Feline
11-05-2004, 10:42
IC: The Feline Ministry of Defense announces that it has begun training a new type of combat division to better suit the needs of the Allanean war and similar conflicts. It will start out, on a trial basis, with a third of a division, and if successful, will be increased to a full division.
They will be drawn from the ranks of the Feline Amphibious Forces, and will have training similar to the Elite Commandos, but focusing more on their particular areas, making them less versatile, but with lower costs, than the Elite Commandos and the Commandos.
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Secret IC:
A remixed, coarse revielle blared at the stroke of midnight, and the troops transferred to a small new Feline military installation groggily walked out of the barracks.
"Attention, you no good pieces of junk!" screamed Colonel Francis Nazanad into a megaphone. 5,000 troops fell into line. "You have volunteered for service in a new unit. At this point, there is no quitting. Until this unit is up to full division size, which it will be, for we will NOT fail, no one may leave. So no matter how pathetic you are, or much you want to go home crying for your mother/father, you may not leave."
He walked closer.
"Now, the 1st Amphibious Guerilla Force is a new type of warfare, although its name suggests otherwise. The first AGF is designed to covertly insert large numbers of forces onto hostile foreign shores, and conduct guerilla warfare operations to vanquish the enemy. The difference is the covert insertion. You will train in water-land amphibious assaults and water-air-land amphibious assaults. I suggest you get some more sleep. You'll need it. Dismissed."
The troops, shaken from the tough lecture, went back into their barracks. Five hours later (OOC: Just so you know, most of our citizens get up around this time), a loud, but normal, reveille played over the speakers. "Get up, get up, get up you low-lifes! What are you, useless bags of cells?" screamed Nazanad through the megaphone again. "This is today's schedule. 0510-0520, breakfast. 0520-0530, as many calesthenics as you can do in ten minutes. 0530 to 1000, classroom prep. 1000 to 1100, a ten kilometer run. 1100 to 1130, lunch. 1130 to 1230, recreation. 1230 until 2000, tactical training. 2000 until 0500 next day, sleep."
The troops quickly filed to the mess hall. The Feline military served it troops good food when not in combat- the typical combat ration was a patch applied to the skin that delivers everything you need, not exactly something that boosts morale that much. So, they had some of the best food in the world, prepared to the standard of a five star resteraunt, to look forward to.
They quickly selected from the buffet, and shoved it down.
"Alright, let's move! Pushups! Now!" yelled Nazanad. He may be a strict commander, but he believed that commanders should be in as good, if not better, fighting condition mentally and physically than their subordinates. He got down and did pushups as they did. "Situps! Let's go!" They did situps. They continued through a full range of calesthenics and yoga postures (part of the Feline military calesthenics routine) for ten minutes.
They then filed into the classrooms, where DOECO (our intel service) covert agents taught them methods of covert insertion, where retired from combat duty Elite Commandos taught them combat skills, and so on and so on.
They then got into the run, and when it was over, they were tired and looking forward to the meal. They quickly went in, and selected again from the buffet of food. They ate it, and then prepared to go on their recreation. But, it was not to be so. "It has come to my attention that some members of my unit took a shortcut on the run today. This is unacceptable. To make up for it, we will run again. Recreation is cancelled." said Nazanad, walking into the mess hall.
They ran again, absolutely exhausted by the time it was over. They then began practicing various methods of insertion and combat, Nazanad yelling at them it they got it wrong all the way. He was determined to make this unit, his brainchild, succeed.
Exhausted from the day of training, the troops filed back in to the barracks. Tommorow would bring a similar routine.
OOC: That whole description of a day of training was intended to show you, for OOC knowledge, that these troops are going to be good.
They will be drawn from the ranks of the Feline Amphibious Forces, and will have training similar to the Elite Commandos, but focusing more on their particular areas, making them less versatile, but with lower costs, than the Elite Commandos and the Commandos.
----------------------------------------------------
Secret IC:
A remixed, coarse revielle blared at the stroke of midnight, and the troops transferred to a small new Feline military installation groggily walked out of the barracks.
"Attention, you no good pieces of junk!" screamed Colonel Francis Nazanad into a megaphone. 5,000 troops fell into line. "You have volunteered for service in a new unit. At this point, there is no quitting. Until this unit is up to full division size, which it will be, for we will NOT fail, no one may leave. So no matter how pathetic you are, or much you want to go home crying for your mother/father, you may not leave."
He walked closer.
"Now, the 1st Amphibious Guerilla Force is a new type of warfare, although its name suggests otherwise. The first AGF is designed to covertly insert large numbers of forces onto hostile foreign shores, and conduct guerilla warfare operations to vanquish the enemy. The difference is the covert insertion. You will train in water-land amphibious assaults and water-air-land amphibious assaults. I suggest you get some more sleep. You'll need it. Dismissed."
The troops, shaken from the tough lecture, went back into their barracks. Five hours later (OOC: Just so you know, most of our citizens get up around this time), a loud, but normal, reveille played over the speakers. "Get up, get up, get up you low-lifes! What are you, useless bags of cells?" screamed Nazanad through the megaphone again. "This is today's schedule. 0510-0520, breakfast. 0520-0530, as many calesthenics as you can do in ten minutes. 0530 to 1000, classroom prep. 1000 to 1100, a ten kilometer run. 1100 to 1130, lunch. 1130 to 1230, recreation. 1230 until 2000, tactical training. 2000 until 0500 next day, sleep."
The troops quickly filed to the mess hall. The Feline military served it troops good food when not in combat- the typical combat ration was a patch applied to the skin that delivers everything you need, not exactly something that boosts morale that much. So, they had some of the best food in the world, prepared to the standard of a five star resteraunt, to look forward to.
They quickly selected from the buffet, and shoved it down.
"Alright, let's move! Pushups! Now!" yelled Nazanad. He may be a strict commander, but he believed that commanders should be in as good, if not better, fighting condition mentally and physically than their subordinates. He got down and did pushups as they did. "Situps! Let's go!" They did situps. They continued through a full range of calesthenics and yoga postures (part of the Feline military calesthenics routine) for ten minutes.
They then filed into the classrooms, where DOECO (our intel service) covert agents taught them methods of covert insertion, where retired from combat duty Elite Commandos taught them combat skills, and so on and so on.
They then got into the run, and when it was over, they were tired and looking forward to the meal. They quickly went in, and selected again from the buffet of food. They ate it, and then prepared to go on their recreation. But, it was not to be so. "It has come to my attention that some members of my unit took a shortcut on the run today. This is unacceptable. To make up for it, we will run again. Recreation is cancelled." said Nazanad, walking into the mess hall.
They ran again, absolutely exhausted by the time it was over. They then began practicing various methods of insertion and combat, Nazanad yelling at them it they got it wrong all the way. He was determined to make this unit, his brainchild, succeed.
Exhausted from the day of training, the troops filed back in to the barracks. Tommorow would bring a similar routine.
OOC: That whole description of a day of training was intended to show you, for OOC knowledge, that these troops are going to be good.