NationStates Jolt Archive

The Guffingfordian foreign office wasn't very keen on being surrounded by potential enemies. True, the nation Hogsweat virtually all its power and potency in that devastating explosion many years ago, but still. It was known Yorkania had became a liability instead of an asset, and a possible sale of the piece of land was likely. The land itself wasn't very fertile, but because of its strategic position - and it has an excellent natural harbour - this is an oppertunity Guffingford cannot allow to pass.

Yorkania would give Guffingford just a little extra elbow space to move around, and every form of expansion is good. Guffingford needs colonies, people chant more often. Overseas colonies, distant lands who obey the rulers at home. A colonial office, flags, honour. It sounds very attractive. Yorkania borders Guffingford, but that doesn't matter. From there it's only one step to other more distant regions on the globe. Colonies are usually obtained by conquest. It's a shame this time money does the talking instead of guns and cannon.Communiqué to Hogsweat
From: Corpse Diplomatiqué, The Hanseatic League of Guffingford
To: The People's Republic of Hogsweat

Esteemed reader,

First of all, greetings to you. Let's come to business at once, we have heard of your economic situation and we would like you to offer some relief. Many decades ago your former government purchased the piece of land you and I know as 'Yorkania'. Over the years the decay of this colony is evident, and we are more than willing to buy it from you.

We await your reply with patience.

Yours truly,
Mr. Grant Andonev
Foreign Office Representative.

~GOVERNMENT MESSAGE~
http://img416.imageshack.us/img416/25/flaghogsweatia2jv.png
From: Chancellor of the Hogsweatian Democratic Republic, Maria Tenishkova (http://img216.imageshack.us/img216/120/tenishkova6fr.png)
To: Corpse Diplomatiqué, The Hanseatic League of Guffingford
Re: Apologies

Greetings,
Your suggestion for us to sell the Republic of Yorkania is a tempting one; but for the time being, we shall have to decline. Our Soviet brethren in Yorkania have decided that it is best that the Republic stays in their hands.

We apologise for any distress this may cause you, but Yorkania is a valid asset for us and we would rather it does not fall into incapab-sorry, incompatible hands.

We suggest that you do not attempt to take it by force; we may be weakened, but we are not idiots. Any attempt at taking Yorkania by force will be fiercly repulsed.

Thank you,
Long Live the Hive!

MESSAGE END

Yorkania Capital City Yorkov, Defence Administration
"Alright, what do we have to bring to bear?" Colonel Farsalov asked.

His orderly responded by listing the military defences.
"Two infantry brigades.. one with pioneers, one with scouts, the 33rd and 34th respectively.. an armour brigade, two companies of Challenger IIIs and one of artillery, MRLS I believe, the 18th Armoured... two squadrons of light fighters, I think, MiG 29s, six An-224s, and eight corvettes. We also have eight 300mm batteries and missile emplacements, off Kharakovsky Ridge."

"Alright. What do we have for reserves?" the Colonel inquired.

"Three armoured brigades.. each with three companies of Challenger IIIs, and six infantry brigades, no pioneers, no scouts."

"Right. Mobilise it all.. pull our frontline infantry across this line, backed up with the reserve armour here, the regular armour here..wait, one company over there, and artillery off this line. Pull militia into their respective units."

"Yessir!" the orderly scurried away to carry out his orders. Farsalov looked outside into the city. The giant statue of Josef Dorsal next to Yakov Yorkanov, with four flags flapping outside in the mad wind against the backdrop of a busy city made the Colonel feel angry. How could they demand this territory for mere money! If they dared to invade, he would show them the might of the Red Army. There would be no surrender. If it came to the worst, he would detonate the weapon. He would not let this beautiful city fall into fascist Guffingfordi hands.

Suid Oos Amsterdam
Garrison 505

"Sir, the Hogsweatians aren't very keen on giving up, their presumably, last colony." The cadet saluted senior officer John Clapp in his small but cozy chamber in the officer's barracks. This was the last garrison before the border, and reports came in about Hogsweatian mobilization.

"I heard about it. We better do the same thing, God knows what kind of silly tricks they have up their sleeves. The governor of Rooi-Nassau already ratified a petition by several worried citizens for a heighted state of awareness." The officer leaned back and yawned loudly. He laid down a book he was reading, 'Memoirs of a Foxhunting Man', and began staring into the fireplace. There was only one dim electrical light, flickering now and then.

"Yes sir..." The cadet didn't knew what there was left to say to the officer, so he quietly left the room. The officer looked at the small flames in the fireplace, and looked around him. Small, narrow. Wet and moist. If he could deliver victory to the government in Hoogenbosch, then he'd no longer have to be here. Governor sounds good. Ambassador too. Promotion. Getting out of this place, and take a seat in one of the former Hogsweatian colonial buildings. Clapp always loved colonial architecture, and earning a place inside those halls is just too tempting for him. Before he went to bed, he made a decision.

One day later...

"Hear! Hear! Officer J. Clapp of garrison five-zero-five has a public announcement: all reservists and servicemen from the People's Militia stationed here are ordered to be mobilized at once. The Hogsweatian colony Yorkania poses a direct threat to Guffingfordian stability, and must be dealt with before offensive action can be taken on their part. We thank you for your cooperation." Not a surprise considering Clapp's thoughts yesterday evening. Still busy thinking what the best strategy is, Clapp forgot one thing: the fiat of the president.

A mobilization isn't a regular military drill, it is a preperation for armed conflict. Therefore it musn't be used for petty riots, small scale conflicts and the like. This was said a long time ago to Clapp when he was promoted to lowest officer rank in the Guffingfordian army. He wasn't even allowed to declare a state of mobilization, but it was said to him. Everybody needs to know it, ignorance is never an excuse. Still, Clapp mobilized and now he had to await the reactions. In the parliament people knew about the Hogsweatian 'threat', but are slow to act upon it. Maybe this delivers a final push. One can only hope.

The Daily Telegraph

Mobilization in Southern Rooi-Nassau approved by parliament - enlistment begins - protest marches against Hogsweatian socialism in various southern cities and towns.

Suid Oos Amsterdam, our reporter ~ As of today, the govering body of Guffingford has decreed that the mobilization in the southern sectors of Rooi-Nassau are legal and may continue. After careful study of the constitution a dedicated council of judges and DA's came to the conclusion it is in no way illegal or unconstitutional. This clears the way for more calls for mobilization all across the southern sectors near or bordering Yorkania.

Many unemployed citizens and workers who lost their jobs are now waiting in line to enlist in the People's Militia or the regular military forces. The pay's good, food's good and better places to stay are often heard arguments in favor of enlistment. There are also several anti-war demonstrators, but after complaints from locals, they were chastised and forbidden to excercise their right to protest any further. The numbers of the servicemen are growing, but equipment is still lacking. Decent anti-tank weapons are not present, nor are any real artillery brigades. Officer John Clapp on this: "Of course many people say this needs to be done, and that too. But they forget to look at the positive side, we have many men willing to die for their country. Isn't that a great thing? In case it ever comes to an attack, I am sure we will have the proper vehicles, anti-aircraft batteries and whatever we might need."

In other news, related to this many factory workers, clerks, firemen and City Watch agents have taken a day off to protest against Hogsweat and their idea of socialism. Even some members of the Left Alliance Workers, an open and quite often supportive political party to communism and socialism, have nothing but disdain for Hogsweat. "Their idea's on socialism are wrong, and move too much to Stalinism in our opinion" says Ivan Potgietersdrif, chairman and leader of the Left Alliance Workers.

OOC:
Doesn't matter! This is a little bit of character RP, to introduce one soldier I'm gonna follow during the battle(s).

IC:
Near Suid Oost Amsterdam

"I want beer damnit!" the screams of the saddest fill the dry sky of the night, and the rain of last months has ceased. In only a short week, the drought has returned to the south. Only the toughest vegetation lives, and towers of dust sweep through cities. Thumbleweed rolls by, a hot wind coming from the north-east blows through the empty streets. Desolate and abandoned, cast away from civilization.

"Charles, you had enough okay? I'm not gonna take any more of your fake paper money." Sharkfaced Pete, the barowner and tender was growing tired of Charles Guillespeak drinking habit. It was more of a habit, it was an obsession, an addiction. An addictive obsession, an obsessed adiction. That's how he likes to put it. Playing with words never bores Charles, but Charles doesn't have much of choice at the moment. The time of fun, games and playing is over. All unemployed 'bums, streetscum and other scoundrels' must enlist or face punishment. Dodging the rules of the law's part of the big game, but thise time escape of cheating are hard. So hard in fact, Charles almost forgot he wanted to attempt trying.

"I have to enlist Pete! I have to" he said, looking up, to the ceiling.

"Do you have a problem with enlisting", Pete asked. He didn't care, as long as Charles was gone, he was one happy man.

"Well, not really. I just don't want to risk dying." A tad of sadness was creeping into his tone, but Pete acted like he did not hear it, although it was quite obvious.

"You see Charley, it's very simple. There are always nutcases who love to give their lives for the cause. If they die, their crippled mother gets a Military Cross o' Honor and some flowers. Maybe even a cheap pocket watch. Hell, I reckon you ain't one of them."

"You're right there Pete, but I still don't like to risk dying. If I don't sign up tomorrow in that horrid little office of the People's Militia, they'll take me to prison."

"Like you've never seen a prison from the inside --" Pete wanted to add more, but Charles didn't listen anymore. Rethinking what he just said, and adding some of his own thoughts.

"Well Pete," he said ten minutes later "I don't object to joining the military. I just want to know if there's some good merchandise to find. Truth Media keeps telling how poor and pathetic those socialists are, but I have my doubts."

"You have?" Pete sneered.

"Oh yes of course!" Charles replied cheerfully. "I can't wait till I see what's over there, perhaps I can convince some of my pals to go with me."

"You do that" Pete said, and went off to do the dishes.

Military Might and blatant threats

Today, reports came through via a concerned government offical that the nation of Guffingford has begun mobalization of military assets after half-hearted efforts by the state to lay claim to Yorkania, one of the few remaining alcoves to the nation-state of Hogsweat.

This move came barely days after the half-hearted attempt by the nation to purchase the land, the mobilization of military units shows a blatant disregard for the soverignty of this alcove, it is beleived that Guffingford government is only intrested in fertalizing the land with blood, rather than offering economic aid. This blatant disregard of soverignty has alarmed Midlonian officals and it is rumoured that emergency commincations and the re-establishment of relations with the people of Hogsweatia, the nationstates sucessor, are to begin in earnest, will this be solved by sword or by pen? I can only speculate, but I fear for the worst as the precious hours tick slowly away. ~Paxman

The paper rustled as the hand flicked out from under the cover of the paper and groped a couple of times at a large glass, which sloshed slightly with port.

Hillcrest pulled the glass to his lips and hummed. He had indeed been informed to re-establish commications with the state, in its much changed situation, however it had not been an emergency, nor had it been really that much of a top priority. This was the fith article he had read on the matter, and they all called for intervention of some kind even if it was only sending a plate of sandwhiches to the Hive-people.

He pondered his course of action before picking up a data-slate and began to scrawl out a hasty message.


To: Offical Representative to the Democratic Republic of Hogsweatia.
From: MEFO

It has recently been brought to our attenion that relations between out two states have been rather lax for a long period of time, we wish for the re-establishment of closer ties, and perhaps to discuss the matters over the crisis in Yorkania currently gripping both of our states attention. Discussions over economic terms between our states could be carried out better in person, however, the further destabalisation of what remains of the Hogsweattian state, specifically that of Yorkania is a more prominent and concerning matter, perhaps emergency talks over aiding the Democratic Republic in the defence of its soverignty could be established between our respective Foreign Ministers?

We await with hope.

Midlonian Economic and Diplomatic Corps, Greater Kingdom of Midlonia.

God Save the King.

Defence Line Suvorov, 3.43 KM west of Checkpoint: Foxtrot 4:22 AM
He was so proud! Reserve Lieutenant Malekovsky had been awarded command of a small platoon of Militiamen on the frontline earlier, and to celebrate he was cracking open his sixth bottle of Vodka and drinking himself silly with his men. His platoon of twenty two men was one of many, forming the 32,000 strong Defence Line Suvorov, the first line of defence against the fascist pigs. Despite lack of decent equipment, his men were ready and emplaced. A small hill overlooking the border was their HQ, and three trench lines manned by machine guns, RPGs, and sandbags made up the defences. On the top of the HQ sat the pride of the defence of this location; a 51mm mortar with two dozen shells. In addition to this, Malekovsky could also call down limited artillery support from a battery of heavy guns to his immediate rear. Malekovsky cradled his rifle (http://www.world.guns.ru/rifle/rfl01-e.htm), singing away with his soldiers. Although they were determined, the Reserves were untrained and unprepared for a brutal Guffingfordian attack. The sad thing was, the same was happening down the rest of the line. It would indeed be a sorry tale if an assault did come.

Defence Line: Zhukov
The second line of defence was far more prepared. Along the best suitable positions, lines of regular infantrymen had secured the position as best they could. They were suppored by nearby aircover, mobile anti air, and squadrons of dug-in armour. The men here were ready - they had proper lines of counterattack, advanced communications, armour, artillery, and air support, and most importantly, they were cautious.

City of Skunkov
The sirens wailed as Tanya Ulyska, in her brown coat and Home Guard helmet dashed to the nearby shelter, her two small children in her hands. The youngest, Tavoyka, was a six year old whos father was on the frontline. Ivan was only a year older than her, and no more sensible. As they ran to the ceramite bunker, the two children nagged and nagged their mother. "Mummy, I want to go back to bed! Mummy, will there be school tommorow? Mummy, when is Daddy coming back? Will there be bombs tonight?" She hushed them quietly and finally reached the shelter. A commissar stood in the doorway, his size exaggerated by the strobing shadows. She held her children back, shivering in the cold.

"Comrade Commissar, please take care of my children! I have to man my post" she pleaded.

The Commissar looked back, almost sympathetic. A family with both parents in the military was dangerous. "Of course, Comrade." he smiled. "They'll be ready for you when you return."

"Thank you, Comrade." she said, leaning over to the two confused children. "Take care of your sister Ivan. Be brave, like your father." she kissed him softly on the cheek. "Tavoyka, don't cause any trouble for your brother or our Comrade. Be good, the both of you." she smiled, and hugged her children, who hugged her tightly back. She left the shelter and wiped a tear from her eye. Every night. Every night they had been awoken at random times in the morning, shoved out to man defences or huddled into bunkers, with no way of knowing if an attack would happen that night. When would it stop! As she strolled through the city, the searchlights of flak guns danced across the sky, searching desperately for a target. The city was beautiful. Tanya wondered how long it would stay like this.

Die Hollansche Baai, Near Yorkania’s Nautical Borders…

Dealing with Stevid isn’t a tough challenge, knowing that the Guffingfordian navy is vastly superior to theirs. Trouble’s brewing in the south, where a once mighty colony of Hogsweat is crippling, and almost begging to be part of Guffingford. There’s only one catch: their politicians and citizens don’t want to. At first the ideas of annexing Yorkania and the Hogsweatia colony caused quite an outrage in the parliament, but things changed when the catastrophe hit Hogsweat. At first the most cautious members of the parliament began ushering the same idea’s again, but this time people appreciated these daring endeavours.

A naval blockade always works, that’s what the captains of the fleet say. It does work, but only in small scale battles. Although the action scene is quite small, the destruction will outweigh most conflicts. Two hateful ideologies stand against each other, and nothing is in between to quell the spiteful situation. A battle with the fate of a city at stake, either the communists prevail but remain in danger, or the capitalists win and will impose a reign of terror onto them. It’s not an either or kind of thing, both will be the same: terror and fear. Both parties know it and both parties accept it graciously. Both sides know many people will die, especially innocent victims on the communist side? Who knows.

The Naval Blockade

The 17th, 18th and 19th fleet are mostly aimed at keeping an airforce at bay and coastal destruction. Suited for the task at hand in Yorkania, as GPS and satellite intelligence tells Strategic Command that they will have no significant weaponry against the mighty Guffingfordian ships. Of course the Hogsweatians know about the sudden power of Guffingford’s navy. But in all honesty, who would’ve expected it? Who would have thought a (former) OMP nation – Stevid – would be defeated on their battle terrain: the high seas. At the three respectable fleets move to block Yorkania and the three islands, more troops pour into the mountainous border region. Anti-Tank guns, siege guns, artillery and heavy artillery.

The Navy’s supposed to fire the first salvos to officially open up the battle. The main munitions used will be phosphorus charges, fuel-air and napalm. Then the only bridge between the mainland Hogsweatia and the island Yorkania will be destroyed. Cut off from resources, they can only pray for a quick end to their misery. A cliff side approach with troops is a fast way to get rid of a generation of young servicemen. Not a good idea. For now, the navy has to focus on bombing them to bits and pieces, then the infantry will follow and cleanse the colony of communist presence.

A small use of liquid time
Two Days Later…

The naval forces are in place, the infantry’s ready to go. Snipers have taken their positions near the border and the legendary Foot Cavalry led by General Chuck Barnard are prepared to move into hostile territory. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting for the flagship, the HMS Refraction to fire the first salvo. Minutes pass. Minutes turn into hours. And after two and a half hours, the massive gun barrels move into position, aiming at the designated coordinates. Captain Bloomsburry stood on the bridge, watching the high granite cliffs. God knows what’s built beneath the city he pondered, but it was not a time to think. Now was the time to act.

He pressed the fire button.

OOC: Character RP will be in a separate post, this is the most important.

Jolt is silly. On a sidenote, have received Guff's authorization to post.

From: Colonel Jan Kovalevski, Jesters FMC*
To: Ministry of Defence, Hanseatic League of Guffingford

To whom it may concern,

It has come to our attention that the Hanseatic League of Guffingford is close to engaging warfare against Hogsweatian Democratic Republic. As such, the Jesters Free Mercenary Corps offers its services to the Hanseatic League in its quest against the communists. Currently we number three and a half thousand men and can be deployed to the theatre most quickly.

The Jesters are a centuries old unit that has a long history of fighting in armed conflicts both at home and abroad. Our men are recruited from amongst the most hardened veterans of the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces and each and every one of them is a specialist in several fields, including ground, aerial and even naval combat.

Our current contract with the Grand Ducal government expires tomorrow, and we are reluctant to renew a contract which would tie us to the now pacified realms of Tavaroth. The Jesters are made for fighting, not manning checkpoints and verifying credentials. Our sentiment is shared by the Free Swordsmen and Silver Lances groups whose respective contracts expire within the coming weeks and whose commanders have authorized me to communicate you their interest in new contracts.

Looking forward to your reply,
Colonel Jan Kovalevski,
Jesters FMC

P.S. You shall find annexed detailed information on our base tariffs, as well as the specialisation range per subordinate units.

[OOC: FMC stands for Free Mercenary Corps, an official legal entity in Grand Ducal law. Members of such units are free to fight for foreign powers (and individuals), with the sole exception that fighting against the Grand Duchy is a no-no (obviously), but they are not under Grand Ducal protection while they are in battle zone (the term ‘battle zone’ being defined by the Grand Duchy).

As such, if a member of an FMC is taken prisoner abroad whilst fighting for a foreign power, it is his fault. Same if he dies, the Grand Duchy will not pay his family anything. However, once the FMC leaves a battle zone, its members yet again enter under the protection of the Grand Duchy.

On the positive note, the earnings of an FMC are not subject to "taxes", but to a unique "tribute" system which enables it to keep a larger percentage of its income.]

Yorkania, Solechnaya Street, 3:22 PM
The rumble was distant, but it was there. The flash and the light of a 30" ETC cannon firing a single shell was easily noticed by spotters on the dockfaces. The signal was too late, and too inprecise however, and the shell continued on it's way. There was no time to evacuate as it smashed into a twenty storey apartment block. The giant explosion ruptured the superstructure, giving out a shockwave that smashed glass, fractured bone, and bent metal. The explosion on the tower block killed everybody inside; at least four hundred women and children slaughtered under fires, collapsing concrete and the initial explosion. The tower block collapsed, sending the top half flying into the building next to it, giving no remorse to anyone trapped inside. Emergency services dashed to the scene, but they were too late to stop anything but aftermath flames. Nobody knew the casualties but it must have been somewhere around a thousand civilians. Confusion reigned as the paramedics, military and non military alike, began to dig people out of the ruins of Tower Block III and Tower Block V. Crumbled concrete and twisted metal littered the streets.

The war had begun.

Command HQ, 300m underneath Yorkania
The aide saluted as he approached Colonel Farsalov. "Sir, the enemy gives fire."

"No shit, Corporal. I've seen the reports. A single shot. A thousand dead." The colonel hammered his fist on the table. "Bring up the heavy batteries. They must pay."

"Yessir!" The aide-corporal affirmed, smartly saluting and leaving the command HQ.

Yorkania City Square
The vehicle was huge. At least eighty metres long and twenty five wide, its main attraction was the giant cannon angled behind a shield on its top. Scrawled in neat handwriting on the side were the words; Red Bear. Its partner in coastal defence, the Comrade Dorsal, and the other heavy cannon in the battery, Iron Lady, sat in the city square, the vehicles formed the 33rd Heavy Artillery Battery of the Red Army. Their giant 45.27 (1150mm) calibre guns shined a dull matt-black and they looked ridiculously large. Several replacement barrels, each big enough to fit a small man inside, were bundled together by each vehicle and a company of engineers sat about, smoking and talking. Battery Commander Boris Berisovsky dialed in a radio frequency in the command cupola of the Red Bear. His unit was co-ordinating with spotters off the dockface to counter-engage the Guffingfordian ships. Berisovsky marked on his map the lighthouse as the bearing marker and opened his radio.

"Foxtrot One Four, Foxtrot One One, receive, over."

A crackle came back across the short-range radio.

"Foxtrot One One, Foxtrot One Four receives, over."

"Affirmative Foxtrot One Four. Please mark targets as appropriate."

A small wait.

"Roger-roger Foxtrot One One. Target, range 30 kilometres, bearing... 344 degrees, fire for effect, over."

"Firing for effect, over." Berisovsky switched the radio off. "RANGE, 30 Kilometres!" he shouted. The crew toiled on the hydro-pneumatic assisted heavy cannon, and soon it was raised into the position needed. The rest of the battery followed suit. "SWITCH, 344 degrees!" he shouted. The vehicle turned slightly to the left, and the battery again followed. Berisovky leant out the cupola, gave a nod to the engineers, who began to fix their helmets and earmuffs. He did the same.

"FIRE FOR EFFECT!"

He screamed. The giant guns opened fire simultaneously, sending a ripple across the city itself and causing anyone in the immediate area, if they were not wearing earmuffs, to be deafened temporarily. By the end of the day, even the well-protected commander's ears would be ringing. The shells screamed through space and time and splashed not so far off the Guffingfordian fleet. A radio buzz marked the spotters seeing the target.

"Foxtrot One One, adjust range, 30.2345 kilometres, bearing 347 degrees, over."

So the process repeated. And repeated. And repeated.