NationStates Jolt Archive

It had begun…

Erich Lichtman sat quietly in the outdoor café on Wechsler Street. He sipped his cup of coffee as he glanced over two newspapers, one in German, the other in Russian (The two primary languages of Buechoria). Something caught his eye in the German newspaper; a politician, Albrecht Mehlinger had risen to the leader of the Communist Party. Most people ignored communism and stuck with socialism, the system of government in Buechoria. The Communist Party did not want to stick with socialism, they wanted to take the next step and create the “perfect” government.

Little did Erich, the man and woman next to him, the family walking the park a block over, and everyone else in the country know that today was the day the Communist Party decided they should put their beliefs into action.

The thin man had brown hair, a bushy moustache and was wearing a simple blue suit. With him, he carried a bag and bullhorn which he threw onto the top of a nearby car. He proceeded to crawl up onto the roof as well and raised the bullhorn to his lips, yelling into it, “People of Buechoria, the government has oppressed you too long! Socialism is a weak and corrupted system doomed to fail, and only communism will save us!”

With that, he removed an automatic rifle, an AK-74 to be exact, and shot an entire magazine into the air. People trembled as hundreds of soldiers dashed out of a nearby warehouse armed with everything from bolt-action rifles to .50 Caliber machine guns.

“Sir, we must get out of the building, it is da- AUGH!” the aide collapsed to the ground as several bullets shattered a window and dug into his chest. Guards ran around the Bundestag, shooting at insurgents and evacuating citizens. Soon, though, they were overwhelmed as the mob proceeded through the hallways and finally reached the door of the Prime Minister. Feet kicked at it, breaking it into thousands of splinters of wood. Prime Minister Rechnitz stood behind his desk, in his hands a PKM machine gun. “Eat lead you commie bastards!” he barked as he unleashed bullet upon bullet at the revolutionaries. Rechnitz remained calm (yet angry) as he continued to shoot and run to a door that led to an emergency vehicle. He opened the door and climbed into the waiting truck.

The vehicle drove off, a guard shooting through the sunroof at quickly disappearing enemies. The Prime Minister knew he was safe, but he knew for a fact his people would not be.

OOC: End part 1. I love the part with ym Prime Minister being Rambo. This is open, but please refrain from posting anything other than OOC posts until I finish the backround, if you are interested. This is also slightly intended to be long run (But definately not permanent). You know how cool evil communist nations are, right?

OOC- Looks like I have to get involved, remember the 80,000 troops of mine I've got all over your country? Hehe... Bad part is I don't know who the hell I'm gonna assist. Unless I feel like setting up a puppet government... Haha, that's it.

I wonder if Belem still has that base in Buechoria?

In other words, this has been a tag.

A limousine with the flag of Kaiser Martens had been going through the city just at the moment, escorted only by a motorbike with sidecar, with two 45-type Reichswehr soldiers.
"What the HELL is going on here?" Ambassador Streiner said.
The two soldiers outside looked about and saw the shots, and the one in the sidecar armed the machinegun mounted onto it, armour piercing bullets.

The driver and co-pilot operated a few buttons, just in case getting things ready, and then Streiner ordered to head for the embassy, 40 blocks away.
He talked through visor-phone to someone in the Bundestag.
"WHAT? Communists?"
"Yes, it is adviced that you kindly go back into your Embassy, sir, they seem rather well armed"
"Certainly......"
Some shots are heard in the background. "Now I must go, Ambassador" he ended the communication without giving time for him to respond.
"Driver, to the embassy, FAST." The motorbike with the soldiers moved to the front to lead.

Would they make it to the embassy just so easily, without meeting communist forces? Would this trigger an international conflict? Noone yet knows.

Buechoria was in fear. Revolutionaries were everywhere, almost all identical: Khaki pants, khaki shirt, and a red armband around the bicep. Those that were in the parliament guarded every single man and woman in the building, awaiting orders to take them prisoner or kill them.

The leader of the revolution, Albrecht Mehlinger, marched into the parliament building wearing a clean, wrinkle-free suit with two bodyguards following him closely. The soldiers saluted as he walked into the parliament itself, where the politicians that had once decided the fates of the citizens of a country were standing, powerless and afraid.

“Gentlemen, I’m afraid Buechoria and the growing Soviet Bloc no longer require you.” he said with a grin. An officer walked over and saluted to Albrecht, then nodded at his soldiers. “Kill them. All of them, spare no one.” He ordered them as he walked out of the room.

As Albrecht walked out of the building and to his car, he could hear screams drowned out by gunfire. He smiled as he calmly took out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Chlevenkov, here.” Replied the leader of Soviet Bloc, Boris Chlevenkov. “It’s Albrecht. The plan has been carried out, and the country is yours.” Albrecht closed his phone and got into the car to be carried to a building somewhere away from the city.

OOC: After some talking with Soviet Bloc, we decided it would be more fun if he set up a puppet government or something. You now have permission to attempt to defend freedom, or do whatever, but it’d be nice if he could set up the government, lol.

Chlevenkov grinned, "Beautiful... I've already contacted Cheif Marshal Vladimir Kushnetsov. Him and his infantry division will be moving into the capital. We need the status of the Buechorian military, whether they're accepting the new rule or not." He waited for a reply...


--------

Meanwhile, in Buechoria...


Cheif Marshal Vladimir Kushnetsov sat within the nicely armored confines of his MMPWV CV-05 Command Vehicle as the Buechorian capital of Vogelsang came into view... "Beautiful. Chlevenkov's a better leader than I thought although it took him awhile to realize that we basically own this country. I've been waiting for this day." He turned to face the driver, a lieutenant, "Say, lieutenant, you hear who the new leader's gonna be?"

The lieutenant shook his head, "Not really, I know who the leader of the revolution was though, some guy named Albrecht... Albrecht Mehlinger." The lieutenant took an offramp towards the Buechorian capital, following six SV-90 infantry fighting vehicles in front of him. Another eighteen SIV-21s were behind him along with a large portion of the 24th Armored Combat Regiment, a mainstay in the Buechorian theatre of operations.

Vladimir nodded, "I suppose I'll have to meet with this Albrecht. What did Chevy say, that they were at the Bundestag?" He watched a Buechorian in a car veer off the road to avoid the line of Soviet Bloc army vehicles as they poured into the suburbs of Vogelsang.

Within minutes, the force had spread through-out the capital and a group of some three-hundred ARSB mechanized infantry and three dozen OMON Black Berets along with the Cheif Marshal and his entourage stopped near the capitol building, the Bundestag. As a dozen OMON Black Berets secured the area, four HVC-03 transport helicopters dropped off some twenty SpetsNaz special forces atop nearby buildings, most were MANPAD and sniper rifle armed. Another two hundred ARSB infantry were dropped off on other nearby buildings by HVC-03s to flush them out. Anyone not cooperating would be promptly shot.

Captain Viktor Rusnetovich of the OMONIA walked to the door of the CV-05, and opened the door, standing firmly to the side, his RSR-39SF strapped to his chest. The Cheif Marshal nodded and pulled himself from the vehicle. Four Black Berets, wearing their solid black VEPR S2 LSS suits surrounded him and escorted him into the Bundestag building along with two dozen infantry, who moved in first.

Cheif Marshal Vladimir nodded to a communist revolutionary, "You did a good job, comrade... Where is Albrecht?"

The revolutionary gave him an answer and the Cheif Marshal complied heading towards the area where Albrecht was, he almost couldn't wait to meet the next leader of Buechoria.

[OOC: I find it amazing that your police and military are so inept that your leader had to get involved. Perhaps its the fault of your obvious left-leaning leadership. ;) Regardless, I await the outcome of this roleplaying event.]

OOC: Thousands of revolutionaries armed with automatic weapons vs. a handful of police... Who wins? I'm having the military storm into the capital, next post.

The Offices of the Proletarian Republican Palace, Proletarian Prime, The Socialist Citizen's Republic of Proletarian Revolution

Citizen President Malos looked with dismay at the situation in Buechoria, his briefing papers delivered to him by his revolutionary operatives inside the Buechorian capital.

"These Buechorian Communists are traitors, sell-outs, amateurs! Nothing more than puppets for Soviet Bloc who are also traitors, sell-outs and amateurs! What a world we live in!"

Facing the bookshelf, appearing to look at the pages of Karl Marx's 'Das Capital' but in reality being engrossed in deep thought regarding present matters stood the sly and cunning Citizen Lensing, head of the Proletarian Revolutionary Foriegn Action Forces and a close friend of Citizen President Malos. He spoke, his voice full of mischief.

"And yet, what is most interesting is that they have not noticed our presence within their country. They have been far too embroiled in revolution and their 'socialist' government ran the country into the ground. Perhaps the time has come for us to advance the aims of Proletarianism into Buechoria."

Malos was hardly surprised.

"That was just as I was about to suggest myself, what chance do these amateurs stand against the might of the Proletarian Revolution."

But Lensing advanced his thought, he was no sycophant and was not afraid to put forward his view. He probably thought that Malos was happy to recieve unbiased advice.

"Not nearly anything so open, Citizen! I would advise caution, stealth, subterfuge and precision. We must incite the people into revolt against the new government, we must simply persuade them that these particular Communists are hateful and destructive and the vanguard of Soviet Bloc's invasion. I am sure that we can appeal to the patriotism of the Buechorian people!"

Lensing reached for a whisky glass and poured himself a drink. He continued...

"Then, when all is chaotic and frightful. When Buechoria's need is dire and all hope for the citizens appears lost, we will send in the Proletarian Revolutionary Armed Forces to liberate Buechoria. We shall establish a new order in the country, one that will be popular with the masses."

Citizen Malos interrupted...

"Won't they be able to retaliate in exactly the same manner as we intervened?"

"No, we unlike they, are masters of manipulation.
In addition, unlike the current puppet communist government, our proletarian government once installed is free to implement whatever changes they like on the country so long as they are in line with us ideologically. They will be soveriegn in all things, even foriegn policy. We need not worry since they will likely ask us for aid, anyway!"

Citizen Malos was pleased. The advice was sound.

"You may begin, Lensing. Proceed at your own discretion."

Malos smirked.

"Hmph! Those fools will not know what hit them!"

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=379105

This thread may give you more of an insight into Proletarianism which is simply revised Marxist theory...

The five BMP-3's rolled quietly into Vogelsang, on top of each numerous soldiers dressed in urban camo and equipped with G-3A3 automatic rifles. The BMPs slowed in front of the capitol. It was silent, most of the revolutionaries were inside drinking and eating.

"We missed the convoy. Shit." The officer said to himself as he gazed at the giant structure. "A shame. Well, we can still do some damage. Follow me!" The officer barked as he jumped off of the vehicle and observed his soldiers do so as well. The group of aout fifty ran up to the thre giant doors and placed C2 explosives on each one. With loud pops, the door opened in a flash of light. The halls fell silent as the revolutionaries reached for their weapons, but it was to late.

"GO GO GO!" Screamed the officers as the soldiers dashed in and shot mercilessly, killing hundreds in only a few moments. casulities were limited to only afew, but they were to late to get the man they were after: Albrecht.
Little did they know, Albrecht was only a few miles away in a small cottage, reading a book by a fireplace and sipping a fine champagne.

9 PM, THAT NIGHT

"It's your turn, Alexei!" Yelled a soldier. Another who was eating some rations nodded and picked up his weapon. He strolled quietly over to the gate of Fort Rosenthal and nodded at the passing guard who took Alexei's place by a fire. Vehicles were being prepped for departure in the morning to combat the guerilla force, and everyone in the base was busy. Too busy to notice the plastic explosive under the tarmac of the tanks, trucks and planes and the C4 sitting in the boiler room of the headquarters and barracks.

Loud explosions echoed over the country side at exactly 9:30. The other bases in Buechoria had been rigged. They blew up with a brilliant display of flames and bodies flying like wrappers caught int he wind. The soldiers at Rosenthal ran and screamed but their base as well was destroyed. Buechoria was being disabled from the inside, and the plot thickened. The Kriegarmee was almost nonexistant now, and Buechoria had just begun to wage war against itself.

Citizen Colonel Tavis and five of his Proletarian Elite Guard soldiers, all dressed in local dress, dropped out by parachute of the 'Silent-Revolution' Class Stealth Transport Plane. This new plane, a more simplistic design than the B2 Stealth bomber, could easily penetrate normal radar defences but unfortunately was barely detectable via infrared. Fortunately for the revolutionary operations, most of the military bases within Buechoria had been destroyed by the Communists.

Tavis and his men landed foot-first just outside the Buechorian capital and their mission was simple; to aid in terrorist resistance actions against the occupation and the puppet communist government, to aid in all endeavors that will lead to the overthrow of the government, to ensure that dormant Buechorian Proletarianist operatives survive and seize control of the country and if possible to assassinate Albrecht Mehlinger.

They took what weapons they had and concealed them about their persons; those who would resist them should be prepared for death. They began their mile trek into the city....

A warning signal went off within the radar station at Fort Buccholz, one of the larger ARSB military installations within the nation, and the cheif operating center of the East Buechorian Radar Network. A half-asleep technical sergeant shouted, "CONTACT. Bearing 115 degrees at 89 miles!"

The cheif officer on station that night, a young captain, roared to life, "What?! How the hell could it get that close?"

The tech sergeant shrugged, glaring at the screen, "Its a faint signal. Just one. Its nearly flying over Station E-N3 so its signal is bound to get bigger."

The captain coughed, "You sure its an aircraft?"

The tech sergeant gave an affirmative nod, "I don't think a bird moves quite that fast. And we haven't received any radio identifications and the Buechorian flight schedule lists no activity for this region at this time of night. Nearest flight is in two hours and that'll pass close to Station E-N1 which is, what? One hundred and fifty miles away?"


"Dammit, Rentukov will have my head for this, alert the air base and tell them to get fighters in the air now." The captain barked, leaving his seat and heading to a nearby computer. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the network in that area, there were no stationary air defenses that could reach a target at the altitude of the contact.


Nearby F-57C Molniya air superiority fighters were scrambled, but by the time they had gotten airborne, the lone stealth aircraft had disappeared from radar, for it had entered that sweet spot in the radar network where a stealth aircraft could escape (where radar signals were weakest). And by the time they had gotten to the area of the contact, the stealth aircraft had left the waters of Buechoria. This had been a sore penetration of Soviet Bloc's defense of the island. However, the defense system was in place to work alongside Buechoria's own, which had been neglected lately due to the revolution.



OOC- I figured I'd better let ya through.

At the outer edge of the Earth's electromagnetic influence, a small hunk of assorted metals - including mercury and carbon - slowly falls in towards the Earth in an unusual way. For it is propelled by weak magnetic interaction; here, the satelite combining strength with the Earth is not powerful enough to maintain its position. Thus, it drags inwards slowly. With no thrusters, it will inevitably fall so far in - and then be within the 'sweet spot' again, capable of repositioning itself. It is not a MISAT, but is a deeper observation unit, referred to as a SOTROS (Stellar Observation/Tactical Readiness System).

From extreme range, it turns its mercury-mirror-and-lens observation telescope groundwards towards Beuchoria, a silent observer in the distant dark.

OOC- I figured I'd better let ya through.

OOC - Most obliged....

IC - Tavis and his accomplices knocked at the door of a farmhouse about a miles north of the main suburbs of the Buechorian capital.
Tavis had came to the conclusion that it was unwise to proceed any further without sufficient rest, food and transportation so he had hoped that this old farmhouse would contain all the necessities he required.
The door opened. An old Buechorian man in his late 70's had answered.
Tavis introduced himself in German.

"Greeting Citizen friend, I am sorry to inconvenience you at this time but I must relieve you of your home. My name is Colonel Tavis by the way, and you are about to perform a great service for the proletarian revolution."

The old man stood there in puzzlement, either genuinely or because he was senile.
Tavis pulled out a silencer pistol and shot the old man in the head, he fell to the ground, lifeless.
Speech came from the living room.

"Albert? Who is that at the door? Is everything alright?"

A figure, female and quite elderly came out into the hall and was immediately shot by Tavis with a second accurate shot to the head.
Tavis spoke over the two bodies.

"Once again, my apologies..."

He gestured to his friends to remove the bodies.
The group spent the night at the house.

It was barely morning as Erich drove his tiny car slowly along the quiet dirt road, towards the same farmhouse Tavis and his squad had decided to accomodate.

"I bet they haven't even heard of the revolution," Erich mumbled to himself as he pulled into the muddy driveway on the right side of the plaster house. "I hate going out here, especially to warn them about somehting as stupid as this." He turned the key and listened to the car putter a bit, then fall silent. He got out and approached the front door and was about to knock, but hesitated.

"They're probably asleep now, it's," Erich gazed at his watch, "Whoa, five in the morning!" He removed his keys from his pocket and opened the door quietly and walked in, heading towards the bedroom. Suddenly, to his suprise, the alarm clock went off loudly, and he heard people stirring - People who were not his parents. He quickly removed the tiny revolver he had hiding in his could pocket and cocked it, ready for whoever was in the house.

OOC: In Buechoria, people may carry concealed weapons (With a permit, of course. And in a sudden plot twist, they are, er, were his parents).

Click.
It rang in Tavis's ears.

"Did you hear that?"

The other men laughed. Gunter, the tall blondish twenty-three year old infiltrator taunted his commander.

"Tavis, calm yourself. Your getting paranoid in your old age!"

Tavis was only forty-two and a veteran of many insurgency campaigns.

"Must be my imagination."

With one hand, he took a sip from his mug of Buechorian beer. With the other hand, under the table, he readied his gun...