm

Soyo International Airport, Angola

What would be the first of several transport planes over the next several days, a C-130J of the Dayganistan National Air Force, came to a halt on the tarmac of the Soyo International Airport and began to taxi towards the terminal, occupied by UN troops. This C-130 was carrying what would be the first wave of peacekeepers from Dayganistan.The 60 paratroopers of the 44th Air Assault Brigade's Pathfinder Platoon, a four man Tactical Air Control Party from the Air Force, as well as the overall commander of Dayganistan's deployment to Angola, Major General Ali Reza Herati and his command staff. Alongside the relatively small amount of personnel, the aircraft carried a few Ford Ranger pickup trucks, painted white and marked "UN" in large black letters on the hood and doors, some armed with heavy machine guns or automatic grenade launchers.

Major General Herati was a combat experienced officer. His career spanned from fighting the Soviets in the 1980s as a young Lieutenant, to multiple tours through Somalia and Iraq at various levels of command. His weathered face and neatly trimmed greying beard would certainly go to show the stresses of a long career as an officer, the countless times he's had to tell parents their son or daughter wasn't coming home, the endless political games he had to play with the ruling party. But he stuck with it out of love of country, he couldn't imagine doing anything else at this point. He had been preparing for this mission for months, since he learned he would be commanding it. He could only hope the men and women under his command had been trained just as well. He already had several plans in mind for what he would do early in this mission, one of which was the construction of a second airfield, a dirt strip for transport craft, somewhere outside of the city. That would have to wait for his engineers to arrive, whenever that would be.

When the aircraft finished unloading, it taxied away from the terminal, taking off to head back home to pick up its next load of troops, supplies or vehicles. The General ordered the small number of troops to fall in around him for his briefing.

"Soldiers, welcome to Angola," he began. "I won't mess around, this is going to be tough. As much as we don't like it, UN has restrictive rules of engagement. We're hoping that will change as other nations come to reinforce the mission because with the amount of troops coming in, I think the Security Council is gearing up for something big here. We're the first troops on the ground from Dayganistan, so our first order of business is to establish headquarters. We're going to mount our vehicles and head to a large hotel, about one kilometer away from the airport. This is where we will establish our headquarters. From there, we'll plan our next moves over the coming days as more of our battlegroup arrives in country. There is a mosque in this city so I would like to meet with the imam, make sure Angola's Muslim community, however small it may be, knows someone is going to look out for them. Beyond that, this briefing is dismissed. We roll out in 15 minutes. May Allah protect us and the Angolan people."

Hotel Nempanzu, Soyo, Angola

A few minutes after leaving the airport, the convoy of pickup trucks and vehicles borrowed from other members of the UN mission already on the ground arrived outside of the hotel where they would establish headquarters. It looked modern enough and was probably the most expensive hotel in the city, but that didn't matter if the UN would be compensating the hotel for lost business as it turns into a UN compound. General Herati's voice would soon come through the radios in every vehicle.

"Sheikh to all callsigns. All troops dismount. Headquarters section and TACPs will come into the hotel with me, Pathfinders will be on security. Out."

The troops dismounted and the borrowed vehicles, Georgian operated MRAPs, drove away from the hotel. The Pathfinder platoon moved into a defensive posture, as the General walked through the revolving front doors of the hotel with his headquarters element. There were still civilian workers and a few visitors milling about, the heavily armed, camouflage wearing men and women who had just walked in looking relatively out of place. The General approached the front desk of the headquarters, currently being manned by an attractive local woman. Poor girl is about to lose her job to an MP, he thought.

The woman at the front desk noticed General Herati's blue beret as he approached the desk. "You're the UN officer? The conference room has been set up as your command post, follow me."

The General and his detail followed the young woman through the lobby and up the stairs. They went down a hallway and the woman opened a door to one of the conference rooms. It had access to the hotel balcony, which overlooked the pool. The troops walked in and the woman returned to her desk. Inside, a command center had been set up with almost everything the General needed. Computers, projector screens, radios, and other mission critical electronics. Likely used by the officer who had previously been in charge of this sector, and still officially would be until the transfer of command ceremony later in the day. He took his seat at the largest desk in the room and immediately began getting in contact with command at home to find where his personnel were in transit. The rest of his airborne troops and Naval Special Warfare operators were to arrive between later in the current day and early in the following morning, with his heavier mechanized assets to arrive over the next few days after. With that in mind, he was ready to start planning missions for his battlegroup.

by **The Heradorian Commonwealth** » Sun Nov 21, 2021 2:48 pm

Heradorian Theater Command
Luanda
1152 Local Time

Lieutenant Colonel Jamie MacCoghlan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his XO Major Zofia Gaffney sat just as uncomfortably across from him next to one of the intelligence officers that had only introduced himself as Lee. MacCoghlan passed the official message over to Gaffney who read over it quickly before rolling her eyes.

"Will there be any problems, Lieutenant Colonel?" Lee asked in a thick Newfoundland accent, hands crossed in his lap and reclined in the old office chair as he waited for one of the pair to say something.

"Of course not." MacCoghlan said, nodding to the paper in Gaffney's hands. "The circumstances are just... unusual. I've never heard of Intelligence taking command of an operation this size before, is all."

"I can sympathize with your position, but your role here is critical," Lee said again, his voice had kept its same flat quality since he had first met the two officers. "The Crown and its Government are heavily invested in the SAAA petrochemical industry, losing it to rebels would be a major blow to our economic stability as well as proving to be quite the setback to our standing in the region."

"I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say we understand the stakes here," Gaffney cut in. She had been up all night dealing with logistical issues and had clearly been hoping to catch a bit of sleep before Lee had shown up. "What, I think, we don't understand is why you're running this sort of show when the UN is already here in force to contain the issue."

For the first time, Lee's face broke its mask and he smiled. "Trust in Allah, Major, but tie up your camel."

"So, just to confirm, we do the normal 'smile and wave' routine, run patrols, and just give the special's cover to operate further in the country? The SAAA has approved this?" MacCoghlan cut back in, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Of course, it would certainly be improper for us not to have filled in our allies." Lee took to his feet. "And just so we're clear, those orders are Double Black rated Military Secrets, none of this leaves this room and the approved list of officers for you to fill in are on the second page, they will be briefed in this room as well. If you need to get in contact with the Intelligence section moving forward, ping the request through the Yeats and let them know you need to speak to Captain Nagle. I or one of my subordinates will contact you after." with that, Lee opened the door to MacCoghlan makeshift office and strode out like they had just been having tea.

Gaffney put her head in her hands and groaned. "This isn't going to go well."

HNS William Butler Yeats
60 nm off the coast of Luanda
1322

The NH-90 touched down on the Yeats rear and was quickly rolled inside, even with the James Joyce looming nearby to ward off prying eyes the crew wasn't taking chances. A pair of casually dressed civilians climbed out, flanked by ten operators in clean military gear holding local rifles. None of the crew seemed to be comfortable looking their way and everyone gave them a wide berth as they strode out of the hangar and deeper into the ship guided by one of the Yeats officers. Penny wasn't used to this sort of thing. Her forte` had always been in data analysis and signals intelligence, she wasn't a field operative and the man in front of her seemed keenly aware of it. He was built like the operators that surrounded them, they all even seemed to have the same walk. They hadn't spoken much, she had only learned that his name was Rhys, at least in Angola it was, and he had been running the Angolan station out of the embassy when the conflict had kicked off. If he was annoyed that he had been replaced as head by Lee, he didn't show it, Penny privately figured he might have been relieved to be able to get back out in the field again and do the work he seemed so accustomed to.

"Do you want to meet him?" Rhys asked over his shoulder, so accustomed to the ship that he was through one of the naval doors effortlessly without looking at it. "Figure if you're going to be getting his intel, might as well get it from him."

"Um... sure." Penny agreed. Why would she need to meet him? She'd never met any of her sources before. But if Rhys thought it was wise, she might as well. One of the Operators looked to another and chuckled.

Rhys stopped in front of a thick door, locked from their side, and handed Penny a balaclava. "You might want to put this on."

"Why? You aren't wearing one."

"It helps when you're new to this. Helps with the smell too."

She shook her head, looking from Rhys to the operators around her. "No, thank you Rhys."

"Suit yourself." he shrugged and took out a small vial of liquid, rubbing it around his nostrils. It quickly became apparent why.

When Rhys opened the door, a thick stench of vomit and feces assaulted Penny and she stumbled backward hands over her nose. One of the Operators caught her and handed her a similar vial. "Peppermint oil, ma'am, helps with the smell." She took it and applied what was probably too much as her nose started to burn and her eyes began to water, but at least it wasn't what she had been smelling before.

"Nice to see you again, Hansi." Rhys called out loudly, taking a seat on a stool he took from next to the door. Penny's stomach dropped when she saw Hansi. He was all skin and bones, beaten harshly and without clothing, the deck around him was smeared in bodily fluids and his arms were chained to the ceiling with just enough slack to let them sit horizontally but not enough to let them drop. "You're going to tell my nice colleague here what you told me yesterday, ok? You do that and I have a real nice meal planned for you." Rhys took a bottle of juice from out of his pocket and held it out to him, just out of his reach. Penny had never seen a man look at juice the way Hansi was. "She's going to confirm everything you tell us, ok? If it's good, things are gonna start looking up for you buddy. We'll give you a shower, toilet time, maybe a nice hot meal or two every now and then." Rhys pulled the juice back, uncapping it and taking a long drink. "You lie to me though, and what happens?" Hansi started to quietly sob. "That's right Hansi, you lie and I have to hurt you." Hansi's body shook as he began to cry uncontrolably. "So you want to make that story of yours nice and airtight Hansi. I don't like hurting you buddy, we're friends, remember?" When Hansi didn't reply Rhys angrily threw his stool against the wall causing the room to ring loudly. "Aren't we friends, Hansi!? You're hurting my feelings buddy!" It seemed like Rhys was next to the man in a step, pulling his head back by the hair as he forced the man to meet his gaze. "What are we, Hansi?"

"We're friends!" Hansi cried.

"That's right." in a moment Rhys had changed, all smiles again. "Friends don't lie to friends, Hansi. If you lie, I have to hurt you. If you lie, I have to put you in the box again, Hansi."

Penny had to wait to start the debrief, Hansi needed a few minutes to stop having a panic attack over whatever 'the box' was.

by **Anowa** » Sun Nov 21, 2021 8:21 pm

_{Sgt. Soren Valiantsson "The Beast of Erong"}
_{1st AAD, Brigade HQ Company}
_{Tsavo AFB}
_Anowa
_{21/11/2021 - 1227 AST}

Tsavo AFB was currently a hub of activity. Currently, a series of smaller cargo craft and multirole fighters were burning off the tarmac on route to the Zambian Angolan border.

Off to the side sat a young man, stubble across his face, name tag frammed by a deep blue stitching, on the shoulder of his BDU; SPECTRS, Sapper and Foward Support Controller tabs were arrayed above his airborne unit patch, and rank insignia. The last time he'd seen this specific base this high alert was on news reels back when he was a child, during a civil war that ran a few years before he was born to 09, not too long after he entered 2nd Year.

Last time he participated in this level of activity was right before Erong, right before he went through a nightmare of a time. The 20 year old sighed as he stood up from the pile of wooden poles he had been sitting on, it had been the latest in a long list of odd PSYOPS planned by command. It was Drăculea's mandate, bury the poles six feet in the ground facing upright, and shove dead innies on the end. It was somewhat inspired by one of the man's distant ancestors (you know which one), it was fucked up, but it would probably do the job. Walking through a smuggling trail only to come upon dozens of your dead buddies impaled on a forest of spikes would be demoralising at the least, and horrifying depending on your religion.

The man shook his head and headed back towards the command vehicle. As one of the Division's RTOs' he'd be sticking with it both on foot and mounted, alongside officers of a much higher paygrade and enlisted with a lot less combat training.

"Sergeant, you can't smoke in here."

Soren turned towards the voice, an LT not much... no, younger than him. No facial hair, still had baby fat. Had the look on his face stating he could do no wrong, name tag read F. Haas. Commander of C Company, 1st Bat.

"With due respect Lieutenant. It's an open air hangar with no avgas or fuel in it, and no 'no smoking' signs." Soren shrugged, "Shouldn't need to put it out."

"Sergeant, put it out. Now." The man's eyes narrowed, in the way that told Soren enough. The man didn't like being wrong, at all.

"Copy that." Soren rather sluggishly pulled the cigarette out and flicked it to the ground. he hadn't even lifted his foot off of it before the Butter Bar had started walking out of the hangar. And the man hadn't even been gone for a second before Soren lit up another cigarette. In his mind, Soren knew this deployment was going to be a mess.

The inhabitants of JOC Luau, JOC Lumbala, JOC Caprivi, and a myriad of other checkpoints, visible outposts, and training bases for both the SADF, ELN, and Zambian Armed Forces would awake at 1700 on the 21st of November to the sound of distant jet engines, fluttering papers and a shrill whistling from a parachuting 150 pound aluminum canisters.

The ground was littered in these locations with hundreds, if not thousands of leaflets. On the Angolan side of the border, each one stating a very clear and present message from the Anowan Gov't.

They were now on a time limit.

by **Piikala** » Sun Nov 21, 2021 10:00 pm

The Luanda Oriental Pagoda(a global luxury Piikalan Hotel brand)
Luanda, Angola
11:45

"What's taking those foreigners so long to get here..." says Takeno Tuaji, a diplomat for the Imperial Piikalan government. "Yes, they sure are taking their damn sweet time to get here…. We were supposed to have started this signing at 10:00, and they're still not here..." says Nakamura Morialis O-8 of the Imperial Piikalan Kempeitai and to be Military attache to the SAAP. The two men sat boarded at the foot of a large lacquer sitting table set upon a Hale Mat. The two men begin to start talking about the new treaty that the two governments were to sign. "So why does the Ministry of Industry care so much about signing this treaty anyway?" "It's so that the Piikalan manufacturers can have access to all the industrial diamonds they need… Didn't someone at the War Pagoda(Piikalan Pentagon) brief you on all this?" "I was told we are to be signing this so that we can test the emperor's new meat grinders on the communists and anarchists. While stabilizing the land for Piikalan companies?" "Well, you aren't wrong, but that's beside the point….

by **Pan-Asiatic States** » Mon Nov 22, 2021 4:12 am

Pan-Asiatic Ministry of Foreign Affairs (PAMFA)
Pan-Asiatic States • Estados Pan-Asyatiko • 泛亚洲国家

Press Release | Pahayag | 新闻稿

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE - November 22, 2021

ENGLISH | INGLES | 英语

RE: South Americanistanian Angola Diplomatic Advisory

The PEOPLE'S FEDERATION OF PAN-ASIATIC STATES is closely monitoring the situation in the territory currently being governed by the South Americanastanian African Authority (SAAA), and notes the heightening of tensions between several armed groups currently engaged in open military conflict against one another. This emerging situation has been noted by the ministry to be a major threat towards the security of ethnic Asian and the Pan-Asiatic States' official diplomatic personnel currently residing in the Angolan region, as well as the wellbeing of civilians caught in the crossfire of the current conflict.

The Sixth Administration of the Pan-Asiatic States therefore calls upon all militant parties in Angola to implement the utmost restraint, prevent any further aggression against any and all civilians, as well as ensure respect for human rights. We urge the SAAA to do all that is within its means to bring a swift and peaceable conclusion to the conflict within their country, and consider entering negotiations with its belligerent groups in order to attain that conclusion if necessary. Any damage by the SAAA committed to, whether deliberately or indeliberately, the unnecessary destruction of lives and property in violation of established international convention will surely only strain the relationship between itself and the Pan-Asiatic States - especially when other avenues for ending the current conflict are existing.

Additionally, the Pan-Asiatic Ministry of Foreign Affairs (PAMFA) has raised Alert Level for the whole of the Angolan region to 4. Mandatory repatriation efforts have been greenlighted. All ethnic Asians who are still in the Angolan region, particularly those who are in the country for non-essential reasons, are encouraged to consider leaving by commercial means at the earliest possible time. Government-sanctioned transportation will be provided in the coming weeks, and shall be available to Asians free of cost. Asians should contact their local consulate or embassy via their official telephone lines or through the official PAMFA Facebook page for information regarding repatriation scheduling.

Aside from advising Asians to defer traveling to Angola for nonessential reasons altogether until the situation becomes more stable PAMFA warns Asians to avoid zones bordering the country as well, given the inter-border nature of the conflict in the country. Asians are generally advised to simply defer their travel from African territories around Angola wholly, especially if such travel is nonessential, in order to greatly minimize security risks for oneself and for one's traveling companions.

As previously stated, since PAMFA deems the current situation dangerous to its diplomatic personnel in the region as well, a gradual evacuation order for Pan-Asiatic States ambassadors and attachés has also been authorized - although it will be ensured by the Sixth Administration that government staff will be the last to leave the country. The entire process of vacating both Asian nationals and diplomatic personnel is expected to take no less than two (2) weeks especially with the full cooperation of Asians still in Angola.

Rest assured that the Sixth Administration has convened state functionaries (including the State-Presidents and the Asian Communist Party), is working with the Pan-Asiatic States' traditional allies abroad, as well as initiating dialogue with the SAAA to ensure minimal - if any - damages to the lives and property of Asians and civilians during the course of the current conflict. We will continue to uphold international law and promote the welfare the Asian people in these trying times.

Forefathers guide us all.

Guanyu "Abra" Abramovich y Florante Jr.
Secretary-General of the Pan-Asiatic States
Chairman of the Asian Communist Party

by **South Americanastan** » Tue Nov 23, 2021 6:45 pm

THE ANGOLAN BUSH WAR
SPEAK SOFTLY...

Windhoek, South Americanastanian Africa

"THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THE ANOWANS ARE GOING TO BOMB US?"

Micheal Smith held the telephone close to his ear, spittle splashing onto the bottom end of it as he yelled.

"I mean that the Anowans just dropped leaflets over eastern Angola saying they will bomb us, sir"

"Fuckin' 'ey. Get the ERC on the phone, NOW."

"Will do, sir."

Smith slammed the telephone on the receiver, causing it to shake from the impact. He took a deep breath.

"GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!"

He slunk back down in his chair, his hand resting on his forehead. He rolled out a map of South Americanastanian Africa kept on the side of his desk, and began annotating it with possible Anowan targets.

Soon enough, the telephone began to ring, quietly, almost sheepishly, as if it was afraid of what Smith would do to it after the next call. Smith picked up the telephone, holding it tight to the side of his head.

"Hello, this is Governor Smith speaking."

"This is Jack Friedman, you said you wanted to speak with the Emergency Response Council?"

"Yes, I did, in fact. The Anowans just dropped leaflets over eastern Angola threatening to bomb us if we didn't pull back 100 kilometers east from the 22nd Meridian."

"Do you think you can hold up against an Anowan air campaign?"

"I think we could, but it'd be a pyrrhic victory at best, and the losses would be massive."

"Then order the men to pull back, except for JOC Caprivi and the surrounding areas, we'll negotiate to keep that area from whatever fuckery they're trying."

"So you just want me to abandon a large chunk of Angola?"

"I'd hardly say abandon, we'll be back. But yes, we will have to pull out of the area to preserve the SADF's combat ability in Angola."

"Alright, I'll send out the order. What will you be doing about it?"

"Well, the ERC will extend an olive branch to the Anowans and try to negotiate. The foreign relations department will draft a statement on the Anowan actions, and we'll perform a show of force operation by moving into Zambia wiping out some FLA positions."

"Alright, this gambit better work."

"Oh, Mike. They always do."

LITTLEMAN COMMUNICATIONS CO.
FROM: EMERGENCY RESPONSE COUNCIL OF SOUTH AMERICANASTAN
TO: ANOWAN JOINT CHIEFS

As you know, and presumably authorized and initiated, the Anowan air force has threatened to airstrike South Americanastanian Defence Force (Henceforth known as SADF) positions if the SADF does not move west of 100 km west of the 22nd Meridian. We do not appreciate this jump to a violent solution, a solution we believe will both further destabilize the region and harm the civilian populace. However, we are willing to negotiate for a peaceful solution to this issue, as we do not believe conflict with a foreign entity is worth the cost of said conflict.

As such, we would like to request a moratorium on the Anowan timeframe for airstrikes as necessary to negotiate a peaceful solution. As we are sure you would agree, a peaceful solution is almost always preferable to a violent one. We believe the Anowan demands to be both unreasonable and overly harmful to South Americanastan's government and people. Should the SADF withdraw, the insurgent cause will be strengthened and allowed to run free in eastern Angola, and should they stay, even in limited areas in a limited capacity, the insurgent cause can still be contained effectively.

THE ANGOLAN BUSH WAR
...AND CARRY A BIG STICK

OPERATION GATLING II

Western Zambia

The SAAF-RhAF joint squadron, temporarily formed for Operation Gatling II, was a diverse bunch. On the front of the formation of 36 aircraft flew a single Lightning Mk 12A, and on it's flanks flew two Atlas Cheetahs. This pattern continued in a "V" formation, totaling 25 aircraft spearheading the squadron. Behind them was a 10-plane cluster of Thunder Mk 7s, Blackburn Buccaneers, and English Electric Canberras, 3 of each. Moving ahead of both formations were two more Lightning Mk 12As, equipped for reconnaissance.

The group, known as “Green Squadron” had been hastily formed for this mission out of SAAF assets at JOC Caprivi, and assorted RhAF assets in range of the approximate positions of Camp Green and Camp Blue. As they crossed the Rhodesian-Zambian border, the squadron lowered it’s altitude to avoid Zambian radar coverage.

The two recon equipped Mk 12As rushed ahead of the group, searching for the FLA camps. Their thermal cameras searched the landscape for any sign of hostile activity in the approximate area of each camp. Soon enough, Camp Green came into view, a large group of hot thermal signatures, the ammo storage lighting up the camera's field of view like a Christmas tree.

"Dissident Camp 1 has been spotted at coordinates Alpha Two-Five-Zero"

Only 5 minutes later, the other plane spotted Camp Blue, located smack-dab in the middle of West Lunga National Park.

"Dissident Camp 2 has been spotted at coordinates Beta Five-One-Nine"

"This is Green Leader, Operation Gatling II is a go!"

Camp Blue, Zambia

With the confirmation of coordinates for the two FLA camps, the SAAF-RhAF bomber formation began closing in Camp Blue, while the fighters began patrolling above Zambian Airspace, watching airfields to ensure no Zambian response would affect the rest of the operation. Meanwhile, the 10 bombers close in on Camp Blue, down towards the camp to drop their bombs.

"This Green 2-1, can we get a comms check going before we find out the hard way?"

"Green 2-2, comms live"

"Green 2-3, comms live"

Green 2-4, comms live"

"Green 2-5, comms live"

"Green 2-6, comms live"

"Green 2-7, comms live"

"Green 2-8, comms live"

"Green 2-9, comms live"

No response came from Green 2-10.

"Green 2-10, can you hear me? I repeat, can you hear me?"

Green 2-10 can faintly be heard scrambling to put a coffee cup in a makeshift cup holder before answering.

"Green 2-10, comms live"

"Alright, let's rock 'n' roll"

Camp Green, Zambia

The 300 members of the 1st Brigade, Light Infantry had infiltrated the country the previous day, crossing the Zambezi River covertly from Victoria Falls National Park into Livingstone Crocodile Park. They advanced in groups of 15, traveling by foot through the Zambian Savannah, being sure to avoid any heavily populated areas to avoid suspicion. Dressed in civilian clothes, they trekked towards the Kafue National Park, traveling in white Toyota Hiluxes planted on the Zambian side of the border.

They traveled up the D769 highway, taking side roads to avoid cities when they could. To anyone else, the men may have looked like tourists, coming to Zambia to see its national parks. This wasn't entirely wrong, they were going to one of the national parks, after all, but not for tourism. When asked, they plainly stated:

"We're heading up to Kafue National Park to see the wildlife. They're beautiful, ain't they?"

Even stopping to "ask for directions" a couple times, they continued their journey up the D769 highway, getting closer to Kafue as they went. After nearly a day of driving, they had finally reached the park, entering the area and proceeding to a designated location in the center of the park. The groups met their, setting up camp with tourist-esque camping tents, waiting for the next day to come.

Soon enough, the next day arrived, and the men woke bright and early. 10 Boeing Vertol 234s, modified to reduce sound, flew low across the treetops of Kafue, arriving at the designated camp at different times, each time offloading guns, ammunition, uniforms, and PPE to the group of soldiers at the camp. The men make a 15 mile trek out of Kafue by the Hiluxes, burning the tents and destroying any civilian supplies. They position themselves in a concealed forest near in Kataba, 3 miles away from Camp Green.

"This is Green Leader, Operation Gatling II is a go!"

The men began moving out of Kataba towards Camp Green on foot, as the SAAF-RhAF bombers soon pass overhead. They begin creeping towards Camp Green, the Savannah grass brushing against their faces as they crawl between trees and bushes. They form a circle around the camp, and stay in place for about 2 minutes, before 5 HG-91 helicopters can be seen in the distance.

"Aztec, this is Stop 1, fire support is present, just say the word."

The members of 1BLI creep towards Camp Green, concealing themselves in the brush and grass of the Savannah. As they wildlife flee, they play recorded tapes of Zambian wildlife to conceal themselves. Soon enough, they come within the effective range of their 7.62x51mm rounds, and stop.

"Stop 1, fireball"

by **New Antarcticania** » Tue Nov 23, 2021 7:16 pm

"Welcome to your world
There's no turning back
Even when we sleep
We will find you
Acting on your best behavior
Turn your back on mother nature
Everybody
Wants to.rule the world"

"As in war"
Task force "Demeter"
22/11/21

100 people crammed onboard an IL-76, Trying not to die of boredom or suffer from hearing loss from the Plane's engines. That's Task force Demeter's situation in a nutshell, now on the Last leg of their 10 hour flight, they now approach the Angolian coast with ~~ill~~ charitable intent. Other IL-76s behind then are loaded with trucks filled with Civilian relief rations - with task force Hygieia in tow, they are to undergo several routes, Which all direct them to settlements that were hit hard by the Conflict.

This sort of operation was rare but High command has supposedly determined that The best way to "sell" the locals the communist ideology was hearts and minds. That, and not mentioning the Horrific atrocities that the Antarticans committed in previous conflicts. War crimes and PR aside, this was expected to be a milk run, despite the Antarticans still be armed and armored - get in, do a couple of tours around all of the waypoints, get out. An soldier's dream these days, could've been worse, could've been posted to sharfaristan, or worse - Terra nova.
Few know of Angolia, and even fewer have heard of it. All they know is that its in south Africa and thus its hot as shit over there, figuratively and literally.
And they were going over there.

by **The Heradorian Commonwealth** » Tue Nov 23, 2021 9:42 pm

SADF Command
Luanda
1115

The Heradorian convoy rolled through the roads of Luanda with impunity, a Platoon of M-ATV's and a Diplomatic SUV from the embassy in the middle. The Diplomatic vehicle was packed with a six-man team of HIM operators in plain clothes and rolled up gaiters with Lee, Rhys, and Penny in the middle row. Lee looked as unbothered as ever, watching Angolan's go about their day through the heavily tinted windows.

"Will he ever get out?" Penny asked, looking up from the paperwork she had been pretending to read.

"Who?" Rhys muttered, shifting in his seat as he began to wake up.

"Hansi. Will he ever be released?"

Rhys looked to Lee who gave a nod. "No. As far as the SAAA is concerned, Hansi Bumba died a week ago in an unfortunate incident during a raid."

Penny looked back down at the paperwork, trying to come up with something to say to fill the silence in the vehicle when it finally rocked to a stop.

"Alright." Lee grunted as he opened the door and hopped out. "Penny and Rhys with me, keep the car running, I doubt this will take long."

"Yessir." The driver nodded, taking out a slim novel from the center console and flipping to a dog eared page.

The rear of the 6x6 M-ATV in front of the Diplomatic SUV came open and MacCoghlan and Gaffney came out to join the three Intelligence Officers and the five made their way into the building. The meeting was a quick and formal affair, MacCoghlan and Gaffney went over the progress they had been making so far with the distribution of the 6th Dragoons and their operations planned for the immediate future. Questions were asked and answered and coffee was served in nice cups. Then the Brigadier General and his aids looked to Lee.

"Mr. Fox, I believe you also have something to share."

"Yes sir, thank you." Lee took out several folders from his sling bag and handed them out to the SADF and Heradorians as well as unrolling a map and setting it up on a cork board. "As I'm sure everyone is aware, Heradorian special forces have recently come into information regarding an ELN forward base ten kilometers northwest of a village called Naumba, here." He circled an area of trees on the map. "Intel was confirmed by Ms. O'Lennon and our ISR EC-19 last night." Lee went back to his seat and motioned to Penny. "Ms. O'Lennon?"

"Hello everyone." She started to draw more details on the map. "Pending SADF approval, we intend to send two special forces squads supported by assets from our own Red team who will make a late night ground approach. Another two squads of HASTR will be on standby to the west of Calibala. Two DAP's from the 77th Special Air Squadron will shadow the initial assault and move on station once contact is made. We'll also have our own CASEVAC on station as well as the EC-19 on overwatch for C&C." Standing next to the map and feeling uncomfortably like a student making a presentation, she took a breath. "Barring the very worst case scenarios we don't see the SADF being called on to intervene. Our goals are twofold and straight fowrard: the capture of prisoners and denial of assets to local enemy forces." She took another deep breath, briefing theater commanders was not something she ever saw herself doing. "Any questions?"

by **Hathian Prime** » Wed Nov 24, 2021 3:14 pm

The initial phase of the operation had gone rather smoothly, in the opinions of most Hathenian leaders. In the first 4 hours, they had secured a beachhead as well as landed troops further inland and supplies needed to construct a rudimentary FOB a few miles South-East of the Cuanza River. Of course, the beachhead had been secured with no resistance, as expected. The operations had occurred in the early hours of dawn from 03:23 to 07:30. The first phase swiftly drew to a close, and the start of the second began.
A convoy of TTVs, AVs, and APCs sped across the Angolan roads. The lighter scout variants of the AVs drove down the roads, ahead of the main convoy. Their task was providing light security for the convoy behind them, as well as reporting suspicious behaviors.
Corporal Wiesse, an NCO in 1st ICO Alpha Company, turned the turret to face the left side of the line of vehicles as they floored it towards the FOB. Local’s vehicles were pulled to the side of the road, some staring in awe at the long line of military vehicles. The young Corporal smirked at a group of what looked like bewildered tourists, waving at them as her vehicle passed. She could feel a sense of pride swelling in her chest. Her soldiers and her unit were representing the best and brightest of the Republic’s military.
Corporal Wiesse was jarred out of her thoughts when she was tossed forward. The butt of the machine gun slammed directly into her chest, the force of which was mostly absorbed by her flak. The convoy was on the last stretch to the FOB after what hours upon hours of driving.

1st Lieutenant Braun, second in command of Special Forces Squad 7-A, watched the distant clouds of dust grow larger and larger through a pair of binoculars. About damn time, he thought to himself. While securing and building the FOB hadn’t been too hard, waiting for reinforcements had been more than a little nerve wracking for some of the more junior soldiers. Their fears began to finally settle as they watched the convoy in the distance. Though for Braun, the arrival of the convoys only foreshadowed something much worse to him: journalists.
His squad had already been debriefed that numerous Hathenian journalists, both professional and amateurs, were staked out in the country waiting to catch footage of the Hathenian military. Soon, he thought, they’ll be scrambling out of their hiding places like cockroaches.
They would hinder the effort to rescue Hathenian tourists who had gotten trapped in the country as the insurgency spiraled out of control.
The local Government had already been briefed on the size of the garrison in the FOB, as well as the base’s location. Hathenian leadership had extended an invitation for the South Ameristaan to send officials to inspect the base.

by **Anowa** » Wed Nov 24, 2021 5:09 pm

ROYAL ANOWAN DISPATCH SERVICE
FROM: THE ANOWAN HOUSE OF ASTARTE
TO: EMERGENCY RESPONSE COUNCIL OF SOUTH AMERICANASTAN

As it stands, by several estimations by those who study and research this type of situation, AKA those who can make informed estimations; the region's stability will be no more affected in the negative than by the aspirations of a minor power trying to expand much too fast on the world stage. The catalyst for the intervention of the Anowan armed forces in the region of Angola and Zambia has been the prolonged and routine inability of the South Americanastan administration to contain a civil war that has been ongoing for the better part of half a century, de jure or de facto; along with a depraved insistence on disenfranchising seemingly any political party left of centre on any political spectrum. The fault is ultimately your own.

Do not be mistaken, the leaflets were not a threat, they were the equivalent of a eviction notice. The bombs will be dropped whether your soldiers are under the bomb sights or not. It is also not a declaration of war on your naive administration, otherwise bombs would be falling over Burlington and American armour would be overrunning your borders. Rather than leaflets, bombs, and paratroopers falling over Angola.

We are granting you an additional 8 hours to vacate your forces from your JOCs, as we imagine your leaders momentarily unable to wrap their heads around the fact that if they stumble here politically they will be facing a peer-to-peer conflict they have no hope of winning in any meaningful capacity. You cannot kill our people in any way that matters, remember this.

Otherwise, there will be no moratorium, there will be no negotiation for you, just as you have failed to negotiate with the Frente de Libertação de Angola, and the Exército de Libertação Nacional. This is our peaceful solution. There is absolutely zero reason for the Anowan government, her people, and it's armed forces to believe the SADF's competence ranges past being able to find their face with both hands. The ongoing insurgency you find yourself adamant on continuing with no room for compromise, as you do elsewhere, has gone on much too long with little change for the region's betterment.

Be sure your soldiers are aware of this change, inform them that should they arrive to checkpoints while armed, they will be disarmed and detained, if they are found elsewhere in the DMZ, they will be treated as violating the mandate, and will be shot.

Signed: Queen Lena II, House Astarte

_{Capt. Johannes "Swallow" Berthelsen}
_{24th Interceptor Squadron "Hard Liner"}
_{Zambian Airspace 12,000 Meters, en route to the newly established Anowan DMZ}
_Anowa
_{23/11/2021 - 1700 AST}

Looking out the window, Johannes could see mushroom clouds glowing from the rays of the evening sun. They weren't nuclear, of course they weren't, the last time Anowans had used a nuclear weapon to open a battle was in 1979. Instead, they were the payloads of a few cargo planes, almost 150 thousand pounds of Comp H6 explosive detonating over positions in the DMZ, cleared or not. He could feel a few of the closer ones in his chest.

Cpt. Kuźni: <<Hard Liner 1, this is Mule 1.>>

Johannes' witnessing the distant explosions was interrupted by the voice of the 303rd Airlift's lead, <<Go ahead Mule 1.>>

Cpt. Kuźni: <<Loadmaster thinks he sees movement at Target 17-T. Can you confirm?>>

<<Affim. Standby.>> A few button presses and the integrated targeting pod on the KA-18's underside was now surveying the target, a position known as Camp Blue was sizeable, large, and a routine target. Standard fact of a a bunch of infantry moving around in the base, but now being picked up on the passive radar were a series of aircraft, picked out as SA and Rhodie. <<ALCON, we have SA and Rhodesian aircraft en route to Target 17-T. Gungnir, advise?>>

Col. Moisuc: <<DMZ is enforceable, engage the ground targets as planned, but do not engage air targets, the No Fly Zone is not in place. Ground Forces are condition green, air forces are condition yellow.>>

A series of copies echoed through the net, almost immediately afterwards, the six Fighter Squadrons escorting the three wings of cargo craft behind them immediately switched off their master safes, and went active radar. Whereas previously, passive radar would've kept them somewhat hidden , going active was the equivalent to turning on a flashlight. After that, the RhAF and SAAF aircraft would be soft spiked, an indication that aircraft had attained a radar lock but had not yet fired any ordinance. A very clear warning.

Col. Moisuc: <<Berthelsen, give 'em the script.>>

A recited series of words came to the forefront of the officer;s mind as he switched his frequency to one that Rhodies and Saffies could both receive.

<<Unidentified RhAF and SAAF aircraft, this is Hard Liner 1 of the Anowan Air Force. This is a message for the commander concerning your unit or units associated with the Rhodesian or South Americanastan Air Forces. We are attacking the insurrectionist base designated Camp Blue. This attack is against Angolan dissidents and not against Rhodesia, or South Americasnastan. Anowa has no quarrel, repeat, no quarrel with Rhodesia, or South Americasnastan or their security forces. We therefore ask you not to intervene or oppose our attack. However, we are advising you to turn to bearing Two-Seven-Zero and reach a minimum safe distance of 11 kilometers, and are under orders to shoot down any aircraft which does not comply with this request and attempts to fire upon us. Did you copy all that?>>

by **Piikala** » Wed Nov 24, 2021 7:41 pm

PSDFCGC(Piikalan Self Defense Force Coast Guard Cutter*) Pua Lei no Koa
100 Nautical Miles off the Coast from Soyo Angola
21:00

*Note the Piikalan Coast Guard was founded as a navy to guard the Piikalan Coastline and not as a law enforcement force.

"Shogun Kameno, we're within 100 miles of the LDZ. However, we still have yet to receive approval for landing from the Imperial House(Piikalan government) Shogun."
"My... my... aren't those elected pencil pushers useless... they can't even do a simple phone call. No wonder why we don't elect our divine emperor."
"Yes, Shogun, the westerns truly are ignorant in their enlightenment ideals, but what should I tell the fleet to do?"
The Shogun reaches forward and picks up a cup of tea, and takes a long sip. Then places the ceramic mug onto the tatami mat floor.
"Order the launching of two drones armed with cluster bombs and explosive anti-tank missiles. Also, tell the Imperial Hous to get their shit together as we're landing tomorrow morning at 04:00."
"Yes, Shogun!" He turns towards the Piikalan Flag dropped towards the back of the room. "Long live the Imperial House!" Then bows, then leaves the Shoguns quarters.

On the deck of the PSDFCGC Pua Lei no Koa
95 miles off the Coast from Soyo Angola
22:00

The two hulls of the heavy destroyer(Piikalan class of ship in between a cruiser and destroyer in size) sail quickly through the South Atlantic seas in its wake the twenty large transport ships and hospital ship. The whole fleet is sailing from Piikala sails in blackout with complete radio silence. Being guided by the stars and illuminated by the little light from the heavens. It's in the dark the Pua Lei's deck is bustling with people all moving silently in a highly practiced procedure. On the deck sits two large Hei Hei drones armed with SMART timed cluster bombs and anti-tank missiles. The drones fully armed are raised off their launch carts and onto a launcher that sits on the Pua Lei two rear six-point-three-inch gun turrets(Standard Piikalan Naval round). With crews locking the drones onto the launchers, the ship's crew prepares to launch.
"Clear Props!"
Suddenly the sound of four turboprops can be heard coughing to life with a soft whine.
"Check systems!"
"Systems clear!"
"Launch!"
Suddenly a loud hiss can be heard like a shot of compressed steam shoots the two Hae Haes into flight and off into the night.

A Phone Call to Governor Smith and President Jack Freidman From the Piikala Minister of Foreign Relations Sakura Yogori
22:00 Angolan time; 07:00 Piikala Time; 16:00 EST time

A female voice with a mild german accented English can be heard on the phone saying, "Greetings, Mr. President and Governor Smith. I am Minister Yogori, Sakura of the Piikalan Minister of Foreign Relations. We're calling to ask for your nation's permission to allow Piikalan defensive operations in the SAAA jurisdiction to ensure the protection of Piikalan's interest..."

by **Bolslania** » Thu Nov 25, 2021 9:15 am

Camp Blue, Zambia.

Captain Anders Mikkelson looked up as he could hear the roar of jet engines in the distance. He set his coffee down on the table as he sprung in to action.

"Everybody get to cover! SADF aircraft inbound!" He managed to shout just before the bombers could be seen streaking towards the camp. The FLA fighters and BSWC operators on the camp began sprinting for the bomb shelters. He shouted at some of the operators around him.

"Get the MANPADS goddammit!" Given the proximity of Camp Blue to Kenneth Kaunda International, the MANPADS that had been delivered two days ago had almost immediately reached the camp. However the FLA fighters hadn't yet been trained in its use, but the Bolslanians knew how to use them. They rushed towards the storage depot, two men grabbing a box containing a Starstreak plus one round each. They spread out around the camp, some even venturing outside of it as they ripped open the boxes, revealing the MANPAD system inside. The operators ripped them out of their packaging, one man mounting it, and another loading the ordnance.

Mikkelson himself had one of the starstreaks mounted in the dirt, drawing a bead on what appeared to be a Canberra. Now SACLOS had its ups and downs, but its major downside of the operator having to guide it when was negated by the fact that the enemy aircraft were coming right at them. He steadied his breath, the sights of the Starstreak staying fixed on the Canberra.

"Lord if these men have sinned, forgive them for their trespasses. But do so quickly, for they will be arriving shortly. This I have decided for them." He muttered to himself before firing the missile. Almost immediately the missile accelerated to Mach 4, flying towards the bomber faster than the pilots could react. As the missile approached the Canberra it deployed the 3 submunitions. They exploded in the V formation, sending shrapnel in to all three aircraft. The targeted Canberra's left wing was torn apart, the bomber plummeting towards the ground. The Buccaneer leading the formation was minorly hit, without causing any sever damage, and the other plane in the formation was also hit by shrapnel, blowing off its right flap.

"Good fuckin hit!" Sergeant Barnes, the man who was assisting Mikkelson, shouted as the Canberra plummeted towards the ground in a trail of smoke, exploding upon impact with the hard, unforgiving terrain. After Mikkelson fired, the other operators began opening fire. 5 more Starstreak missiles soared in to the air, and 3 of them found their targets, sending 3 more SADF aircraft to a fiery demise on the plains of the Savannah.

But it wasn't enough. The operators had claimed 4 SADF aircraft, but still 20 bombers were bearing down on Camp Blue, even from here Mikkelson could see the bomb bay doors opening.

"Get to cover! Now!" He shouted. The operators quickly picked up the Starstreaks, and ran for the air raid trenches. Mikkelson dropped inside one just as the first bombs began falling, the world becoming an ungodly cacophony of explosions, engines, and screams. An FLA fighter in the trench with Mikkelson began screaming madly, his hands clutching the sides of his helmet as he was overcome by pure, mortal fear.

After a minute that stretched on for an eternity, the bombing run was over. Mikkelson stood up to observe the damages. The camp lay in ruins, many of the buildings completely destroyed, and any that still remained standing were heavily damaged. Several bombs had landed directly in the air raid trenches, bits and pieces of men strewn about the camp.

"Jesus christ." He muttered. The haunting sounds of wounded men filled the air, medics rushing about trying to save any wounded that they could. Barnes had calmed the screaming fighter in the trench, his screams having been calmed to whimpering. Mikkelson stepped out of the trench, and the ground was wet. Soaked with blood, guts, and churned up dirt. He watched as the SADF bombers disappeared in to the distance, leaving Camp Blue wreathed in smoke.

Camp Green, Zambia

Captain James Smith stood in the center of the camp, observing the FLA insurgents go about their drills under the supervision of BWSC operators. He had so far been pleased with their performance, the training was coming along nicely. He paused as he thought he heard a repetitive chopping of a helicopter's blades. He barely had time to process it before the Camp was racked with explosions.

"Everyone get some fucking cover!" He yelled, throwing himself in to a air raid trench alongside several FLA fighters. A Barracks cabin was hit directly by a rocket, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. He heard the screaming of men too slow to find cover. Dirt and debris landed amongst the men huddling in the trench, covering them all in a fine layer of dust. As soon as it began it ended, the bombardment concluding as the enemy attack helicopters flew overhead.

"Defensive positions! Brace for attack!" He shouted. It was shouted down the line and men began rising out of their cover, running over to the sandbag emplacements that had been set up around the camp. Silence fell over the Savannah, except for the odd sound of wildlife from the trees.

"What the hell?" He pondered as he scanned the grasslands. The animals should've long departed or fallen silent. Then, the penny dropped.

"Open fire into the grass!" He shouted. There was a moment's confusion before the fighters began spraying rounds into the grasslands, the distinct green color of PKM tracer rounds sawing through the tall Savannah grass.

by **Allanea** » Thu Nov 25, 2021 2:19 pm

From: Carlos D. Vlaun, Junior Ambassador, Ministry of Foreign Affairs
To:The Government of South Americanastan
CC: Major General Ali Reza Herati

Dear friends!

It appears that the situation in Angola is deteriorating rapidly. It is our belief that things are going to get a lot worse before they get any better. In light of these events, we would wish to offer assistance to the people of Angola. It is currently not our desire to engage in direct combat with any of the rebel factions, however we wish to be clear we will make arrangements to defend ourselves if permitted.

Our principal goal is twofold:

1. One, we wish to distribute malaria vaccine and food aid to the people of Angola. For this purpose we wish to set an aid camp at a location that's convenient to the UN and the government of South Americanastan, and to deploy a small force (in any event, no more than 500-1000 men) to fortify this camp in light of the propensity of terror groups to attack such positions. Moreover, we wish to deliver food aid to be distributed by UN forces – in the form of dry milk mix, rice, vitamins, and high-calory foods such as frozen meat, cheese, and others, all as coordinated with the UN. As such we would like you to inform us where we can land aircraft to hand over these supplies to UN forces.

2. We wish to organize an effort to airlift up to 30,000 refugees out of Angola and to the Free Kingdom of Allanea. (For this purpose, as Angola is an active war zone, with multiple terror groups active at once and with serious problems with the supply of food, with disease, and with other issues, we see no diplomatic difficulty with us accepting that the residents of Angola who wish to seek refugee status in the Free Kingdom are so accepted). To do so, it would be ideal if we received the permission of the Government of South Americanastan, and the cooperation of the United Nations peacekeeping force.

Please respond to me with your view of the situation as soon as possible.

Lives are at stake.

Yours,
Carlos.

by **South Americanastan** » Thu Nov 25, 2021 6:24 pm

LITTLEMAN COMMUNICATIONS CO.
FROM: SOUTH AMERICANASTAN EMERGENCY RESPONSE COUNCIL
TO: THE ANOWAN HOUSE OF ASTARTE

Your assessment of this conflict and reasons for intervention, along with your baseless claim that South Americanastan has a "depraved insistence on disenfranchising seemingly any political party left of centre on any political spectrum" only proves to use further that neither you nor the nation you lead is knowledgable enough nor qualified to handle this conflict. The SADF has managed to keep the insurgency to just a small corner of Angola, while efficiently and consistently seeking out and destroying insurgents. We will not have a nation who somehow got embroiled in three coups over the course of 30 years tell us that we have done poorly in stabilizing the region when they have been in a similar or worse position themselves.

An eviction notice implies that you owned this land in the first place, which you do not. The SADF is not being evicted, it is being forced from their rightful property in violation of international law. The only people that you are fooling when you claim this to be an “eviction notice” are yourselves, and we’d advise you to drop the act before people call you out on it.

Considering 1/2 of of the FLA’s bases are being razed to the ground as we speak, we’d say the SADF is doing pretty well for itself.

Additionally, next time you ask your pilots to relay a warning to an SADF/RhAF force, we’d advise you not to rip said warning out of the biography of a former RhAF pilot.

EMERGENCY RESPONSE COUNCIL OF SOUTH AMERICANASTAN
- Jack Friedman, President of South Americanastan
- Garrett Quentin, Speaker of the United Congress
- Hatter Kiligton, Chief General of the SADF
- Henry Savoy, Congressional Opposition Leader
- Ahanu Harrison, Tribal Chiefs Representative

THE ANGOLAN BUSH WAR
IN THE TALL GRASS

OPERATION GATLING II

Camp Blue, Zambia

The explosions of the bombs on Camp Blue reached into the sky, the craters almost as deep as the smoke was high. The SAAF/RhAF formation began turning in a 180, returning to their base in Rhodesia.

"Damn, shit's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Nothing like the smell of napalm in the morning!"

"But we didn't even use napalm?"

"Sorry, just needed to get that reference in"

"You didn't even get the line right, it's 'I love the smell of napalm in the morning' "

"Alright, alright, you've made your point."

"It is a thing of beauty though, nothing like i-"

Suddenly, a voice begins emitting through the international channel.

"Unidentified RhAF and SAAF aircraft, this is Hard Liner 1 of the Anowan Air Force. This is a message for the commander concerning your unit or units associated with the Rhodesian or South Americanastan Air Forces. We are attacking the insurrectionist base designated Camp Blue. This attack is against Angolan dissidents and not against Rhodesia, or South Americasnastan. Anowa has no quarrel, repeat, no quarrel with Rhodesia, or South Americasnastan or their security forces. We therefore ask you not to intervene or oppose our attack. However, we are advising you to turn to bearing Two-Seven-Zero and reach a minimum safe distance of 11 kilometers, and are under orders to shoot down any aircraft which does not comply with this request and attempts to fire upon us. Did you copy all that?"

"No need, we were already leaving."

Camp Green, Zambia

As the FLA forces in the camp opened fire into the brush, the 1BLI soldiers began to fire right back, their guns camo-painted to blend in with the grass, flash hiders concealing their position. They continue to fire from a prone position, with some kneeling to get a better line of sight towards the enemy. PKM tracers fly wildly through the grass, keeping the soldiers on their toes. The men use the tracers to direct suppressing fire of their own, with the odd grenade being lobbed towards the FLA machine guns.

"HEY! GET THE MG OVER HERE!"

A machine gunner crawls up towards a small hump, peeking over the top, also at the hump sits another soldier, peeking his SAR over the top of the ridge, his field cap perched on top. Suddenly, a burst of PKM tracer fire flies at the position, the field cap off the top of the rifle, but luckily failing to hit the barrel.

"Get me some covering fire, I'm gonna take that fucker out."

The machine gunner peeks his DPMG-M99 over the top of the hump, firing it towards the camp. The other soldier pops up above the hump, firing three times towards the PKM gunners position. The first bullet pierces straight through the man's neck, effectively severing his Carotid on the way through. The gunner collapses, a massive pool of blood quickly forming around him as all blood leaving his heart seeps into the ground, depriving his body of any kind of blood flow.

The men continued to crawl forward under the suppressing fire, their movement going nearly undetected in the tall grass and chaos of the battlefield. Sprays of automatic fire erupted from the 1BLI positions, covering more precise automatic fire, picking off FLA troops.

"STOP 1! THIS IS AZTEC! WE NEED ANOTHER FIREBALL HERE!"

"Aztec, this is Stop 1, we've ran our rockets dry. Cannons still firing but that's it. Green Squadron should be approaching, they'll be able to give you some support"

"Copy that, Stop 1. Green Squadron, this is Aztec, we need a fireball at Camp Green, ASAP."

The roar of jets is heard over the horizon, as Green Squadron approaches the camp. The jets begin swooping down, strafing the camp with their autocannons, circling back around to strafe the camp again after each run. They fire what air to ground missiles they have left onto the camp, sending dirt and debris flying through the air. Automatic SAR fire attempts to suppress the FLA fighters to keep them from firing MANPADS at the planes, as 1BLI seizes the opportunity to continue their careful advance.

THE ANGOLAN BUSH WAR
TUCK AND RUN

Lumbala, Angola

Sergeant Major Johnathan McKinney stood at the front of the JOC Luanda airstrip, watching as the evacuation of the base and it's surrounding areas commenced. JOC Luanda had been working night and day for the evacuation, it's airstrip lit by spotlights as the M1-30s continued landing, loading, and leaving in quick succession. The evacuation had been ongoing for 1 1/4 days now, most of which was spent evacuating civilians from the city, a policy which had been laid out in the orders to evacuate.

Section B, Subsection C:

All SADF positions must also evacuate as many civilians as possible within their coverage area, ZB-98s, Chinooks, and M1-30s will be provided for this purpose. All civilians will be compensated for their property in the area that they have left behind.

And so, in accordance with this policy, JOC Lumbala, along with other SADF military positions, had been evacuating civilians from the land surrounding them. As the (by his count) 45th M1-30 landed, another group of people got into the planes cargo hold, waving goodbye to the land they lived in.

Suddenly, a voice came over the bases loudspeakers.

"Attention all Joint Operations Center Lumbala personnel, all civilians have been evacuated from JOC Lumbala's coverage area"

The soldiers at JOC Lumbala began packing up their things, and the officers collected any and all documents. The planes stationed their took off from the airstrip one last time, moving towards airbases outside of the Anowan DMZ. ATCV 17s lined up, as personnel boarded them, heaving bags of personal belongings and equipment onto the trucks. Finally, the men had loaded up their bags, and got into the back of the ATCV 17s, waving a final goodbye to the base.

And so the convoy took off towards the rising sun, leaving the area as they had found it, with only one radio left behind, the final tape inserted into it playing on loop.

There's a convoy leaving in the morning
There's a convoy leaving at the break of day
There's a convoy bringing us home.
There's a convoy leaving.

If you look at the sky, then so will I;
All those stars in the blue, I'll be wishing on them too.
If you think of everyone as a good thing to come;
Like a convoy leaving.

There's a convoy leaving in the morning
There's a convoy leaving at the break of day.
There's a convoy bringing us home.
There's a convoy leaving.

Soon I'll say goodbyes to all those guys;
All the times that we had, we'll forget about the bad
And we know that somewhere there's an answer to each prayer;
Like a convoy leaving.

There's a convoy leaving in the morning
There's a convoy leaving at the break of day.
There's a convoy bringing us home.
There's a convoy leaving.

It's not long to go 'till I say "hello"
I'll be ridin' down the streets of my home town.
The day we end the war is well worth waiting for;
Like a convoy leaving.

There's a convoy leaving in the morning
There's a convoy leaving at the break of day.
There's a convoy bringing us home.
There's a convoy leaving.

by **Anowa** » Thu Nov 25, 2021 7:43 pm

ROYAL ANOWAN DISPATCH SERVICE
FROM: THE ANOWAN HOUSE OF ASTARTE
TO: EMERGENCY RESPONSE COUNCIL OF SOUTH AMERICANASTAN

I think you'll find that national administrations can change, unless you as unqualified as you claim I am in leading, it should be obvious.

And we did own the land prior to Versaille, thank you, which is another reason we elected to move our forces in to the region, because there's still a sizeable minority of Anowans in the nation you claim to represent. If you feel so strongly about it, go ahead, walk yourself in front of the General Assembly, call us out, whatever Gods you believe in will assuredly know it'll be infinitely more effective and worth your time than rallying dispatches back and forth telling each other how horrible a leader we are. It won't change what's already done however.

The razing of the FLA's bases only further adds to my point that the SADF isn't qualified to handle an insurrection of this scale, rather than offer an olive branch for negotiation and peacefully settling accords, you find yourself adamant that the only way to win is to kill, maim and burn, a method that has been found itself obsolete in matters such as these since the late renaissance. If I were to shoot your children, you wouldn't sit idly by and let me dictate what you do, what you say and who you're allowed to vote for. You'd find me and shoot me, successful or not. And then if either of us die, that chain of hate continues, to our friends, family, and so on. At the very least if you're going to do it, don't boast about it, especially not when it can be easily perceived as a kneejerk reaction to the Anowan Armed Forces' arrival.

Additionally, next time you may want to become aware of what a chain of command is, as I'm afraid I left service two years ago as an NCO, and have since not taken up directly issuing commands to individual units. There's a degree of trust and understanding that those below me on that chain understand and interpret my orders, and so on and so forth. Micromanaging an army is for dictators and idiots, I just so happen to be neither.

This will be my final dispatch in regards to this issue, as time is much better spent elsewhere on matters more important than lectures that won't get through.

Signed: Queen Lena II, House Astarte

_{Capt. Johannes "Swallow" Berthelsen}
_{24th Interceptor Squadron "Hard Liner"}
_{Zambian Airspace 12,000 Meters, en route to the newly established Anowan DMZ}
_Anowa
_{23/11/2021 - 1705 AST}

<<No need, we were already leaving.>>

One sentence was all it took for the Captain to know how this campaign would go. In one sentence, the captain, and anyone listening had been effectively told that the SADF didn't care. A lack of radio discipline, a verbose response to what was bordering on a threat, no self identification, and a complete lack of care regarding the close to 100 missiles ready to be slammed home in to their fuselages.

Cpt. Kuźni: <<Mule 1, Payload Away>>

The bomb sliding out the back of the cargo plane was it's only cargo aside from a fuck load of HESCO containers. But even then it was comparable to a bus.

The parachute slung open, and after a few thousand feet it cut, aluminium guiding fins keeping it stable as the 150 thousand pound bomb hurtled down towards the already bombed to shit base.

Looking ahead at the still painted Rhodie and Saffie targets, Captain figured they'd be out of the blast zone for sure, but they'd still feel the gut rattling shockwave since the Bucaneers were slowing them down. Twelve kilometers below, impact.

The shockwave immediately condensed the water vapour in the air in to a growing cloud that looked like an expanding ball. It disppated revealing a massive fireball, as the visible shockwave ripped up sand, dirt, and bushes all the way to them, and the leaving RhAF and SAAF craft. Even at this height, the feeling of the shockwave rattled his teeth, felt like a punch to the gut, and blurred his vision for a few seconds.

Below, the crater the size of a village had replaced the previously burning base. Ironically saving the savannah from a bush fire.

<<Good effect on target.>>

_{Sgt. Soren Valiantsson "The Beast of Erong"}
_{1st AAD, Brigade HQ Company}
_{Former POC Luau, now FOB Bran}
_Anowa
_{23/11/2021 - 1847 AST}

Soren was only vaguely thankful. Being the Brigade RTO, he didn't have to dig up HESCO barriers and trenches all day. Instead he was stuck coordinating reports from the other landing sites, figuring out what was needed and where. He'd likely be getting little sleep, but he wasn't melting, being in a pretty gutted airport terminal as he was.

So far the Landing sites that had checked in where Omega Airport (Now FOB Oxide), Dirtico Airport (Now FOB Snake Eyes), POC Lumbala (Now FOB Concord), Cozombo Airport had to be bombed and thus was simply a Firebase Girder now, being a front line area. Kalambo Airport in Zambia had been sabotaged, meaning it was a wash as well.

There was a slightly terrifying fact, however.

"Commander, Concord is reporting the same, no civvies."

The commander sighed, "Fucking idiots."

Soren had to agree to be honest, at best the evacuation had just skyrocketed distaste for the faction, it would cause problems for people trying to come back, which of course meant people were going to die. The region had a fuck load of UXOs, minefields, and other mass amounts of problems relating to civil war, the roads weren't safe everywhere, and now whole towns were going to go for God knows how long without being maintained. That didn't factor in people who would end up being belligerent at checkpoints trying to get back, or who would fuck up at bad times, etcetera. That was an after the fact problem Hell, there were still cattle milling about that the Anowans wouldn't be caring for, farms in their current state wouldn't be cared for either. The SADF had effectively just let an entire section of the country they supposedly cared so much for go to waste. Something not even the Vanquarians were stupid enough to do.

Commander Dragomir started giving order for squads to start going out and harvesting whatever cars, automobiles they could from the area. They weren't something they could let fall in to the hands of insurrectionists, and having an excess of vehicles just in case was a good idea as well. As the day dragged on, more and more cargo flights were coming in as FOB Bran was turned in to a veritable castle. the previously empty buildings had been refilled with supplies and ammo, with more flights coming in as expected. Units started heading out to set up the first batch of checkpoints in the DMZ, others were going out on patrols. For Soren, it was an easy night to sleep compared to Erong and Grunalia.

by **Dayganistan** » Fri Nov 26, 2021 1:15 pm

Soyo District HQ
It had been nearly a week since the first transport plane carrying Major General Herati and a platoon of Pathfinders landed at Soyo. In that time, more and more transport planes had been ferrying troops to Angola from Dayganistan until now his initial force had been fully deployed. The past few days he had been busy disseminating orders to units, mostly keeping them in a defensive posture around the city with a few presence patrols in the area. With his entire initial force on the ground, he could now plan much more wide ranging patrols into the countryside and possibly establish checkpoints and FOBs further away from the city.

"Sir, there's a message for you," A young woman wearing the woodland camouflage uniform of the Airborne Division and a blue UN beret said as she approached Herati's desk with a sheet of paper. The general took the message from the soldier.

"Thank you, Corporal Ghazali," the general said as he glanced over the message. It was from the Allaneans. They were aligned with the colonial administration and General Herati wasn't particularly interested in cooperation with the SAAA beyond the bare minimum. However, the Allaneans seemed to be on the more reasonable side and he felt he could work something out with them. He began typing up a message to respond with.

Greetings Mr. Vlaun.

I am merely the acting commander of UNAMA at the moment, having assumed command days ago. Anything I say in this message can and may be overruled by future commanders. However, I believe we can come to an agreement which future UNAMA commanders will likely be willing to uphold.

While UNAMA remains committed to a peaceful resolution of the conflict and a settlement which is to the agreement of all sides, we realize the importance of assisting civilians in achieving this goal. To that effect, were are willing to cooperate with Allanea. We only request that you do not deploy ground combat troops in Zaire Province, even if they are merely in a defensive posture. If you wish to assist in providing aid in the north of Angola, I recommend that you establish your camp in the neighbouring Uige Province as UNAMA only maintains a security zone along the Angola-DRC border in this province.

As for airfields which you may operate flights for aid supplies to be distributed by UN forces or for evacuation, we will allow you to operate at airfields in the following cities within the UNAMA zone:
- Soyo
- M'banza-Kongo
- Cabinda
- Muanda, DRC

I can assure you, UNAMA is more than willing to provide security to your aircraft at these airfields and will not interfere with your flights. We look forward to cooperation.

Major General Ali Reza Herati

Near Sumba, Zaire Province, Angola

An MRAP rolled down a dirt road through the jungle, the bumps and occasional sections where it was overgrown with grass showed how little use the road had seen in recent years. The vehicle carried a section of Pathfinders, as well as an Air Liaison Officer who had been attached and placed in charge for this mission.

The ALO, Captain Arpineh Simonian, was certainly in the minority in the vehicle as the only woman. A microcosm of her life as a minority Armenian Christian in both the military and the nation as a whole. Women were barred from infantry in the armed forces of Dayganistan, but could be attached to infantry units if they were part of an Air Force Tactical Air Control Party. It didn't make much sense to Captain Simonian, but it was how it was. Male troops still respected her, and still expected her to keep up with them. And she was still trained to handle herself in combat, even if her primary task was to direct air support. Today, however, she was put in charge of this operation to evaluate what appeared to be a dirt airstrip found be aerial reconnaissance approximately 25 kilometers east of Soyo. As the MRAP approached the objective area, Captain Simonian spoke on the vehicle intercom.

"I'll go over the mission one last time so we're clear. We're checking what seems to be a dirt airfield to see how suitable it is for operations or to be upgraded. Sergeant Durrani, your section is to hold security and move with me as needed."

Sergeant Durrani simply replied with an "understood," not seeing the need for many more words.

The MRAP drove through a farming compound, which the mission briefing had hoped would be in disuse. However, a few farm vehicles in decent condition were around and a couple curious civilians watched as the MRAP flying a strange green, white and black flag drove through. The MRAP then stopped at the dirt field, a few hundred meters outside of the compound and the troops dismounted. The Pathfinders established their security posture, focusing 4 men towards the farming compound and the other four towards the east, further down the road, two of which remained mounted in the vehicle in order to use the remote weapon station armed with a .50 caliber machine gun.

Captain Simonian lased the other end of the airfield with her laser rangefinder and wrote down the distance on her notepad. It was about 1000 meters, good enough to operate turboprop transport aircraft from and helicopters would certainly be no issue either. She could tell the field wasn't completely flat, but that was to be expected with a dirt strip in rural Africa. She returned to the MRAP and called Major General Herati with the long range radio.

"Sheikh, this is Shamal 1."

"Shamal 1, go for Sheikh," Herati's voice came through the radio.

"Shamal 1 reports airfield is suitable for helicopters or turboprop transport. Need combat engineers to perform some maintenance. Shamal 1 out."

by **The Selkie** » Fri Nov 26, 2021 2:02 pm

Bonargrid-Marcach, moored in Soyo, Angola.
Flynn Íchtair of the Tribe of Navan.
Radio Bonargrid had been founded in 2000.
It had been a passion project, mostly, in the beginning, running for three hours on a public frequency, sending out music to entertain, news from the Free Lands, maybe even the odd greeting from home. By now, a troupe of fifteen people operated the broadcaster aboard of our transport.
We still transmitted our programme on a public, unencrypted frequency and we still had news and greetings from home, but we had a lot of music.
I was one of the DJs, sitting in my booth, talking about things, then putting on songs, rinse and repeat.
It had been a week since the first Daygastani soldiers landed in Angola and with them, the UN-Mission had received a lot of support. Other nations were bound to follow soon, we had news from some, even.
Still, we hadn't greeted them. Sure, the odd meeting of one driving past the other notwithstanding.
Now...
"And now, for our newly arrived warriors for peace in the fashionable light blue...", I began, switching to English, "...a warm welcome to Angola, this is Radio Bonargrid for you as well. You lot might not understand a word of what I or one of my colleagues say, but music is a universal language. And speaking of which, for you, I have a special welcoming treat - Viola Macnasach of the Tribe of Sligo, from her 2021-album Warriors with dapper hats, the song..."
I pressed the play button and Viola's smooth Contralto sang out, in English: "The cat lurks for the ribbon..."
"Enjoy.", I added in the pause.

...fluttering from the beret.
It knows not yet the meaning
of the colours of the hat.

I had switched off my microphone and listened to what Viola had to sing - a cat, a beret, a ribbon fluttering from it, simple enough as the contralto sang deep, smokey. The mind might conjure up the image of a stage, of a woman in a dress standing by a grand piano and nothing but it and her voice sounding out.

Green it is for one nation's pride,
worn by men young and old, far and wide,
a small ribbon hangs off the trim,
fluttering in the wind.
Green wore this beloved child,
carried a rifle, went to fight a war,
what was the purpose of the glory-hunt?
Glory, fame and honour, peace or riches for another's hand?

Ah, yes, the old question... why did soldiers go to war? Ideas, glory, fame, honour, "to protect", for riches or for whatever else? We mercenaries had one advantage: Our answer was clear: We fought for money. We were paid to do so, to fight for someone, who was most likely not even from our country.
It was a tradition by now.

Child, you went to fight,
knowing not the cause?
Head filled with lage words
of a noble and important cause?
Reasons that you rinse and repeat,
without understanding a single word?
Poor child with your green beret,
you cursed the hand, which signed the paper,
binding you to army and to war.
Your baret is green and red,
pride is not on your mind as you are in dust
and grime and dirt far from your home's shores.

I sipped from my tea as the pianist went to town on his instrument, giving the contralto a pause and underlining the song, deep notes in salvoes of three, like a rifle being fired by a disciplined soldier (salvoes of three, lung, lung, heart) forming a basis, hectic, almost panicked was, what the other hand played, dramatic...
And then, it cut out, suddenly.
The song was not yet over, though:

And the cat, it jumps, it soars,
takes the ribbon and the barett,
from the dead soldier's head...

There was silence on the airwaves as the last tremble of Viola's voice faded.

by **Imperial Rifta** » Sat Nov 27, 2021 8:00 am

Official Telegram to South Americanastanian African Authority
From: Imperial Riftan Foreign Relations Department
——————————
To whom it may concern in SAAA,

It has come to the attention of Imperial Rifta that a war has begun in the Americanistanian territory of Angola. This reveals an opportunity for Imperial Rifta to get closer relations with South Americanistan, as well as strengthening the international relations of both our nations. An embassy between our nations opens to possibilities to both of our nations, such as trade of different goods that are unobtainable in our lands.

-The Imperial Riftan Foreign Relations Department

Pacific Ocean- 120 Miles West of Angola and 30 Kilometers North of Luanda

High General Tobias Grae overlooked the rest of the transport fleet as it glided through the water towards Angola. The soldiers on the ships were grumbling at the sudden change in weather. They had sailed all the way from Finland to Africa, and the temperature had risen drastically. As they approached the continent, they paused a short distance from the coast as the landing ships fell into the water and were loaded. As all invasion personnel reached land, the landing craft pulled away to the seas, and left. As the men lined up on the beach, Grae climbed atop a small tree, and addressed the soldiers.

“You all know why we’re here. South Americanistan is having trouble with an insurrection here, and since Parliament wants better relations, they think sending us out here to help will get the Americanistans willing to negotiate. So. We’re going to try to find a South Americanistanian base, and try to figure out a plan. Clear?”
“Understood” The soldiers chorus back.
“And all of our air support is back on the carriers, so we’re on our own. With that in mind, let’s move” orders Grae.

The soldiers load into their vehicles, and find a dirt road leading inland. The long line of vehicles follows it in hopes of running into a patrol or some type of base.

by **Hathian Prime** » Sat Nov 27, 2021 10:38 am

Silverford Point, Angola, SAA
The primary operating base of the Hathenian forces was built as swiftly and as well executed as the rest of the operation had been so far. Of course, Silverpoint was still being upgraded and modified, but it was fully functional as a FOB for the personnel stationed there. There was even a landing pad for up to 3 helicopters to land and refuel. The brush around the fort had been cut down for around 200-300 meters, just to ensure that nobody would be able to sneak up on the Hathenians.

The patrols sent from Silverpoint reported no contact with insurgents, but had reported seeing other nations operating nearby. Local towns seemed to be mildly annoyed with the Hathenian presence in their territory. So far, the deployment had been quiet. But judging from the reports from SAA, conflict would likely occur soon and at a time when the insurgents thought the Hathenians would be caught off guard.

Which was a main point of frustration for Lt Braun. The Hathenian High Command was playing defensive and setting up their supply lines as well as constructing fighting positions. Which was all well and good. But in every other operation, the armed forces would have already had their boots stomping the enemy’s throats by now. But then again, this was different. The New Republic had primarily fought insurgents in urban terrain, in tundras, or in mild temperature areas. Never before had they been to a place like this.
Lt Braun gazed in disapproval at a group of infantrymen sleeping in chairs outside their tents, rifles clutched tightly in their hands. Complacency, Braun thought, kills.

Corporal Wiesse had been moved from the turret to be a comm operator in her vic, with PFC Stohlmann taking her spot. Like most of the patrols, her convoy had yet to see any action. Today though, was more grueling than the rest. The air conditioning to the vehicle had been damaged after the driver had rear ended a supply truck. Now, every soldier in the vehicle was cooking in their own body armor. Corporal Wiesse could feel her uniform sticking to her skin and prayed that she would be able to take an
Ice cold shower once this patrol was over.

The radio crackled to life as the callused voice of the Convoy Commander gave an order “All vehicles, keep 100 meters dispersion, stagger. Do not let civilians get in between or pass the vehicles. ROE is the same as always.”

“Misfit One, reads you loud and clear.” Corporal Wiesse let out a sigh after transmitting her reponse. The roads seemed to stretch on endlessly, going off into the horizon and then some. Just 10 more miles and we turn around, she thought. Just 10 more miles.

by **Langenia** » Sat Nov 27, 2021 11:54 am

Soyo International Airport

In politics, there is no such concept as "peacekeeping" during wartime if it does not stop the fighting. But alas, that's what the Langenians were in Angola for. "Peacekeeping." The reality, however, was more sinister, and more aligned with what a country like the South American power would want from the region. Natural resources. The world ran on them, needed them, consumed them. And the Langenians were there to obtain them, masquerading as "UN peacekeepers."

Jet engines rumbled and dust was kicked up as an Il-76 transport aircraft landed on the runway at Soyo International Airport, taxiing to the airport's tarmac. It was the first of the Langenian Il-76, C-17, and T-121 flights across the Atlantic over the next few days, part of an airbridge set up by the airlift squadrons of the Langenian Air Force. Aboard the Il-76 was a company of soldiers of the National Army of Langenia's 84th "Guerqaq" Commando Brigade, a unit of the Army Special Forces Command. Also aboard were a few VMTM's, painted white with "UN" emblazoned on in big, black letters.

Colonel Simon Muñoz, the ranking Langenian officer and veteran of wars in Avalon, Afghanistan, and Iraq, stood at the rear of the aircraft as the cargo door opened, surrounded by the soldiers of the 84th armed with R-17 standard-issue assault rifles. The sun suddenly beamed down as the cargo door was fully open, and the Langenian troops got their first glimpse of the land known as Angola. Muñoz took the initiative, gesturing for the men around him to move forward into the sun. Muñoz stood there, arms crossed, taking in his surroundings, as the squad leaders inspected their squads and the men of the 84th Regiment company assembled on the tarmac.

"Men, here we are, welcome to Angola! Congratulations, we are the first Langenian servicemen to set foot on this soil! Now, a warning. We are peacekeepers for the United Nations, which means that we have rules to comply with. We're peacekeepers, in case you haven't noticed, here to keep the peace, not active belligerents affiliated with the factions of the conflict. NEVER, EVER open fire unless fired upon. Distribute humanitarian aid and protect civilians if they are attacked. Force should be used as a last resort. It should be utilized on a manner proportionate to the provocation. Maintain law and order and above all, like I said, protect civilians. Is that clear?" A loud "Yes, sir!" echoed from the soldiers.

"Good, now get to work. Unload the gear, because our pilots have to fly back to pick up more of our comrades. Get to work!" hollered the colonel, and with that, a bustle of activity began. The task done and the VMTMs and supplies removed from the Il-76, the large aircraft began to prepare for the return flight home to ferry more troops and equipment across the Atlantic. Meanwhile, the VMTM Escudos and Camiones were turned on and soldiers began to file into the vehicles, loading their supplies inside, and drove off into the streets of the city of Soyo.

UN Compound, Soyo, Angola

"We're headed to the UN compound," Colonel Muñoz briefed his officers. The compound was a hotel taken over by the UN to utilize as a headquarters, and was where the Langenians would meet up with the rest of the UN forces. Arriving at the UN headquarters, the force dismounted and removed their gear, leaving behind some of the 84th troops to act as sentries. Now it was time to announce themselves, wait as more of their comrades showed up in Soyo and other parts of Angola, and watch the show. Based on what he had heard before arriving in the country, Muñoz assumed they would have a really interesting time.

by **New Antarcticania** » Sat Nov 27, 2021 2:55 pm

Langenia wrote:Soyo International Airport

In politics, there is no such concept as "peacekeeping" during wartime if it does not stop the fighting. But alas, that's what the Langenians were in Angola for. "Peacekeeping." The reality, however, was more sinister, and more aligned with what a country like the South American power would want from the region. Natural resources. The world ran on them, needed them, consumed them. And the Langenians were there to obtain them, masquerading as "UN peacekeepers."

Jet engines rumbled and dust was kicked up as an Il-76 transport aircraft landed on the runway at Soyo International Airport, taxiing to the airport's tarmac. It was the first of the Langenian Il-76, C-17, and T-121 flights across the Atlantic over the next few days, part of an airbridge set up by the airlift squadrons of the Langenian Air Force. Aboard the Il-76 was a company of soldiers of the National Army of Langenia's 84th "Guerqaq" Commando Brigade, a unit of the Army Special Forces Command. Also aboard were a few VMTM's, painted white with "UN" emblazoned on in big, black letters.

Colonel Simon Muñoz, the ranking Langenian officer and veteran of wars in Avalon, Afghanistan, and Iraq, stood at the rear of the aircraft as the cargo door opened, surrounded by the soldiers of the 84th armed with R-17 standard-issue assault rifles. The sun suddenly beamed down as the cargo door was fully open, and the Langenian troops got their first glimpse of the land known as Angola. Muñoz took the initiative, gesturing for the men around him to move forward into the sun. Muñoz stood there, arms crossed, taking in his surroundings, as the squad leaders inspected their squads and the men of the 84th Regiment company assembled on the tarmac.

"Men, here we are, welcome to Angola! Congratulations, we are the first Langenian servicemen to set foot on this soil! Now, a warning. We are peacekeepers for the United Nations, which means that we have rules to comply with. We're peacekeepers, in case you haven't noticed, here to keep the peace, not active belligerents affiliated with the factions of the conflict. NEVER, EVER open fire unless fired upon. Distribute humanitarian aid and protect civilians if they are attacked. Force should be used as a last resort. It should be utilized on a manner proportionate to the provocation. Maintain law and order and above all, like I said, protect civilians. Is that clear?" A loud "Yes, sir!" echoed from the soldiers.

"Good, now get to work. Unload the gear, because our pilots have to fly back to pick up more of our comrades. Get to work!" hollered the colonel, and with that, a bustle of activity began. The task done and the VMTMs and supplies removed from the Il-76, the large aircraft began to prepare for the return flight home to ferry more troops and equipment across the Atlantic. Meanwhile, the VMTM Escudos and Camiones were turned on and soldiers began to file into the vehicles, loading their supplies inside, and drove off into the streets of the city of Soyo.

UN Compound, Soyo, Angola

"We're headed to the UN compound," Colonel Muñoz briefed his officers. The compound was a hotel taken over by the UN to utilize as a headquarters, and was where the Langenians would meet up with the rest of the UN forces. Arriving at the UN headquarters, the force dismounted and removed their gear, leaving behind some of the 84th troops to act as sentries. Now it was time to announce themselves, wait as more of their comrades showed up in Soyo and other parts of Angola, and watch the show. Based on what he had heard before arriving in the country, Muñoz assumed they would have a really interesting time.

Intresting time, they will have.

Task force "Demeter"
Approaching Soyo Int'l airport
A guitar and a harmonica, which its owner "convinced" his commissar to allow him to cram it aboard the IL-76 last-minute. And now, with the aircraft on final approach, an (Ill advised) Performance before they land.
"На войне, как на войне
Патроны, водка, махорка в цене
А на войне нелегкий труд
А сам стреляй, а то убьют

А на войне, как на войне
Подруга, вспомни обо мне
А на войне неровен час
А может мы, а может нас....."
Before the Sharfaristan civil war, the Italian campaign, and many other conflicts that the antartics have steepted themselves into, there was always an element of fear in the chain of command, a fear that the Soldier may bear stains of western culture when he returns home from campaign, thus - all outside music was effectively banned in the military, with propaganda posters lined around bulletin boards instructing personnel to do so. The most infamous one being an Antarctic commissar pointing a Tokarev pistol at a Assumed pop star remarkedably similar to Justin bieber, Red text emblazoned on the bottom;
"DEATH TO THE CAPITALIST PROPOGANDA ICONS!"
Such regulations were carried out to the letter at commissars, with "blind executions" being held every weekend at Military instillations when discs, drives, or any other data storage device have been found with such articles of music from the Capitalist propaganda icons.

Such regulations were made redundant to music from more friendly nations post-Reforms - nations such as Belarus, the Russian Federation, The peoples republic of China, Cuba, Syria, And the Socialist State of Sharfaristan. And that's where were at today, a soldier singing a song often tied to the Second Chechnyan war.

"...Огонь, батарея, огонь, батальон
Огонь, батарея, огонь, батальон
Огонь, батарея, огонь, батальон
Огонь, батарея, огонь, огонь, огонь агония

А на войне, как на войне
На войне, как на войне
На войне, как на войне
На войне, как на войне."

The plane lands, bearing the roundel of the Antartican air force, it does not have the "UN" emblazoned on it. It does, however - bear the rod of Asclepius, quite large and painted in navy blue. Perhaps this was the Antarcticans' way to show that it was a neutral force, perhaps not. Either way, they're here, clearly visible for the other forces present.

by **Mervay** » Sun Nov 28, 2021 10:32 pm

Royal Ministry of Foreign Affairs of The Kingdom of Mervay
Ministère royal des Affaires Étrangères du Royaume de Mervay
Ministero Reale Degli Affari Esteri del Regno di Mervay

In the name of Her Majesty's Goverment, The Kingdom of Mervay finds itself dismayed by the current situation in the territories of the South Americanastanian African Authority, with exclusive and special regards in the territories of eastern and northern Angola where insurgent activity is concerning. All travel to the SAAA will be restricted until the situation is stabilized in the affected regions.

The government of the Kingdom of Mervay firmly believes that the prosperity of the region depends in the stability of it, that is why with Parliamentary Support and Her Majesty's Blessing, we are requesting to the South Americanastanian African Authority and it's central government of South Americanastan to allow the presence of Mervayan Forces with the mission of aiding in humanitarian efforts in regions that do not have UN Presence and to ensure the maintainance of the stability of the region alongside any evacuation of international citizens in the region.

It is hoped that in any case, a solution will be found and that it will be through negotiation between all factions if possible in order to ensure the stability of the region is not shattered and that the people can live in peace after years of conflict.

Signed by
- Her Most Royal Majesty of Mervay and Queen of The Mervayans, Callista IV
- Her Majesty's Premier Executive, Edward Vianna
- Her Majesty's Chancellor, Jessica Dileva

ANGOLAN BUSH WAR|IC|SEMI-CLOSED|MT

ANGOLAN BUSH WAR|IC|SEMI-CLOSED|MT

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