NationStates Jolt Archive

[El Provencio, Spain]
The young and the old congregated in the town square of the small village of El Provencio creating quite a stir, cacophony of sounds compose of sporadic noises made by the mass of bodies or the strings of speech coming from a myriad of directions enshrouding the once silent area. It was truly a miracle that some two thousand people had been able to pack inside the small square and the strain showed as some began to diffuse into the streets with led from the square to the extremeties of the village, however, still making sure that they would be able to hear fine. The throng began to raise their right hands into the air in a fascist style salute yelling,"Viva Catalan. Viva Espana. Abajo con los putos Communistas!"

It was strange how most of the rural population had suddenly risen to the banner of the upstart American boy with Spanish citizenship, given to him because his mother was Spanish. The rise of the young eigteen year old Jonatan Catalan, as he was known in Spain, was rather strange as the only reason he had come to the darned country was to complete his university track promised to him by an American consulate. Of course, he had come all his summers and even some winters, sometimes even thrice a year, but had it not been for his time at the universities of Spain, meeting students who agreed with his ultra-right wing nationalistic, yet tolerant, views he would have never had the chance to conjur such a popular movement. In fact, the massive crowd present at El Provencio was just one of thousands dotting the country side of Spain all prepared by cronies of Catalan, and in two days the largest mass rally of Catalan's supporters would find their way to Madrid where, in front of the PSOE headquarters, they would begin their protest. Indeed, the power which Catalan wielded was proved by the drastic measures employed by the fearful Socialist. Just months before one of Catalan's mass rallies, at Barcelona that time, had ended in fiasco as a police team raided the compounds of the amphitheater and had arrested key members of Catalan's 'party', the Partido Ultra Nacionalista Iberico del Obrero or PUNIO (Spanish for fist, although that spelt 'puno' with the n with the tilde over it.). However, that breach of the constitution would prove a painful decision of the PSOE as Catalan, himself not arrested due to political pressures, took the PSOE to court and had several of its own key members, including the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, arrested for years in federal prisons.

In order to follow up with the varied success Catalan decided to launch a massive country wide program in which his rhetoric would be preached and as he claimed,"would incite the mobilization of the Spanish population to my cause and will lead to an across the board revolution which will sweep the current government of its feet and put a more nationalist, and thusly a more efective, government in its place. The Socialist must not be allowed to rule Spain as their regime will mean the end of a free capitalist society. Spain was the bastion of freedom in western Europe during the 50s when the Soviets threatened to roll over Western Germany and France, but now our heritage and our legacy is threatened by a lot of incompetents. The revolution will not falter!"

So, the first round of rallies, the small villages, had kicked off, and El Provencio, home town of the immediate family of Jonatan Catalan, including his mother, his uncle (and his wife and daughter), and his grandfather. They all found themselves at the same square, awaiting the same man, the man who threatened an entire administration, and a man who promised a glorious future for Spain. The crowd rose in a might roar as that man, Jonathan Catalan, gracefully swept up to the stage in front of the entire crowd of two thousand souls, garbed in black dress, only further darkened by his black as the night parka, covering from his neck to his boots. He gave a right stiff arm salute to the crowd, and the people returned it, and he yelled,"Viva Espana! When the people returned his hail accordingly he continued,"People of Spain, you have been cheated from a free government. These Communist who claim to have been elected for the good of the country are imposters, and for all they have managed to say they are still covered by the thin facade they used from the beginning. As learned people you must see it! They think you stupid, they think you country hicks, but I know your true potential. You are all the base of this country, without you there would be no Spain! They claim to work for you, yet they call you foolish? Do they not trust you? No! So, how could they work for you? It's obvious my people of Spain, they are lying to you, using you for their own advantages. Every policy they have signed is for themselves. They are no better than the Moors of old, when they came to Spain and stole our riches. The history of such people has marks all over the world. Russia, Communist from around 1921 to 1989 has suffered the consequences - once on par population wise with the United States, Stalin's purges and Hitler's murders have caused the country's demographics to decline considerably, and they still suffer from the same problem. Spain herself had her own brief moment of socialism. During the 1930s, after Primo de Rivera's disastrous regime, the Socialist attempted to gain power under Azana, and the only event wrought was the expansion of the Communist Party (UGT) and the Anarchist Party (CNT) - it took a civil war to stop that such a disastrous marraige between two evils! Now, we are presented with the same instance but we know enough to stop it early on. So, follow me and follow me to Madrid, where we shall topple our enemies and it its place craft a government which will serve for the glory of Spain! I promise all of you that the days of King Fernando de Aragon e Isabella de Castilla are not far enough, and empire and power awaits us at the far expanses of this earth!"

The crowd cheered as he gave another stiff arm salute, then another one. The rise of fascism was not far, and in all truth the people of the country side had been fooled. But, that was government, was it not? The entire purpose was to fool the people. Hitler fooled the masses, Bush fooled the masses. Were they geniuses? The obvious answer was no, and it was correct - they were not - but they were considerably smarter than the country people, who failed to know their right from left, and it was them that gave them a distinct advantage. Indeed, should the Communist decide to run a rally the very next day the people of El Provencio were likely to sway to their side immediately, except for the diehards - that's how easy the common masses were moved. Catalan ensured himself that he would be the one to use this to his own advantage, and that he did that day at El Provencio, as his hench men and subservient PUNIO party members were doing elsewhere, all over Spain. With a smug look on his white face, ugly long nose portruding in a true Spanish manner, he walked off the stage. His nose had presented problems earlier, as it was a nose built of Jewish (his father) and of Moor (his mother, as a Spaniard, obviously had ancient Moor genetics) blood, but the people of Spain had grown to tolerate him as he had proven himself to be a true fascist, nationalist.

It was strange, however. Catalan did not consider himself fascist, just nationalist. He truly had nothing against other religions, indeed, his friends in the states were comprised of people from different races and belief systems, but he had to do what he had to do to rein in the populace to his cause, and that would inevitable conclude in an action tatamount to the infamous inquisition of Ferdinand and Isabel in the 15th and early 16th century. He would either have to enforce laws oppressing the Islamic, South American, Mexican, and Slavic populations in Spain, or he would have to expulse them. The latter was not an option since the Slavic population was the focal point of Spain's agricultural success and the sudden surge in its population numers. Doing so would mean signing a death warrant for Spain and would put an early end to any regime Catalan managed to install in Spain, which would be shaky to start with - just as Franco's Falangist regime had been in the 40s and 50s. It would take time to consolidate Catalan's power in Spain, but under no circumstances would that detract from Catalan's policies of the further glorification of Spain.

Some would claim Catalan's attitude as haughty, as he had no way to ensure his rise to power. Catalan claimed it was inevitable, as proved in his 13 Febuary 2005 interview with the Spanish El Pais, a very large newspaper bordello in Spain which had subscribers all over the world. He said,"A PSOE leadership in Spain cannot, and will not, survive. Frankly put, the people will not accept said administration. Instead, I will be put to lead Spain to her glory and I promise you that the Spain of the year to come will not be the Spain you see today. That I swear."

The skeptics claimed that the world would support the PSOE, but Catalan chuckeled and replied,"They can believe what they want, but could they believe their eyes when my wanderwaffe rolls through the streets of Madrid? My complete victory is inevitable, that I assure you. If the world comes to aid against my plight then I shall destroy whatever they send. I cannot lose."

It was, indeed, true, Catalan had been able to gain huge funds, in the billions of United States dollars, from thousands of companies owned by fascist minded individuals, including companies in Northern Italy and Flanders - both in France and Belgium -, as well as dozens of corporations in the United States. With this money Catalan had not just funded his tour around Spain but the creation of ten gargantuan factories in Castilla la Mancha, on territories formerly owned by Catalan himself which had been vinyards - spanning areas people could not imagine - and the factories, all subterranean, were already prepared to begin to chug out the wanderwaffe Catalan had spoken of in his interview. Although it was in small portions even small amounts would render the ordnance of the PSOE absolutely obsolete. For one, a new anti-tank gun, the Javalina, designed after the American Javelin, could pierce through any armored rating the Spanish military boasted of, including the vaunted Leopard IIs. Another wanderwaffe was the new Panzerkampfwaggen XI main battle tank, which in total, twenty were planned for construction, ten of which were completed. This alone took about one hundred and sixty million of Catalan's total treasury. Finally, due to limitations Catalan was able to only produce five of his much needed MMA-A3 Falcon air superiority aircraft. But even those five were sure to make a difference. All of these weapons were stored in subterranean storage centers, ready to be tapped into for the uprising.

However, for Catalan to surely succeed he would need the support of foreign nations in order to fund for the creation of more of these weapons. The twenty-five BredtSverdt' could most likely deal with Spain's entire armored fist, however, more small arms were needed, and more aircraft were needed. But Jonatan Catalan knew that the most likely case was that the foreign world would turn a blind eye to him, so he prepared his plans for the eventual rising, a rising which would rival that of 1936, with the resources he had at hand. But first, he had to worry about Madrid.

[Madrid, Spain]
The strung out convoy of civilian cars with sporadically placed military grade trucks, probably vintage from wineries which used old Spanish Civil War era transports to move grapes about, moved up the 'Andalucia', the principle highway which connected the string of villages, including El Provencio, moving southeast and then back south, to Madrid. The bright sun glinted off the steel chassis of the automobiles which quite frankly proved to be a hazard to the eye, and indeed, most drivers were wearing darkly tinted aviator glasses, which also went with the current trend in clothing and style. Along the center of the string of cars was a pitch black Audi A8, the largest in its class, moving tempo with the rest of the convoy. The car carried the young Jonatan Catalan, upstart revolutionary of Spain, and his main advisors, his friends Victor de la Higuera and Miguel del Sol, and would be the center of various plots which circled around in their brains before they got to Madrid.

Inside, Catalan began to speak his personal views,"Should we start today? If we don't then it will just be another rally in which we may gain support, or we may lose support, depending on how our enemies react. If it begins today then we will be going with what he have present with us, ready or not, for better or for worse. But, something inside tells me to do it now, and something else tells me to wait. I cannot make up my mind."

del Sol responded in kind, ready to give his friend and leader anything he needed, including his life,"Caudillo, if I may be so bold as to suggest, I think it would be better to launch it today. In the coming weeks our production will not have churned anything new in the numbers necessary for an overwhelming victory, for that to happen we would need to wait at least two years, so if you're looking for a coup that would succeed in the forty-eight to seventy-two yours after it's launched I suggest you do it today."

Catalan nodded and then looked at de la Higuera and Victor replied,"Yo creo lo mismo Jonny."

Catalan sighed. He had never imagined himself in this position, tiping the balance of power. Of course, as a child he had thought himself a new Napoleon, one that would conquer the world from sea to sea, with armies so vast that neither Hitler's, Alexander's or Napoleon's armies would be able to imagine. It was easy to see that such an overwhelming global Empire with such an expansive army was impossible, especially with the assets presented to him through Spain, a country with about thirty-nine million people, outnumbered by France to the north and almost every other major country around it. Catalan would have to do with what he had. However, saying that Catalan's ambitions would only take him to Spain was niave, and frankly untrue, for a man of Catalan's taste could never be satisfied with just a petty peninsular power. Catalan needed an international superpower, and so the upcoming years would be shrouded by his attempts to gain just this. But, such trivial pursuits would have to be left for later, as for now he had to worry about his coup de grace.

The young soon to be dictator of Spain reached into the right pocket of his suit pants, made up cheap cotton, and took out a metallic silver cell phone punching in a quick dial number and putting the machine to his ear. He waited a few seconds and the line picked up and Catalan said,"Ahora." Hanging up he put the cell phone back in his pocket and smiled. The driver opened up the thing sound proof glass which seperated the driver's compartment with the back and said,"Madrid in five minutes. Welcome to the capital of your Empire sir." Catalan chuckeled...empire indeed...

[Sevilla, Spain]
"Tango-3, this is Hotel-6, we're moving up Calle Campania, ETA to telecommunication center is about ten minutes, and we've had no problems with security yet."

The twenty man team which made up Hotel-6 were the best Catalan could assemble south of Madrid for taking out the central communications system network in Sevilla, the key to Andalucia, which was the key to Southern Spain, which thus gave Catalan a third of the country before the day was even over. That latter fact would be imperative in any victory of his. They moved up in four red Ford carrs, flooring the accelerator and hitting around one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour down the main street, oblvious to the traffic around them - the operations would have to go fast because the other operations in Sevilla depended on the success of Hotel-6 and operation DORIC. The four cars stopped in the center of the road, setting up what resembled a road block and the twenty men rapidly stepped out, carrying their An-94s with them, some even with Javaline missile launchers on their back, and some with light machine guns - this was no bank robbery, this was a fullfledge military grade operation. One of the men took out a small waist portable radio and transmitted to a secured end,"This shit has hit the fan, over. I repeat, the shit has hit the fan. Bring in the cavalry folks."

Running the long incline made up of steps to a building constructed in a neo-classical architecture, including the namesake of the operation, the large, tall, Doric style columns, the twenty men spread out broadly and waved their assault rifles at passer by's bellow, making a few scream and even the men run to the other side to avoid the commotion. A security guard inside yelled,"Para!" but nobody really paid any attention to him and instead Sergeant Antonio Lopez put a single 5.45mm round square between the eyes, shutting down the fat security guard almost immediately. A few yells ripped inside and the alarm system quickly turned on putting the entire building on lock down, including shutting and locking the outer doors. One of the last para-military soldiers to make it up the steps ran towards the door, dropped his An-94 and swung over his backpack and opened it. He motioned for the others to step back, who did so while setting up a close watch because they knew the police and military were going to show up soon, and then the man placed a 10kg Octagen explosive on the door, which stuck to the huge steel frame. The entire team of twenty stepped back, moving down the stairs once again considerably, and soon enough the explosives tore sending sparks and flames all over the place ripping open the wide and broad doors, and filling the entire area with smoke. The sound made bolted through the streets, sending not just a few of the pedestrians down on their knees just in case more bombs were going off, and the entire scene looked like Paris in '44 when German snipers terrorized civilians after the capture of the city by the Free French.

Hotel-6 moved in quick, keeping themselves on their feet, and firing wildly into the smoke. Once they busted through they witnessed the atrocity they had forged, including about fifty bodies strewn dead across the floor, the blood reaching even the ankles of the men as it gushed out of the dead corpses which littered the building now. However, no man of Hotel-6 stopped to consider the brutality and instead they focused on their mission, adrenalin rushing through them, and moved through the building gunning down the security guards who at some point decided to stop trying to defend the building and instead surrender their weapons, which got them shot anyways. The motto was to let no man alive for they would just come to bite you in the ass later, and so this motto would be followed, and once the fighting was over a body count would claim the death of at least two hundred individuals in that building, another three hundred wounded, which fifty of those would die in the hospital or on the floors waiting to be carted away to the hospitals. A true tragedy indeed, however a tragedy that could be forgiven as collateral damage, at least in the militarized mine of Catalan who would soon run the state.

The men moved up the stairs instead of the elevator which inevitable took up time but was much safer in the long run. But, before they got to their destination the Sevilla police deparment, fully suited for special weapons and training operations had flooded the street and began to set up infiltration systems and teams in order to wipe out 'terrorist' inside the building. That meant that it was Tango-3s time to act, and so they did. A sniper's 7.62mm NATO bullet ripped through the head of the Civil Guard Major, who was the commander of the task force, and that ultimately slowed down any operations inside the building for a good ten minutes, which gave Hotel-6 ample time to finish the job.

Inside the building the men had finally reached a vault which contained the central computers which ran Sevilla's GPS systems, and general communication systems, including telephones and televisions. The capture of said building would give Catalan a strong point in the control of Sevilla, and putting a strong garrison, meaning Hotel-6 in there to control the people's entertainment, communications, et cetetra, would give him a source of power to wield and channel to his favor. A small pack of explosives tore through the lock on the vault and the men slammed the door open and rushed in. The technically expert proceeded to shut down everything. Sergeant Antonio Lopez took out his radio and said,"Terminado."

Outside the building the again organized police were disrupted by the fifty man Tango-3 team which had begun an all out urban war by opening fire with three co-axial light 10mm machineguns set up in machine gun nests along the windows in the high rises which sorrounded the area. Cars were shot up, setting off alarms, and slaughtering those who were too slow or too stupid to move for cover. It took about two minutes to complete the job, and once it was done the stench of the killing began to spread through the thin atmosphere reaching even the noses of the killers. The streets fell silent, even for two minutes...

[Toledo, Spain]
Toledo, as capital of the autonomous community of Castilla la Mancha, was another extremely important city. Indeed, the four most important cities which Catalan had put as his primary priorities were Sevilla, Toledo, Leon and Barcelona, all capitals of the largest and most important autonomous communities inside Spain. Toledo would prove to be the easiest of the four and was expected to fall into Catalan's hands within minutes of the start of operations against the Socialist administration. So it was, for the city shot up in rebellion as soon as Catalan made that fateful phone call inside his black Audi A8. Mobs armed with old rifles and some para-military forces armed with M-16s or An-94s, whatever they could get a hand of, moved down the streets of Toledo towards the old city which would become the soon infamous 'fortress of Toledo'. The mobs overran police stations, burnt administrative centers to the ground, and murdered those who were not sympathetic to 'the cause'. In one instance a family of eighteen, mostly children, and even the extended family of a prominent UGT party member, were dragged out to the streets and pushed up against the brick walls of other houses and shot point black with powerful rifles, distributing their brains and blood along the walls, creating an ugly scene of destruction. It prompted one officer to say,"Should we lose I'm afraid we're all guilty of war crimes."

One mob moved into the old city and began to escalate the long, winding, Arab built pathways which led to the thin streets which made up the old city. A quick reaction force set up by the old PP administration around 1994 was able to get on its feet, armed with three Bradly Infantry Fighting Vehicles and boasting about two hundred infantry, armed with among the best ordnance given to those who fought for the Socialist. They were fast to establish layered defenses along the various pathways that led to the center of the city, but they were horribly overstretched and the roadblocks set up were overran by sheer numbers, although large amounts of the rioters were cut down by machine gun fire, mortars, and even large high explosive shells. The day light sky covered the bulbs of murderous fire and the fireworks of explosive shells and had this occured during the night it would have painted quite a scene against the backdrop of the sky.

Heavy firefights leading to the center of the city ensued but it was impossible for such a small force to stop over six thousand citizens, whos ranks were increasing after every passing minute. One rapid reaction force soldier was beaten and then had his eyes gauged out before he was hung from the Arab built walls of the old city. The grotesque scene which was establishing itself in Toledo would go forever in the history books of war criminals and war, but perhaps that was exactly what the mob wanted - a name for itself. That name would come with the destruction of socialism and communism in Spain, and the mob would be force behind said drive. It took maybe twenty minutes for the mobs to breakthrough the roadblocks and into the city but by that time the Spanish military was making passes which jets which scared many of the people in the mobs to trickle back to their houses, but for the most part the rebellion continued and all the columns of men converged on a single house - the home of the president of Castilla la Mancha. One of the men yelled,"Death to the Socialist! Long live Catalan! Long live Spain! Long live the west!"

That prompted others to begin to scream out similar chants and finally a team of men carrying torches shot bolts of fire through the windows by using an improvised ballista using tension as its strength. Flames raged inside, spitting red and orange licks from the windows, marked with occasional explosions. The mob cheered the entire way through but karma struck back when a roof top came tumbling down killing about six of them.

From the various cathedrals, churces and government buildings the flag of Catalan, a black double headed eagle on a white background, waved violently in the winds forged by the ongoing fires through the city, and streaking the light blue skies with the beauty of western civilization. The death of the eastern scourge of Communism was at hand...

[El Provencio, Cuenca, Castilla la Mancha, Spain]
The Socialist had responded quickly to the Toledo fiasco and moving from Cuidad Real was a small column of about thirteen M1A2 Abrams, recently bought from the United States who sold weaponry to both Morocco and Spain. M1A2s were thought to be top of the line, however what the Socialist had not betted on was the unveiling of Catalan's master creation, the Panzerkampfwaggen XI (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=404504) which put together the best of all tanks. The squad of Abrams moved into El Provencion, unaware that this was actually the center of Catalan's movement and as they began to work their way through the main street they became prime targets for the hidden BredtSverd. As the last Abrams moved in the garage door to a storage room for barley opened quickly revealing one of the BredtSverds. The 120mm gun moved to meet the rear of the doomed Abrams and soon a 120mm SABOT Ausf. B round shot out of the long barrel of the BredtSverd. The encasement fell away revealing a rod of depleted uranium moving at ungodly velocities towards the rear of the Abrams and before one could say,"Reload," the rod smashed into the Abram's square back end forcing it to stop in its tracks before it began to smoke. It was safe to say that the entire crew was dead, and this was soon underscored by the explosion inside the armor when the rod hit the shell supply underneath the loader's compartment.

The entire armored column began evasive manuevers and the second to last Abrams rotated its turret carrying the 120mm Rhinemettal gun to meet the newest threat, but it found that at its angle the BredtSverd was invisible. The huge new tank moved out from its confines and lined up its ETC gun onto the Abrams launching another depleted uranium SABOT into its rear, scoring another kill. The remaining eleven Abrams began manuevers to turn around but this actually opened them to destruction as the BredtSverd quickly reloaded the gun and lined up another shot using its revolutionary turret technology and placed a third shell right into the side armor of another Abrams, claiming another devastating kill. A fourth shell ripped through a fourth tank but soon the Abrams were positions to begin operations. A fifth shell hit the frontal armor of an Abrams but didn't penetrate enough to claim a fifty kill and the same Abrams returned fire although in its haste overshot the shell hitting a house behind the BredtSverd. So, with flames dancing in the background the remaining ten tanks and the single BredtSverd gracefully moved to avoid destruction and kill its enemies. The BredtSverd hit the wounded Abrams with a second shell in the frontal armor again, but this time penetrating it wholly and slamming the rod into the face of the driver and then out the back of the tank - that Abrams was as good as dead.

Another Abrams managed to put a titanium SABOT into the frontal armor of the BredtSverd and it was stopped before it could do major damage by the primary layer of Kontackt-5 ERA bricks but it persuaded the BredtSverd to move back into the side streets away from the fighting, but before it left it lined up its turret with its backside and put a seventh depleted uranium rod into the side of a sixth Abrams, claiming a sixth kill. In return the Abrams began filing out of the town at about fifty kilometers per hour tearing the asphalt from under them as they fled top speed away from the scene - it was to prove a debacle that would occur time and time again in the coup.

A later report filed by the squad commander claimed that,"They had encountered some sort of weapon which was unlited in any manual and that the RADAR could not filter and classify. It was something monstrous, new, and deadly." It would in fact shape the war to come.

[El Provencio, Spain]
El Provencio was quickly becoming the center of a huge armored battle in which the Socialist government was not willing to lose it over a few Abrams and indeed the order that President Zapatero had sent to his men seemed to underscore his personal crusade to crush the resistance at El Provencio. So, El Provencio soon became a massive symbilic emblem regardless of it's size and a victory for the Socialist at El Provencio would be a massive boost for the army's dwindling self confidence, and a defeat would serve directly the opposite purpose. It would conclude though that this notion of 'victory at all costs' would not reap the consequences such a policy had forged for the allies during the Second World War, and would instead spell the death of the Socialist administration and the rise of the Catalan regime.

Zapatero, with the help of the General Staff, had ordered all his armored personnel in Castilla la Mancha to congregate at Ciudad Real, a mere hundred or so kilometers from El Provencio, along with the armor from the area around Madrid. The reasoning behind these deployents were 'stopping the rebellion farther from Madrid would protect the capital from the scars of war and it will serve as a psycological punishment to the fascist.' It would turn out that this order, at first seen as a solve all end all, would prove quite a disaster. Nonetheless, within an hour of the opening fights at El Provencio, Sevilla and Toledo the complete set of about fifty-four M1A2 Abrams, which had already suffered six casualties, met with one hundred French designed AMX-30E, one hundred and fifty American designed M-47E, forty M-48A5E, forty M-41 and all sixty available Leopard IIs, which gave what would be called the '1st Armored Fist' a total strength of four hundred and forty four tanks. On the other side of the hill Catalan's total 'Provenciano' armored task force was composed of twenty-five BredtSverds [OOC: The original post claims Muwatallis', but the BredtSverds are actual 2005 tech so I'm using them instead], and farmers armed with the new Javalinas, of which there were only around a hundred available for use. But, the town would have to go with said defenses as their was no stopping the order of the president.

The First Armored Fist began to move east towards El Provencio as soon as al the components of the force were united and almost immediately they ran into some problems. Intelligence coming from those sympathetic to the fascist cuase in Cuidad Real had reported the presence of a huge armored force and consequently Catalan, noted immediately although he was already on his way to Madrid, called for his miniature airforce to beging operations from haphazard dirt runways in the midst of vyniards and olive fields.

Two MMA-A3 Falcons took off, sending a wave of dirt and dust behind them like a shockwave, turning the entire area into one giant dust atmosphere. The jets shrieked into the light blue skies of the heavens and turned and then began their straight accension into the clouds where they would finally hit a velocity of Mach 1.4 before they began their decension towards the columns of tanks. No doubt that the Spaniards would catch the movements of these Falcons at some point or another but it was doubted that the dated Spanish RADAR could pick up the Falcon soon enougn and thus the Falcons were given order to make a single pass on the column and to known out as many tanks as possible. For the mission each Falcon was given four MTAAM-3 Silencer Air to Air Missiles and eight MLAM-2 Air to Surface Missiles which would act as the anti-tank missiles destined to slaughter much of the Socialist 'armored fist'. The MTAAM-3 was perhaps the most advance air to air missile to date using a SCRAMjet engine with a Nickel based superalloy coating to throw it at over two hundred and seventy-five kilometers at Mach 4.7 [For more information see this (http://www.createforum.com/phpbb/viewtopic.php?t=24&mforum=macabeestorefro). The MLAM-2 although not as advance was also a fine piece of weaponry also having a superalloy coating, although using a solid fuel rocket booster, but it had a 200kg Octagen warhead. In any case, the MMA-A3 Falcons swooped down unto the column like their namesake birds and let loose a torrent of hell. The aircraft gracefully turned towards the Earth below, LIDAR and RADAR working fervently to gain accurate coordination for the MLAM-2s and this was done within seconds. Inside a minute's span of time a full force of sixteen MLAM-2s were unshackeled from their prison under the wings of the Falcons and they free fell for about twenty feet. All the while the Falcons began to accend again ready to leave back for the area around El Provencio to make another landing on that poor quality landing strip in the countryside - soon enough Catalan would have proper airports. The MLAM-2s had their engines turned on in midflight and they immediately stopped their augmenting decrease in altitude and began to fly leveled for a scant minute and the began its terminal phase of darting right into the column of tanks.

One MLAM-2 struck between a mass of AMX-30E tanks turning eleven of them into charred chassis and turning over another six. Another missile scored a direct hit on a M-47E which then had its weapons store blow causing a rupture and a wave that burnt out another twenty tanks and flipped over at least twelve. All in all the damage done was incredible and it would scar the column and would ultimately lead to its eventual defeat. The armor lost to that attack could never be regained by the Socialist government, however, it would be premature to say that it was all Zapatero's fault for there was no way that the man could know that Catalan had weapons which were seemingly produced from his arse. Indeed, the mere fact that Catalan had fighters more advance than anything in Spain's inventory sent massive shockwaves of distress in the capital and this would in the end affect Catalan's visitation of the city for his rally. In total once the column had passed through the raid and continued its drive towards El Provencio the roads behind were marked with one hundred and twelve burning chassis and about thirty flipped over, with crews scrambling out frantically trying to call for support so that they could re-join the column. But it would be futiless. The remaining three hundred and two tanks continued their journey. The smoke of the dead rose into the air and it would prove a drastic foreshadowing of the events to come.

The battle at El Provencio earlier had occured at around 0800 hours. So, when the column finally reached the outskirts of El Provencio it was around 1028 hours, and by then the para-military force Catalan had closely forged to defend his home town was fully armed and complete ready, forewarned of the advancing tanks. The news of the destruction wrought on them along the highway brought furhter enjoyment and proved to be an important boost of confidence and morale. So, when the column of enemy tanks appeared over the horizon the twenty-five BredtSverds were arrayed inside the town, ready to conduct murderous urban warfare.

The first tanks began to seep into the village after they had split up to enter through ten different streets and it was concluded that the fist would meet up in the center of the town and then continue towards the east where they would mop up remaining forces. Truly, it was conceived that it would be an easy fight, ignoring what had happened to the six unlucky Abrams that had met the BredtSverds up close and personal. This proved wrong as soon as those tanks stepped into the village. From the windows and doors of houses infantry armed with the vaunted Javaline opened fire. All across the board tanks were knocked out left and right providing a chaotic scene. One M-41 turned its turret and let loose a round early knocking out a M048A5E in front of it. It was disastrous but the poorly trained and poorly led motley task force continued its drive towards the center of the town, taking on heated fire.

It became truly disastrous when the streets became bottlenecks as Javalinas closed large groups of armor off by destroying the lead tank and the last tank. The resulting trapped armor was destroyed by infantry sneaking up on them and dropping grenades through the hatches killing the occupants and blowing up the explosives inside causing internal combustion. Some fifty tanks were destroyed within the first twenty minutes of the battle and the dust and smoke had cluttered the streets making them both impossible for tank warfare and impossible for anti-tank warfare. The surviving tanks broke off and decided to make their run around the town and hit from the other side. So they did, outpacing the quick moving men carrying the Javalinas, however, once they began to filter through they became targets of entrenched and well hidden BredtSverds using their powerful guns to knock out tank after tank without suffering a single death. The smoking and charred hulls of destroyed Spanish tanks littered the outskirts of the town and in the end the armored force was forced to break off and await further reinforcements which were promised for the next day. The men were told to drive to the friendly town of Pedroso and there rest, however, Catalan would have a surprise in store for them there also.

The first day of the soon to be recognized Battle for El Provencio was a fullfledge debacle for the Spanish forces who lost over two hundred tanks in a single day. This was to be the worst armored disaster in the history of mechanized warfare, not even found in the hidden archives of the Second World War. The same mistake would be committed over and over again by a regime bent on failure to change - the same failure that had been done by the Hapsburgs which were overthrown in the War of Spanish Succession over three hundred years past.

Secret Letter to The Tsarist Kingdom of The Estenlands
Yes, some sort of alliance between east and west, two absolute powers, would be beneficial for the both of us I would like to think. You may not notice or believe the capabilities of a Spain under my control, however, I assure you that having my martial prowess by your side will give you a valuable ally in the days to come.

Please, look over my words and analyze them to your own pleasure. I will not offer this twice, to take it now.

If you do decide to accept such a clandestine alliance then please you are open to the support of my cause and the appearance of such a superpower outside the waters of Spain will surely cause the Socialist administration to think twice about their resistance to my will.

Thank you,
Catalan

tag

[The 'Revolving' Battle for El Provencio]
The young man perched inside the bell tower of the church of El Provencio watched the horizon towards Pedroso using his high powered military grade binoculars. The church was beautiful, constructed during the fourteenth century, it stood as proof if Spain's Catholic heart, a notion that Catalan would make sure he did not leave behind. To support Catholism was to support Spain and to gather Spain's populace. It had been worked on during the years of 2003 and 2004 and it showed, glittering in the hot sun in all its theocratic splendor. The young man looking ahead was no more than fifteen years of age but the defenders of El Provencio had taken him as a willing recruit. They needed all they could get because Zapatero had gathered everything he had in Eastern Spain for the crushing of El Provencio, including around two hundred tanks and around twelve thousand front line infantry. Although the defendants of the small town had claimed over two hundred tank kills the previous day the extent of the new day's power was limited. Indeed, they were facing somewhat extreme ammunition shortages - the war wasn't expected to last this long. Most of Catalan's inner circle had expected the regime to buckle under the strenght of Catalan's resistance. Indeed, Castilla la Mancha was as good as his and Andalucia was on the way.

The soldier hidden in the bell tower began to flash hand signals to officers below who studied them in earnest. A radio man nodded and began to speak through the radio phone in a rather low tone,"We have a large armored formation and infantry headed our way coming from Pedroso. Begin phase one of simple plan defense. Out."

The eyes on the young man in the bell tower widened and he looked down and began to flash even more hand signals although seemed to be more desperate than the last. The radio man's own eyes also widened and he began to scream through the phone, releasing the calm composure he boasted of before,"Aerial formations heading from vector three-six-zero. Coming in at six hundred knots. Over."

It was too late. The F-18s swooped over El Provencio and one of the three aircraft unshackeled a small air to surface missile which free fell for a second or two and then pummeled into the bell tower of the church. Dust began to cover the streets under it and debris fell on the several soldiers horrified underneath it. There were no remains of the child soldier, but he died an honorable death. The F-18s elevated and then began to turn around for a second strike. They had yet to unleash the majority of their ordnance on the rebels below. The shriek they left behind richochets off the walls of the houses which filled El Provencio and some of the civilians had to cover their ears. The F-18s were already making their way back, the nose of the aircraft seemed to form a develish grin, marking death for those who stood in the path of their missiles.

From one of the lesser streets a bright red and orange flash preceeded a fairly sizable missile followed by a light grey path of smoke. The missile hissed into the air and locked onto the infra-red signatures made by the engines of the F-18s and pummeled into it, tearing off the wing of one of the aircraft which consequently sent the fighter burning towards the Earth. Those below watched in awe but didn't have time to see the second missile flash from another sector of the town. By now the F-18s were ready and quickly evaded although the surface to air missile turned around and locked on again. Picking up velocity the F-18s made their escape back to base - they would most likely be back, but at least the cheap missiles had scared them off. The flaming ball which was before the F-18 shattered into a house below creating quite a havoc amongst the populace in the area. In the sky the bright biege parachute of the pilot gracefully lowered into the town itself - that man would have quite a bit of explaining to do.

Two fascist soldiers ran up to him and immediately set off to arrest the pilot. One yelled,"Don't move!" The muzzle of his An-94 was clearly pointed towards the fallen pilot who didn't budge, likely due to the fact that he had clearly broken his arm in the fall. The second soldier asked, a bit more sternly,"Where's your navigator?"

The injured pilot looked up and responded,"What?"

His thick Andalucian accent was obvious and the soldier who had asked him the question sneered and kicked the man in the ribs, and then demaded an answer,"Where's your navigator gipsy swine?"

The pilot waved his uninjured arm and responded,"Okay, okay. He's dead."

The soldier looked at his partner, who shrugged in return. He then turned back to the pilot and picked him up by the neck collar to lead him away. Events elsewhere, however, would eclipse the capture of a prisoner of war.

A sector of the village burst in what seemed like fire works as red, orange and blue debris fluttered towards the floors. The bright glow of fires sparked throughout the horizon and the serene village again turned into a warzone. A single AMX-30E armored personnel carrier rumbled through the debris, stopping in front of a pile of stones. Inside the commander shouted for his driver to continue, but it was far too late. A standard RPG-27 grenade warhead drived into the side armor of the light vehicle and exploded inside the ammunition compartment sending the AMX-30E up in flames. However, the dead AMX-30E was followed by the Leopard IIs, their heavy chassis making an impression on the cheap asphalt roads under them, cracking even the newest layers of the material. The first Leopard II turned its muzzle towards a house which was opening up with machine gun fire and let loose a single high explosive shell into the window which shattered the facade of the house and most likely killed all of its occupants. The lead Leopard II was then knocked out by a depleted uranium SABOT fired from the 120mm smoothbore cannon of the BredtSverdt, hidden inside the coral of another house. The DU rod tore through the frontal plate armor of the Leopard II and struck through the abdoment of the loader killing him on site. The Leopard II was put out action quite effectively, but the rebel tank soon found itself the center of all the action. By then, though, the reinforcements had arrived in the form of farmers carrying the vaunted Javalina anti-tank missile launchers. The revolving armored battle soon got out of hand as the other Leopard IIs were shut out. However, a quick tungsten SABOT from one of the middle Spanish tanks tore into the side armor of the Panzerkampfwaggen IX BredtSverdt digging into its ammunition storage and blowing it sky high - it was the first armored casualty of Catalan's fascist forces.

The government forces were slowly making their way out, obviously vexed that the passage had not formulated. In their wake they left at least twenty Leopard IIs burnt out and around ten AMX-30Es dead. Their crews were piling out of the smoking ruins, formed by the charred remains of the compositely fabricated vehicles. They were all killed on site by machine gun fire - this war would not be one of mercy and compassion.

In order to alleviate the situation the infantry at hand began to form in order to break through the steel defense system along the outer arms of El Provencio and within an hour the force to strike had been fully deployed. Gun fire erupted as they rushed in, more like human waves than organized platoons, and they were slaughtered. House to house fighting ensued and the armor which had previously left was forced to return to support the infantry. The skyline of the small town was overwhelmed with fires and the sounds of war were heard at every point of El Provencio.

The two F-18s returned however a single surface to air missile left its launcher from the center of the town and struck one of the F-18s square in the cockpit, killing the pilot and navigator on site and cracking the fighter in half. The remains of the aircraft would be found alongside the fields which were now charred through the burnings of shells and heavy vehicles. The remnant F-18 left without dropping a single bomb or releasing a single missile. Both of aerial operations had been a failure, clear and simple.

The ground fighting continued with the government infantry actually making quite a bit of headway through the defenses, pushing the citizen army back further and further. However, behind them they left the tattered corpses of their dead, numbering in the hundreds by now, and the remains of destroyed tanks. It was a slaughter, and extremely one sided at that. For each house they raided they suffered over fifty killed and it quickly became obvious that the operations into the town could not continue without the entire force suffering major damage - damage which could not be repaired. The battle had been lost.

Content with the damage done the 'First Armored Fist' and its infantry wing began to pull out by 1800 hours. It was time for such a movement. They risked total destruction if they continued. However, the death toll for Catalan's citizen army had also been quite high. A total of six hundred bodies lay strewn across the streets of El Provencio bearing the patches of Catalan's forces. Three of the vaunted BredtSverdt were destroyed, although they had not played a major part in the battle. Although they had suffered much less than the government Catalan did not have the resources available to lose much.

But, alas, the battle for El Provencio was over.

[Madrid, Spain]
Zapatero yelled at his cabinet. The men looking at him were ashamed of both themselves and him. Zapatero, vexed, face red like a tomato, slapped the table and yelled some more,"We have lost the war! Our strongest formation in Castilla la Mancha has been more or less destroyed by petty civilians. Our generals are cowards who cannot command even a peasant army!"

One of those who were subject to the rant dared to interrupt the president,"With all due res-"

Zapatero cut him off abruptly,"Shut up! You are a failure as well. I have already opted to save my country. You may all leave. I wish to reel over this war on my own. Leave now!"

They all left as quickly as they had come, glad to escape the fury of the president. When the door slammed behind the last one Zapatero sat on his desk and put his head down. Spain was lost...

[El Provencion, Spain]
Smoke from the previous day's slaughter trickeled into the atmosphere from the burning roofs of houses and other buildings. Outside the village proper the crops directly bordering the urbanization had been slashed, rolled over, or simply pounded to destruction by the guns of the tanks which had fought the revolving battle of the day before. A years harvest had been destroyed in certain areas, although in no way was this lethal to the population of Spain. Of course, the men who owned said land, if not dead themselves, would face individual economic ruin, however, the individual meant nothing in the state to come, and their loss would be for the benefit of the state.

The streets of the village were desolate of civilians. Perhaps due to the string of tired soldiers, loitering by charred tank chassis, or street sides, cleaning their weapons, some even cleaning. Or, maybe due to the stench, so putrid that even the beasts of burden, accustomed to vile smell, refused to walk through the piles of dead. Regardless of cause, the village was not itself that day. But it was to be expected. Indeed, the largest battle since the Spanish Civil War had claimed the lives of hundreds, both Socialist and 'Nationalist'.

It was true, the death of the Nationalist in El Provencio, and the defeat of the Socialist armor at said town, had caused an uproar throughout Spain. Simply put, the country was no longer Zapatero's. His inability to see reason had caused the destruction of his largest armored formation, and because of his failures the military no longer trusted him. In fact, news had already spread that Castilla la Mancha, and the remaining units inside, including the remnants of the First Armored Fist, had surrendered to Catalan. More than that the government of Bilbao, hoping on the false promises of Catalan that they would regain their Basque independence, declared their own allegiance to the soon to be ruler of Spain. That gave Catalan the single largest industrial heartland of the old country, one that would be expanded upon his accension to power. Andalucia was in the midst of a revolution, throwing it into the arms of Catalan, and so was Leon. Galicia, Aragon and Catalunia had also declared allegiance to Catalan, hoping for the same independence the Basque Country solemnly relied on - one that would never arrive.

It was lost for Zapatero, and his left wing government. It had became obvious in the twenty-four hours after his crucial defeat at El Provencio. The armed forces he once directed were no longer under his command. They had mutinied two hours after their defeat at the small, but pivotal town, in the heart of Castilla la Mancha. The youth, once loyal to the PSOE, were disillusioned, left empty, that their government had been defeated. More and more of the youth was turning to Catalan as a hope for the future.

It was more important, though, that Spain was not going to fall into a second civil war. That the foreign world would see that was obvious. A man, like Franco, was rebelling. The Socialist would not thrown their democracy away. However, they had underestimated the Spanish people. Although there was wide support for the Socialist, there was more so for the conservatist. The wave of African and Arab immigrants had also sparked a torrent of hate, and a turn to the old ideals of Franco. That is what Catalan exploited. The hasty defeat of the Socialist army at El Provencio only sped the process of the coup up further.

Catalan had emerged victorious in all but official name. His wanderwaffe, produced in the depths of his fields, in massive subterranean complexes, as he claimed, was a farce. He had taken advantage of the old Soviet Union. His uncle, Heliodoro Catalan, had been an aspiring revolutionary for the Fifth Column, and after the immigration to Spain by Jonatan Catalan the latter took control of the business. All the assets Heliodoro had begun in the Soviet Union were imported by the Mafia, who were now millions richer, and in secret brought to bear to El Provencio, stored in sheds, covered with barley seeds. The old PP party had caught on, however, said nothing. Why would they? The Catalan revolutionaries were their key to keep the socialist out of the picture. But the PSOE had failed to realise, another piece of evidence of their general stupidity. Now they had suffered the brutal consequences.

[Madrid, Spain]
Zapatero, his face solemn, wrinkled from the frustration of the past few days, dusted off his jacket as he prepared for the camera man to finish the touches leading to his presentation. His hair was combed, his black suit impeccable. The president of Spain still felt uncomfortable. He looked straight into the camera, and the man said,"3,2,1, you're on."

Zapatero hesitated at first, and then a tear rolled down his cheek, and finally his face turned stern, and began his short speech,"My people, I have decided to resign from my post as president of Spain. I surrender Madrid to the mercy of Catalan. However, I do not speak for King Juan Carlos II, and he may continue the fight if he has the stamina. I have been backstabbed by our army, we cannot trust them. When I gave them order, they failed us. I have no other choice but to resign. The country, and its fate, is not left to the people."

The Russian people are uneasy as to whose side they should be on. Nothing is known of course, of Catalan's Mafiya connections, and little is known of Catalan's actual policy. He seems to be mainly supported by the people, and is a foe of socialism, so for now the government will not intervene. Catalan is warned that if he seizes power, he must call immediate elections, so the people of Spain may have a final say in the matter.

[The Outskirts of Madrid]
The convoy was suddenly stopped, but when Catalan turned to see what was going on his face was overturned by a sudden smile. Boys, garbed in black, marched down the colomn of cars, arms stretched in the usual style, flying Franco's flag of Spain. It was beautiful. But Catalan shrugged. He was not going to turn Spain into a corrupt fascist regime, he was going to turn it into an Empire. It would take time to change the mentality of the people however. Oh, how nationalism had ruined the face of power. He lowered his window and asked the lead boy, who seemed like the leader of the band,"What has happened?"

The boy turned to look and he himself cracked a smile, obviously proud to meet the fabled Catalan, saviour of Spain. He immediately responded,"Sir, Zapatero has surrendered. Madrid has no leadership. The king has fled north, possibly to France, although we know he's still in Spain as of now. The country is ripe for your taking."

Catalan nodded and continued,"Good. Very good, indeed."

He nodded to the boy and closed his window, the black tint providing a barrier from any more sight. The column continued towards the capital and within ten minutes had entered. The streets were empty. Nobody dares escape from their homes in the midst of a political coup. However, there was no danger. The Socialist movement had been crushed moralistically. Their leadership no longer existed. It was high time.

However, the message from Russia had come, quite to the concern of Catalan. An indecisive Russia aparently wanted to keep a democratic Spain. How quaint. But perhaps it was time for Catalan to home his diplomatic skills, however limited they actually were. He set off to send a sattelite data burst to Moscow, using the sattelites which had just come under his control:

To all whom this may concern,

Your concern over Spain is a bit confounding. Your request for the voice of the people has not gone unnoticed and I shall do my very best to complete this request. However, I must say, isn't the fact that the people have been behind me enough proof?

But we shall not quiver over small matters. I will further prove the people's allegiance towards me on your terms. The more important matter is the future of relations between the Russians and the new Spanish. I think, at least for myself, it would be profitable to indulge in talks with the Russian leadership, although I fear direct meetings will be impossible due to the simple fact that I have much work to do in Spain, including an economic burst.

Regardless of how, I would very much like to get in touch with Moscow.

[signed]Catalan

[Bilbao, Spain]
To: All Factory Managers
From: Jonatan

Further production of military weapons ordered by the old Spanish government has been stopped. You are to proceed to Plan A, the beginnings of the mass production of the new Spanish weaponry. Outlines of said weapons have already been sent through secure means into your hands. The age of Spanish re-armament has come. Spain shall no longer be weak, it shall be strong.

Moreover, be on the look out for more in your field. I have already ordered to invest a total of twenty billion American dollars into the creation of more factories, to further increase martial output by at least seventy-five percent. The increased spending in the military should create more jobs, which should jump-start the Spanish economy.

Remember, all rules concerning workers applies. I will not run a draconian law.
[signed]Jonatan

It was beginning. The Basque Country had been targetted to increase the number of factories dotting the fortified mountains of the area, once occupied by the resistance to Franco's rule. The age of Spanish economical superiority in Western Europe was unfolding. All it would take was to know the response of the other countries. However, Spain would make sure that it would be so. Andalucia was soon to also go through a massive re-forming, with factories springing up and down. Castilla la Mancha would go through the same, as well as Leon. Extremadura, on the border of Portugal, was to go through the same. It was a massive project, in the end to cost some thirty to forty trillion dollars. Of course, without foreign aid it would take at least three years to create an army of substantial size, and to propell Spain's economy to unforseen heights. However, in the mean time, the new model Spanish Army would not be something to scoff at.

[Cadiz, Spain]
The old Spanish air base was quite concealed in the heavily wooded region some four kilometers from the Spanish city, and naval base. The air base was still there, however, it would be scrapped by the new Catalan regime and turned into a joint air and ground base to provide a quick reaction force for possible action in Southern Spain. However, for now it would remain a concealed weapons testing area, of course, impervious to all but sattelites. However, the idea that it would be covered twenty-four seven by foreign sattelites was foolish, and so there was little chance that the specifics would escape into the world.

Four engineers stood side by side, white jackets reaching their feet, white hair carefully trimmed around their balding head. Beside them were a series of generals and other officers. Before them was the newest creation, the Munich Mobile Anti-Tank Vehicle. It was an unconventional design. It used what resembled the lower part of a tank chassis, but on top it had a strange sheet of metal, and behind it a twelve clip rocket launcher, much like a multipe rocket launch system. The thin layer of THYMONEL 8 was invisible to the human eye, but it was there. The shiny tips of Munich ATGM Fire and Forget rockets could be seen poking their head from the launcher. It was quite the beauty.

http://img166.exs.cx/img166/1010/antitank17ph.jpg

As if an act from above fire enveloped the vehicle, smoke pouring from the rear of the firing mechanism, hitting the floor and expanding to enshroud the area. The shriek of rockets split the molecules of the atmopsheres, reaching the ears of the engineers and officers like a shockwave. Within eye seconds all twelve Munich ATGM missiles had left the launcher, leaving it covered with a thick dark grey smoke, fire leaping from behind, hitting the protected rear of the vehicle. The rockets pounded through the sky, keeping a low skimming altitude, and soon their mark could be seen, an older Crusader tank bought for Spain's army at the death of Franco. The missiles struck into the old tank. It was over kill, but it was a ghastly, if beautiful sight. The once tank turned into a flaming ball, rising like a mushroom.

The generals and other officers applauded as the engineers nodded. A new day in age for the Spanish military had come.

http://img112.exs.cx/img112/8193/france2fo.gif
-For reference on border positions. This is not an invasion thread, and I don't plan an invasion any time soon for your out of character reference. It's just a defensive stance.

[Pamplona, Spain]
General de Division Arsenio Delasante, one of the few army officers loyal to Catalan since the beginning of the coup, looked please as he stared outside the window of his office into the depths of the tank park located fifteen kilometers north of Pamplona. Apart from the especially green grass and golden flowers which gave some life to the area he stared at his new, sparkling, armored division. It was in fact the only armored division. The older divisions, composed of the German, American and French technology had all been mothballed, ready for scrapping for the creation of the Spanish designs, which although perhaps equal, had a nationalistic value. One hundred fifty Panzerkampfwaggen XI BredtSvert were arrayed along the fields of the army base north of Pamplona, guns risen high. There was enough space between them to protect them from collective damage in case of an air raid, however, they were close enough for rapid deployment if needed. Their sparkling 120mm smoothbore cannons, taking the idea off the American Abrams in service for the Spanish army, pointing towards the sky, as if praising the heavans.

The division also had three brigade of mechanized infantry, giving a total of three thousand front line infantry. Thus, the armored division was also equipped with one hundred SOV-06 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, which also doubled for armored personnel carriers, as well as large trucks, since trucks were more readily available than SOV-06s, which were still in line to begin mass production.

However, the creation of the first armored division along the lines of the new model army designed for a greater Spain was a feat for the first week of Catalan's reign. It would help Catalan settle into power and it would put more force into Catalan's words once he crowned himself. It would also show Spain was not joking. The latter could either bring praise, or it could bring international disaster. Either way, it would revolutionize the world.

The base was fairly well defended, as the General recollected. Hidden amonst the forests which sorrounded it, as well as the various mountain tops, and hills, and even open along the base, were surface to air missiles batteries, missiles bristling from the sockets of their clips. Moreover, the base was dotted with land based close-in defense systems, first designed by the Americans for their ships, later transported onto land for the Chinese, and finally onto the hands of the Spaniards. Catalan hadn't gone to the Chinese for 'permission'. Frankly put, it wasn't needed. The technology for CIWS was open, and the act of putting it on land was simple - it resembled the Dutch Goalkeeper, something the entire world knew how to construct. So, such a simple design, provided such a devastating defense system. If the French decided to attack south the would find themselves in the midst of a very well placed defense.

Behind the general was Capitan General Dacio del Sol, the commander of Army Group North, the non-existant Spanish formation along the French border. Well, non-existant was an exxageration. As Madrid put it, "it was in the process of being deployed." Delasante turned around to meet the gaze of his superior, and del Sol, hunched over a map of the area, began to speak,"This is Pamplona. We have your armored division here. Within four weeks we will receive an infantry division as well. What worries me is the defense of the rest of the border. I have no guarantees that the French will not stick their noses in our borders. Damn! They are French, what would you expect? They think they own this word."

It wasn't a laughing matter, and Delasante knew that. He tried to remark on the situation,"According Catalan's previous directive, we are to receive reinforcements, including one hundred thousand infantry, spread through five divisions, a single corp, to occupy a line crossing the Pyrenees. This should be enough to stop a French attack. At least, slow it down."

del Sol nodded but continued,"Yes, you're right. Moreover, Catalan promised two entire armored armies here. That is, nine hundred of those new tanks, and countless other toys to play with. That should put up a fight against the French."

Delasante had to smile on that one. The possibilities of a French invasion were large. However, it would take at least two months for the French to transfer enough forces south to invade Spain, and that would give Spain just enough time to conjur an army strong enough to stop them. Put shortly, it would be a terrible mistake if the so called Louis xx decided to put Spain on his list of targets.

[Huesca, Spain]
The skies roared with the sound of the turbojets of Slachten and Canary fighters, circling above Huesca, waiting for their turn to land. Huescan would have to be expanded if it was to become one of the major northern airbases in the defense of Spain. Indeed, there were already plans to expand it by having a total of nine larger airstrips, and eight smaller ones. They could both be used by fighters, and the nine longer airstrips could be employed by a bomber force, which would become pivotal in any defense.

For the time being there weren't many aircraft present. Just three squadrons of Lu-05 Slachten Air Superiority Aircraft, meaning thirty-six aircraft, and two of Lu-12 Canary Strike Fighters, twenty-four of those. The French would most likely be able to sweep through it, however, like the ground forces, they could be assured that the fighters would put up more than their respective defense. The long MTAAM-3 Predator air to air missiles tucked underneat their wings proved that. With a RAMjet engine it got a velocity of Mach 3.5, with a range of some one hundred and eighty kilometers. It surely topped its Russian counterpart. Indeed, it was designed after it. The mafia sure had a way to make Catalan happy.

Ground crews on the bottom were many. Huescan was overstocked with maintenance crews, prepared for the influx of aircraft to come. Within the month it was expected that Huesca would house a total of eight Schlacten squadrons and six Canary squadrons. Moreover, three other airbases would host an identicle number of aircraft. These were Pamplona, Girona and Barcelona. Within two months the Northern Air Fleet would be amongst the strongest of Europe, prepared for any match in the skies.

It was truly only a matter of time.

[Olot, Spain]
The shrubbery extending alongside the many highways leading towards France could not conceal the amount of movement going through. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of large green and brown trucks, black tarmacs thrown over the top, slowly advanced north. Shouts of drivers and other personnel alike were barely drowned out by the drone of the motors, roaring in the morning's silence. The 5th Infantry Division had arrived.

The 5th Infantry Division, as well as the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th, were all fifth column enthusiastics, waiting to serve Catalan and his 'fascist' revolution. The fact that one hundred thousand soldiers, from eighteen to thirty years of age, had been mobilized was a feat of its own. They had gone through around three weeks of training, and on their deployment they would continue to train until war came upon them. They weren't the best of the best, but they were on their way. They had dropped the old Spanish rifle, known for its weight, but fairly good accuracy. Instead they adopted the Hali-37, which had been designed behind the Russian An-94, as well as the American M-16, making the Hali-37 top notch. Others were equipped with the Javelin rocket launcher style new Munich anti-tank guided missile, which had been previously tested on the Munich vehicle. The latter development wouldn't stick around. Spanish engineers were already working on a seperate variant for the Munich to make it less bullky, and more compatible with the infantry. In general they were well armed, however, their moral and their bravado would have to be tested on battlefields, although true to heart, right now Spain did not need a battlefield with France.

Behind the trucks were more trucks, this time with a peculiar look. They were self propelled 155mm artillery guns, such as the French Cesare and its Israeli counterpart, which were the original designs of which the Spanish had taken their own design off. However, unlike its predecessor, the Spanish variant of the 155mm had an extra set of heavy hydraulics in the back, allowing the rear to lift, and thus allow the muzzle of the gun to sit about half a meter above the top of the crew compartment of the truck, allowing its users to depress the gun at a level where it becomes an effective tank killing machine, much like the 88mm FLAK gun during the Second World War. The government had been willing to deploy one thousand of said guns along the French border directly north of Olot.

The Spanish people would be prepared for the French invasion, if it came. It was strange that such anomosity could be conjured when the French had paid little attention to Spanish happenings. However, there had been warnings from other foreign governments that the alliance between France and Belarus proved to be quite conceited. The possibilities of a French invasion of Spain were large - the Spanish would not allow yet another occupation of their country by France.


[Madrid, Spain]
1200 hours Spanish Time: Television Española

"Greetings people of Spain," Catalan cleared his throat,"I come to you today to announce the new Spanish government. Throughout the next week the polls will be readied for the voting process. There will be a few choices, including a candiate from the Partido Popular (PP), as well as I, for the Partido Imperial (PI). I do not doubt your abilities to make the best choice, and so I will not stress any importance today. The fate of this country is in your own hands, and it is your own task to judge the many candidates who have confronted you with their plans for a new Spain.

I," he stopped, then continued,"I saw the possibilties of a Spain greater than it was before. The Socialist were destroying the face of Spain, and I saw this, and I took action. To vote for democracy is a vote for left-wing oppression. I know you understand this, I only hope that is how your vote translates itself this sunday. Spain cannot go on being a third rate power, being barely first world. It must grab the world by the reins and ride it. Spain, under my rule, shall become the power of the world.

Viva España, viva el imperio, viva el pueblo!"

The television feed flickered off. A new world order was just a step away.

[Vergara, Spain]
The rolling, green, fields of the coastal plains of the Basque Country met with th town of Vergara. Just on the horizon were the large mountains of the Cordillera Cantabrica. Smoke rose from the rooftops of Vergara. It was an industrial pentagon, and it was getting larger. Frames of new factories, all going towards military production, could be seen standing up, waiting for the layer of bricks which would complete it.

The manager of the old Pegaso industry, which had began the construction of Spanish military trucks anew, as well as armore and other vehicles, sat outside his main factory building talking to the manager of the specific building. He looked at the sky, as if pondering something, and then continued to talk,"The government has invested billions upon billions in new armaments."

The other man nodded and said,"Yes, should be good for us, no? In any case, I fear that the government will face something like Nazi Germany sixty years ago."

His superior scrunched his face, confused,"And that is?"

The other responded,"Well, our country is going to become fairly wealthy, and our military potent. However, what will do with this military? It will have nowhere to go. In two to three years if we do not go on the offensive our industry will stall and we will move back into the state we were before. I don't think our government has plans to expand the industry for the civilian consumer, which is the important part. When it comes time to rely on the civilians, we won't be ready."

His superior nodded in agreement and then stated,"Well, I trust in Catalan."

They both put out their cigaretted, shook hands, and parted ways.

[A Week Later...]

[Television Española]
The camera zoomed in on the anchorman, staring solemnly towards the camera, and he put down the sheet of paper in front of him. There was no grin, no pleasure, no solace. The liberals had been defeated, Spain was to turn into yet another Empire. He took a few seconds to collect himself and finally began the report,"Hola España. Today, it is my duty to announce that the people of Spain have elected Jonatan Catalan to lead this nation throughout the future. Although it is considered a loss for democracy, all we interviewed call this day the most glorious day of Spain, surpassing even the reunion of Spain in 1492.

What is strange about Catalan's victory, is that the people did not elect him president. Like Napoleon III in France, Catalan has been elected Emperor of the Spanish Empire. The Catalan dynasty now rules supreme. The coronation will take place tomorrow, and we will be there to give you a full coverage of the event. Jonatan Catalan is to be our first Emperor since the fall of the Hapsburg Dynasty three hundred years before. What this will bring is currently unknown, but we can all home that it is for the best.

In his victory speech Catalan has claimed that Spain will rise to be the greatest power ever seen, and that Spain will once again be the bastion for the defense of absolutism, and western culture. It is rumored that his main policies have already been outlined and that they will be implemented once he gains his crown tomorrow.

The ex-king of Spain, Juan Carlos II, has abdicated his throne in accordance to the wishes of the people. There have been rumors that he is planning to escape to Greece, however, Catalan has extended his hand to Juan Carlos and offered the ex-king of Spain his palace, so that his family can live in the rest of their lives. Significantly, Principe the Asturias, Phillipe de Bourbon, fled to Greece, without his father, in order to create the 'true government of Spain.' Catalan has not said anything on the matter just yet, however, his actions are expected to be stern and harsh.

We will keep track of the subject, and see how things play out. This has been Television Española. Thank you."

The television feed fizzled out. The 'liberal' Television Española was not to report back. It had been shut down. In its place would rise another owner of the company, and slowly, but surely, the media was going back into the hands of the government. Truly, a new dawn had struck Spain.

[Almudena Cathedral, Madrid, Spain]
http://www.danceformsproductions.com/Catedral%20de%20la%20Almudena.JPG

Garlands of flowers were worn around the heads of the guests who looked down upon the red carpet, embroidered with gold, leading to the heavy set wooden doors of the Almudena Cathedral. The visitors who came to watch the coronation of their soon to be Emperor yelled and some even kept their arms in a prolonged stiff arm salute, keeping the fascist style mentality that had first been kindled during Catalan's revolution and coup de etat. Spanish flags, with and without the monarchy's emblem, waved in the air, the wind only helping in the oscilation of the flags. Red and yellow melted together as they moved, to create a beautiful contrast against the bright blue skies, with a tad of white clouds. Children, women and men were all present at the ceremony, waiting to see their saviour, their future.

It came in the form of a convoy of cars. A single BredtSvert main battle tank rolled through the streets, earning quite a few ows and aws from the crowd. Behind it was Catalan's car, a black Audi A8, and behind that another BredtSvert. On the hood of each vehicle, including the tanks, were two of the newer Spanish flags, totally white, with a double headed imperial eagle, such as Franco's, in the center. It would be the flag the victims of Spain saw on their deathbed. The black car stopped right next to the beginnings of the red carpet, and the cheuffer stepped out of his seat, and moved quickly to open the door for Catalan. Slowly, gracefully, the man stepped out, his height imposing his powers - all six feet and one inch of it. He was dressed in a white military suit, much like those of Imperial Russia, with medals neatly rowed upon his chest. Perhaps too many for a man his age, without any military service. Most likely all self-rewarded.

But it didn't matter to those around him. They cheered for their leader. People in desperation would vote for anyone. The socialist regime had provided the desperation. Now, Spain was an Empire once again.

Catalan moved down the red carpet, the wooden doors of the Cathedral opening before his eyes, slowly. He stepped through the portal of the Cathedral, which wasn't much. The Catholic Cathedrals of the North and South were all built in the French Gothic Style. Almudena followed a more plain Spanish colonial style, quite romanesque. However, for its rudementary facade it was still wonderful in its own right. The darkness of the inside lit up as he entered, and his closest friends, and closes foes, sat in row upon row of wooden seats, reaching from the altar, to the transept, to the rear. At least two thousand dignitaries from Spain, and perhaps some from other parts of the world, although no foreign leader had yet welcomed Catalan to the area of world rulers. He shrugged. They would soon learn to respect Catalan.

He walked proudly through the string of people and to the front of the altar, where the cardinal, head of the Cathedral, nodded to him and passed him a waifer. Catalan put it in his mouth and let it soak. He had always been confused on what to do with the waifer. Some wanted it to be eaten, others wanted it to be soaked. But it wouldn't matter. The Cardinal wouldn't dare cross Catalan, and Catalan knew it. He moved to kneel and the Cardinal blessed himself, hitting the four points of the cross on his chest, and Catalan did the same. The room fell silent as the Cardinal spread his hands and began to chant in Latin, the same chant that had been dictated upon Fernando de Aragon and Isabel de Castilla. It would take an hour to complete, Catalan still kneeling, and the Cardinal going on, but it was all tradition.

Finally, the Cardinal, powers bestowed from Rome, walked back and unsheathed a silver blade. Kissing it to bless it again he placed it on the left shoulder of Catalan and then moved it slowly to his right. Finally he lifted the sword and tapped it on Catalan's head. A small smile appeared on Jonatan's face but he didn't have time to complete it as the Cardinal untucked a golden crown, filled with jewels, the rarers in the world, and placed it on the head of Catalan. The Cardinal took the hand of Jonatan and said,"In the name of God, you have been declared Emperor of Spain."

It had been done. Spain was an Empire, an Empire which would last an eternity.

The rise of facism in Spain sets off alarms in every Hindustani. Beth Gellert is immediately contacted and their opinion is asked. Should we crush this facist rebellion or would it overstretch our logistical capacity and bring valuable forces too close to the holy league? Should we wait until the facists do something incriminating?

In a rare communique to Louis XX's authority, the popular congress states its uneasiness over Louis's methods of governance but goes on to say that Hindustan would support France, possibly militarily, should it find itself in a pickle with the Spanish facists.

[Ceuta, Spain]
The final testament to Spanish imperial power manifested itself in two Spanish North African cities, Ceuta and Melilla. Both cities sat on the northern coast of Morocco, and both gave Spain more control over the Gibraltar. Once, before the death of Franco in the early 1970s, all of the Tangiers Strip had been Spain's, and Spain had controlled the Gibraltar. At least it would have, had her Bourbon allies, the French, not failed to defeat the British and British allies during the War of Spanish Succession. Nevertheless, Spain had lost her glory days, however, the new Emperor, Jonathan I, was estatic to complete them again.

Indeed, the old warships that the old Spanish democracy had placed in the defense of Ceuta, after the Moroccon 'invasion' of Perejil some years ago, were gone. In their place were four new warships, four Manstein class Destroyers, named after perhaps the most illustrated German commander of the Second World War. To the front of the ship the four main twelve inch guns bristled in the bright sunlight shining from the heavens, as they pointed menacingly towards the inland. To their rear, four eight inch guns aimed towards the sea, wary of the amphibious invaders which had always plagued the shores of Spain. The four destroyers weren't much, but they were the beginnings of a new Spanish Imperial Armada, the seventh of its kind. Yes, Phillip II, the man who had failed to conquer Elizabeth and her England, had built six different armadas, and had been defeated six different times. This time the Emperor would make sure the same didn't befall the new Spanish fleet.

Within two years the Spanish fleet, although perhaps not as powerful as thouse around her, would put the older one to shame. The Principe de Asturias, the only Spanish carrier, and in fact an escort carrier, was to be mothballed, scrapped, and replaced by not one, not two, but three Model class Aircraft Carriers, which was a larger design than the Nimitz, but also a slower design. Moreover, although the age of the dreadnought was said to pass, the Armada had ordered the construction of five of the newer Elusive class Battleships. In order to provide various fleet protection the government had also put on the list four Raus class Escort Carriers, thirty Manstein class Destroyers, ten Seydlitz class Cruisers, ten Clauswitz class Frigates, forty fast assault craft, and at least another one hundred assorted shipping. It eclipsed most of the older European fleets, however, the new states of Europe had most likely also expanded their fleets. Perhaps the most important asset in construction were fifty Toledo class SSNs, said to be as advanced, or perhaps more so, than the American Virginia class SSN. They were to be built in secret, and placed in newly contructed subterranean pens in Cadiz, situated in southern Spain.

But, perhaps the most important military development in Spain was the transfer of the entire Tercio, or Spanish Foreign Legion, to Ceuta. The Spanish Foreign Legion was the only pre-Catalan military formation still in existance, and untouched. Therefore, Ceuta was to be occupied by a full seven thousand front line soldiers, who were reportedly the best of the best. Moreover, the government had opted to not reinforce the French border with the newly mobilized, and still training, 2nd Infantry Corp, but instead put on strategic reserve in the Gibraltan Peninsula, especially in port areas, facing the coast of Morocco. The 3rd Armored Corp was also reported to be moving south by rail, destined to be deployed in the Gibraltan Peninsula, for further deployment across the Straits of Gibraltar.

Ceuta was beautiful, and it looked more like a tourist attraction, with its blue, clean, beaches, and it's tall white hotel resorts. It was a stark contrast to the rundown Moroccon cities who suffered from a despotic leadership and a martial society, with a poor economy. However, it's once resort ridden skyline was now filled with the shapes of black UH-60A Black Hawk transport helicopters, moving the Legion to the city. The shock of the soundwaves spread through the air, and the gentle swish of the main rotor settled upon the city, all making quite a bit of noise. Ceuta would soon look more like a military base than a city. The border had traditionally been cut off by a tall electrical fence, however, the new government had taken it one step further and had spread throughout the area Soviet designed PMD-6M antipersonnel mines, as well as TMK-2 anti-tank mines. The former were designed around a wooden box with a hinged lid, a block of TNT, and a pull fuze. The box was fairly large, at least enough to contain a 200 gram charge of TNT. When the pressure forced the lid down, the safety pin would withdraw from the fuze, and the TNT would exlode, making it a direct-contact mine. The latter, the TMK-2 anti-tank mine, was a shaped-charge antitank mine which consists of a double-truncated, conical-shaped mine body with a shaped charge in the lower half. It has an adjustable-length, tilt-rod fuze attached to a holder on the side of the mine. The TMK attacks the bellies of tanks and other armored vehicles. Normally, it is buried in the ground leaving only the tilt rod exposed. The combination of the both would make a frontal assault on Ceuta a very dangerous thing.

To anybody that knew the full extent of the Spanish deployment to Ceuta it would seem more than a defensive procedure. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. Like all things, it would take time to tell.

[Melilla, Spain]
Three fairly tall, dark skinned men, garbed in full military dress, looking like something that came out of the American Delta Force, prepared their hansome array of weapons outside the barbed wire which protected the Spanish territory. The commander of the team, Sergeant Altaf Shuz, was a trained specialist, although Spanish by nationality since he had been born in Melilla. Although he was Arabic, and followed the Islamic religion, he had grown to be a Spanish nationalist, and had been a believer of the notion that a Spanish Morocco would be a free Morocco and a wealthy Morocco. It was a sort of union between his two home countries. The two men beside him, Corporal Meza Fardarr Abury, and Private First Class Hatehd Fasfa Eisbas, were others of his kind. They were a rare specimen, but they had been found by the Spanish government, for better or for worse, and trained, for over three years.

Their original training had been completed because the old Spanish government had wanted to use them as operatives into Morocco. Threat of war with the African nation had always existed, and this was one way to get into their minds. However, with the coup by Jonathan I completed the three men would have a totally different task. One that could not have been imagined.

Shuz took a look at his watch, a hue of beige to blend in with his uniform, and then nodded to his two companions. They all got up and sported their weapons, tucking them in certain locations. Each carried a standard AKM, used because that was what the Moroccons used. They also carried the standard Soviet 9 x 18mm PM, a side arm pistol. Each also boasted three grenades, and a single pack of explosives. It was a well armed team, and they knew how to use the weapons given to them. Shuz shuddered, thinking about what he was about to do. His men knew, but they preferred not to think about it.

They began to creep towards the barbed wire electrical fence of Melilla, wary of mines. They had received plots of mine locations and were shown safe passage through the area, but they were still nervous. It took about six minutes to traverse through the mine fields without being detected by the guards, always keeping low, sometimes on their stomachs, but they reached the fence at last. Corporal Meza Fardarr Abury took out his grenade from his side pouch and placed it right under a link of the fence, resting against the desert floor, and motioned for the others to part. They all did so about about eight seconds later a flash of red, and an occasional orange, spread through the fence, followed by a loud boom. All three waited for the smoke to part and then finally witnessed the fairly large hole in the fence. However, the grenade had also served to forewarn the guards of the breach.

The ear piercing silence was exchanged for an ear piercing siren, wailing in the background, warning of the suspected Moroccon attack. From the concrete guard posts bright spotlights scoured over the area, but none of them were able to target the three men, who by now had traversed the chain link fence. Then tragedy struck. A 7.92mm flechette round struck Private First Class Hatehd Fasfa Eisbas in the stomach, and the automated flechetted moved right into his bloodstream, poisoning him immediately, and killing him. After a short gag, and blood spurts leaving his open mouth, he fell, white eyes rolled into his head, dead onto the dessert floor below him. The others paid no attention, and continued. The sergeant muttered,"What the hell are they doing to us?"

It wouldn't matter. From a concrete emplacement a spotlight had caught site of them, the white light drowing them out. A machine gune sputtered in the distance and rounds began to ricochet off the nearby brush and rocks, forcing the two men to put their hands over their heads in an effort to protect themselves from the bouncing bullets. Within a couple of seconds the machine gun stopped and then let out another short burst, and finally stopped again. The two men were still alive.

A red flare shot through the night sky, highlighting the starry heaves above, and sending an abstract streak of red light for all to see. Shuz looked up and gave a couple of hand signals to his partner, Corporal Meza Fardarr Abury, and they both began to head out. The directive he had received had told him to leave the area immediately after a red flare had been fired. He looked perplexed. Why all the weaponry? Regardless, he threw a grenade towards the fence and it blew giving them an escape route. Moving fast while the machine gun six hundred yards away blew the area around them with 7.92mm machine gun rounds. Quickly they crawled their way out of the city and back into Morocco and began their escape west.

They had been told to wait for a rubber craft off a random Moroccon beach which would take them to a patrol craft waiting for them. There they would be taken as 'prisoners', although the rest of the world wouldn't know, and sent back to Melilla where they would return to their units.

Something strange was happening.

[Straits of Gibraltar]
The MMA-D1 Gull reconaissance aircraft swept low under the protection of Spanish RADAR situated on the Spanish coastline. The aircraft was clearly inside Spanish airspace and it on a mere routine flight to protect the coasts of Spain. It was flying at a subsonic level, perhaps no more than three hundred kilometers per hour, keeping it slow, while it's RADAR disc above the frame of the aircraft emmitted its radio waves to complete it's airborne warning and control duties. Small puffs of white smoke left its turbojets as they shrieked in the night sky.

From a location which could not totally be pinpointed a bright red spark ripped through the area as a Soviet SA-2 Guideline, in service with the Moroccon army despite their age, left its fairly large launcher. It was a radar guided missile, and worked in two stages, most likely driver by the Soviet designed FAN SONG fire control radar, on a seperate soft skinned vehicle, or ship. As it moved at at least Mach 1, breaking the sound barrier, it locked onto the small Gull aircraft and finally struck into its wing, triggering the high explosive warhead which it carried. The plane was engulfed in a bright white light and a plume of dark grey smoke took its place as remaining scraps fell to the silent waters below. There were, most likely, no survivors.

About ten minutes later two Lu-12 Canary Strike Fighters screamed overhead, skimming the seas with their powerful Spanish built RADAR and LIDAR equipment. There had to be something out there launching and directing the missiles. It took about five minutes but the two aircraft finally found their foe. It was a small patrol craft, which looked nothing like a Moroccon, or Spanish, patrol craft, but along its hull it had a painted Moroccon flag with a Moroccon designation.

Without warning each Lu-12 electrically released a single Shockhound Avenger anti-shipping missiles each from their wings and then peeled off. The two missiles were fire and forget and they sea-skimmed the surface of the Straits with their hybrid rocket and RAMjet engines, keeping at around twenty feet above the surface of the waters, toward the 'enemy' ship. They locked on to the rudimentary hull of the patrol craft and began the final phase towards the ship. Travelling at around Mach 3.6 they reached their target within seconds, one hitting the bridge, and the other hitting the deck. The bridge was knocked off in a heavy explosion, marked by the triggering of the missile's main 400kg OctaNitroCubane warhead, while the deck was pierced by the eight thermite 'wings' which detached from the main missile to blast through before the main warhead hit. Regardless, the second missile hit the deck seconds after burning through into the center of the craft, where it blew its 400kg OctaNitroCubane warhead, ripping the hull apart. The fires got to the magazine compartment and within thirty second the patrol craft no longer existed, except certain parts.

By then the Lu-12 Canaries were already making their landing procedures back into Cadiz.

"This is very very very bad!"
"Prepare all forces for possible military action! Contact Beth Gellert! We must move to curtail this new imperialism before it engulfs North Africa!"

While it is generally agreed on by Hindustani commanders that in India and Central Asia the Hindustani armed forces have a large advantage in training and equipment, the problem has always been force projection. While the popular congress would have loved to go right over and land a few rockets on Catalan, they could not because the military's overseas logistics base is so rickety.

But the same is not true for Beth Gellert. If there's one nation that can defend against the new Imperialist threat, its the Igovians.

But just to be safe, the HDF plans to aquire enough relatively new fighter aircraft to take care of the fact that the airforce has mabye as many liscence-built Viggens as Quinntonia has F-15s and F-22s.

[OOC: I haven't actually invaded anything yet. I'm going to write up a public message soon enough. The basic idea is that I set up the Moroccon government, and painted them as the agressors. The ship in the Gibraltar wasn't theirs. It was technically Spanish, but with Moroccon markings and weapons. So, the Moroccon government wouldn't exactly feel itself attacked at this point. Perhaps a little bit confused at seeing a red glow over the waters of the Straits.]

Leaked Document Concerning the Moroccon Incident
On [insert day] [insert month], [insert year], the city of Melilla was attacked by at least three elite Moroccan soldiers, belonging to some sort of special operations group. Moreover, a Spanish reconaissance aircraft flying over the Straits of Gibraltar was downed by a Moroccan launched SA-2 Guideline surface to air missile, launched from a patrol craft inside Spanish waters. There is overwhelming evidence which pinpoints the state of Morocco as the origin of the attacks, therefore, acting belligerently against the Empire of Spain. Such attacks are considered acts of war according to Spanish Foreign Policy, and indeed any other foreign policy around the world.

Melilla:

Post-action re-construction has lifted the body of a dead Moroccan soldier. The soldier was armed with an AKM, a 9mm Soviet style PM Pistol, three grenades, and a pack of explosives. Papers on his body were not forged and give away his nationality as Moroccan. Moreover, all insignia, as well as his uniform in general, is Moroccon. Therefore, we only conclude that the men present during the attack on Melilla were Moroccon special operation soldiers, armed and dangerous, aiming towards the death of several Spanish soldiers.

The attack on Melilla can only be classified as a probe attack for further Moroccon attacks on Melilla, and we can only surmise that similar machinations have been drawn upon Ceuta.

The said attacks are to be considered acts of terrorism by the Spanish State, as outlined in the post-March 11th,2005, charter. Therefore, the Spanish Empire has all the right to declare war, and wage a prolonged war against the State of Morocco.

The Gibraltan Incident:

The SA-2 Guideline was a Soviet supplied missile to Morocco. Although the Moroccan army does have a batch of PAC II missiles and newer Soviet missiles the SA-2 has been confirmed as Moroccon. Several inscriptions on the re-construction of the missile prove that. Moreover, no Spanish vehicle, fixed site, or ship, wields the SA-2.

This is further underscored by the fact that the launcher, an older variant Moroccon patrol craft, carried Moroccan markings, and a now dead Moroccan crew. The destruction of the Moroccan patrol craft by Spanish aircraft is not to be considered an act of war, although the downing of the reconaissance aircraft is, and instead should be considered a quick retaliation for the Morrocan strike. Again, this second attack on Spain should be considered, and will be considered, government sponsored terrorism.


For those reasons, the government has opted to release yet another document which will be released to the public by 1200 hours Zulu Time.


----------

Document Concerning Foreign Policy Towards Morocco
Because of the attacks on Melilla and the Spanish reconaissance aircraft the Spanish state sternly warns Morocco of future agression against Spain. Moreover, Madrid demans the payment of the damages down, including payment of the families of the lost pilots (two of them) of the MMA-D1 Gull Reconaissance aircraft. Furthermore, we demand an apology from the Moroccan Administration.

Should these demands not be meant we will find ourselves in a state of war. Moreover, should Morocco decide wise for future agression we will not be as merciful as we were this time.

[Official Response from Rabat, Morocco: 0400 hours]
Concerning Spanish Ultimatum

The dual attacks on Melilla and in the Gibraltar were not masterminded by the Moroccon government. It is blatantly obvious that it was a set up, either by the Spanish government, or by a private organization. For this reason we absolutely refuse to apologize or pay reperations. In short, we will not take responsibility for something we did not do.

We must stress to Emperor Jonathan I to re-think his policies. We do not wish to provoke the Spanish Army, and we understand the anger all of the Spanish people must feel. However, we will not suffer injustices on our sovereignty.

Thank you,

[Border of Ceuta : 0400 hours]
The road leading to Ceuta was clogged with Moroccon vehicles, from the defensive emplacements, all the way back to logistical headquarters. The smog of Soviet and American produced gasoline engines slowly diffused through the air, spreading a vile stench. In all actuality, the Moroccon army was little prepared for even the most minor deployment, and this proved it. However, it was a necessary step taken by the government, at least in their own view.

Just two companies of T-72s and a single company of Abrams were moving to deploy. The seventy-two tanks were more than the Spanish had in the area, but apart from the M1A2 Abrams, the tanks were by and far outdated. They clinked across and slowly made their way to their determined location of deployment. Contraty to armored defensive doctrine and theory, the three tank companies were organized in a single area, some three hundred meters behind the Moroccon infantry, as if preparing for an offensive.

There were three infantry regiments, amounting to around seven thousand frontline personnel, armed with standard AMKs, which were improved variants of the Ak-74, as well as 7.42mm, along with 12mm heavy machine guns. As with the tanks there was also a bit of American made weaponry. As anti-tank weapons the infantry carried the now obsolete Dragon anti-tank TOW missile launcher, which in the United States had been replaced by the Javelin. In Spain, it had first been replaced by a batch of imported Javelins, which were in turn exchanged for the Franco-German Milan, and now replaced by the fully Spanish Ebro and Munichs. Nonetheless, armed Moroccons were still a threat to Spanish lives.

Other vehicles wheeling towards the border were Soviet supplied SA-2 Guideline surface to air missile batteries, huge warheads inclined at a certain angle. They looked indenticle to the SA-2 which had attacked and destroyed the Spanish MMA-D1 Gull Reconaissance aircraf over the Gibraltar. Their RADAR fire and control vehicles rolled along beside them, FAN SONG RADAR arrays scanning the sky. The SA-2 was dangerous, but against something like the F-22 or Rafale, and especially the Lu-05s and Lu-12s of Spain, it was more or less worthless. Of course, the infantry sported their own SA-7 MANPADS, although these too would falter against the fighter aircraft.

There were around ten self-propelled howitzers, obviously the American 155mm vehicles. The Spaniards had also used them, but had exchanged them for the more versatile KriGud 155mms, which had incorporated American, South African, and Soviet technology. Regardless, these actually were top of the line equipment, if a bit malappropriated.

All around the deployment was especially larger for a "defensive procedure." Moreover, a similar deployment was forming outside Melilla. In Northern Morocco a gargantuan deployment had formed as well, eclipsing that of Ceuta. It was certainly strange.

[Spanish response: 0600 hours]
We refuse to hold a diplomatic overture with a Morocco who in turn refuses to take responsibility for something which was obviously their own doing. The banality of the Moroccon reponse, and the general lack of concern, sparks apathy in our own government towards Morocco. Moreover, the deployments made towards Spanish owned territory was startled us. We fear that a possible war between the two Gibraltar states is inevitable. However, we refuse to be the belligerent party.

[Ceuta: 0800 hours]
The sun was still changing to bright yellow, orange and red painting the sky in an early morning glare. The chirp of North African birds ringed in the ears of Moroccon and Spanish soldiers. The buzz of the electrical fence undermined the overall peaceful setting, which was soon to be erased completely. Then, it was completely drowned out by the noise of motors, coming from the Moroccon side of the thin red line. In the horizon, the low, rumbling, drone of aircraft got closer. The conglomeration of noise could only mean impending violence.

On the Spanish side of the fence a Sea Serpent helicopter, operating off the Phillipe II, a Manstein class Destroyer, hovered over the rear part of the city. The small disc over the cockpit emmitted radio waves along a broadband, meaning different wavelengths. The pilot, lieutenant Pedro Alvarez, looked on his small LCD screen over his right eye, hooked up to his helmet, which was similar to the Apache fire and control helmet. His weapons control officer sitting snugly behind him whistled. Alverez tapped into his microphone, "Hotel-six to Papa-one. Two bogies coming at nine hundred knots."

The two incoming aircraft were F-15 strike fighters, perhaps the most exported American aircraft in history, except perhaps the lend-lease aircraft of the Second World War. They were flying low, but at twenty kilometers off they were illuminated by the Spanish RADAR. Then they banked and peeled to head back west. They were either circulating the area in preperation, or attempting to provoke the Spanish.

While the F-15s took the attention of the Spaniards, a single Moroccon soldier, crouched low, with a roll of dynamite in hand, charged up to the fence and placed the pack of TNT right under the chain links. He stepped back and turned around, running towards his lines, feet pounding against the desert sands. Behind him an explosion ripped through the fence, lifting churcned sand and debris into the air, with a blinding white flash taking the place of the fence. Similar explosions rippled across the fence in a murderous fashion. The dust settled, and the new scene showed huge gaps in the fence, with pieces of metal strewn over the area.

The F-15s were coming back, but this time the Spanish wouldn't watch them peacefully. On the decks of the Phillipe II one of the huge Praetorian batteries lifted its angle, using the powerful hydraulics at its disposal. From the back, fire spilt onto the armored decks of the Manstein, spreading over the protected plates. All the while two Praetorian V surface to air missiles left the "holsters" using an electrical charge, and a polymer explosive propellant, to ignore the fuel booster. Within three seconds the system's RAMjet began to take in subsonic airflow and accelerated. At the altitude of the two F-15s the missiles would hit at Mach 3.6. The two Praetorian Vs already had a lock on their RADARs, so the SM-Gaussian transmitter began to relay information through infra-red LIDAR, giving it augmented accuracy.

The two fighters, obviously shaken at the quick response, banked and released a cloud of chaff and infra-red flares. The two missiles shrieked right through the decoys. The two F-15s burst in a flash of light, leaving a red dust cloud behind, as scraps of metal fell to the ground.

Below, the Moroccon armor, all fitted in a nice pack, began to race through to the fence. One of the tanks hit the antenna of one of the anti-tank mines. The mine detonated, launching a HEAT, or shaped, charge into the belly of the T-72 which had accoustically set it off, ripping off the turret, which collapsed beside the knocked out tank. A second detonation, the magazine, turned the tank into a charred, twisted, wreck. Breaking up the flow it would help the Spanish anti-tank gunners with their target practice.

As more tanks became prety of Spanish mines the Moroccon howitzers lifted their 155mm cannons. Immediately, ten rounds left their muzzles, and screamed towards their targets. Using sattelite feed the Moroccons had pinpointed the Spanish concrete emplacements. The shells failed to penetrate the encasements, but they did shake up everything inside.

As the howitzers continued pounding the Spanish defenses the five destroyers, with their larger guns pointed inwards, began to blast the enemy batteries in counter battery procedures. After each salvo the water lifted in massive waves, moving out towards the shores of Ceuta. The shells shrieked over the rooftops, sending shockwaves through the city. The horizon rippled with flashes of explosions. A dark red glow settled over the battlezone, fires burning amock.

The armor pushed across the border, and once they traversed, the different tanks split up to create a broad wall of armor. From the emplacements a single Ebro anti-tank guided missile forged a path through the air. It was a fire and forget missile, just like its counterparts, the Javelin and Milan. Using a grid, composed in seconds by the bulky launcher, it locked on to its target, emitting a lIDAR pulse to keep track of its target. It hit the frontal plate armor of a M1A2 Abrams tank, and exploded into the round compartment, destroying the tank from the inside. Whaaang. Another tank was knocked out.

Through the curtain of steam, radiating off the knocked out tanks, the Moroccon army continued rushing the Spanish defenses in an almost murderous frontal assault. They had caught the Spaniards by suprise, and it showed. Admist at least a dozen destroyed armored vehicles, one of the tanks stuck its barrel inside the horizontal firing slot of the emplacement. The tank shuddered and a flash filled the inside. The noise of the explosion drowned out the screams of the dead. One by one the first line of defenses fell, taken out by the armor. Regardless of their success, the price had been high. The ten howitzers were now motionless in their firing emplacements, destroyed by the destroyers in the harbor of Ceuta. At least ten T-72s were knocked out, as well as four Abrams. Nonetheless, at least fifty Spanish infantry were dead, and over one hundred now prisoners of war.

While the Spaniards woek up to the early morning explosions the destroyers depreciated their guns to pound the enemy armored spearhead. Bulbs of fire rose through the area, burning everything alive. The pounding of the shells caused earthquake like shockwaves, shaking up the houses and hotel rooms.

Behind the tanks, rolling explosions marked the advance of the Moroccon infantry. They were hitting the anti-personnel mines. They got through, although with heavy loss of life. They trudged behind the armor, AKMs at the ready. The resistance, however, was weak. Within ten minutes, after taking the defensive line, the Moroccons assault force had reached the outskirts of the city.

The destroyers fell silent, scared of hammering civilians, but the subsequent Spanish counterattack was ferocious. A single Munich mobile anti-tank vehicle targetted sixteen different pieces of armor. Within eight seconds sixteen Munich ATGMs had left the 'clip', and raced towards their targets. The field blew as all missiles hit their subjects, sending scraps of ceramic composites, and metal, through the air. The Foreign Legion began excessive counterattacks, striking at the Moroccon force in probes. Both sides lsot dozens of lives, but the Spanish fire power finally succeeded in forcing the Moroccons to begin the withdrawl of their armor, which had lost at least thirty percent casualties.

The infantry continued, taking the lead, and forcing their way to the buildings. By occupying them they would ignite a house to house clash. From windows Spanish light machineguns let loose waves of 7.62mm flechetted rounds. The flechette would break apart before impact, entering the blood stream of the victim, and kill him immediately. Bullets flew back and forth, Islamic warriors were killed by the dozens. The bodies of the dead littered the wake of the Moroccon advance.

It would be a blood soaked battle...

The Russian government is yet again, absolutely, positively flabbergasted at events in Spain. First some random American youth crowns himself emperor, and now this? All appearances indicated the Morrocans were the aggressors, but why?

No government statement is sent out, but a team of Spetsnaz has been secretly deployed to Gibraltar by helicopter, for observation...

The Russian government is yet again, absolutely, positively flabbergasted at events in Spain. First some random American youth crowns himself emperor, and now this? All appearances indicated the Morrocans were the aggressors, but why?

No government statement is sent out, but a team of Spetsnaz has been secretly deployed to Gibraltar by helicopter, for observation...


[OOC: "Secretely", but by helicopter...very bad combo, but no worries, I wouldn't risk war with Russia because of some choppers. In any case, a political reason Morocco would attack Spain is:

Basically, Morocco has always wanted Ceuta and Melilla back, and even the PSOE (just recently in RL) absolutely refused the official return (stating that the British still owned the Gibraltar, so the only way the deal could be processed is if the British returned the Gibraltar). I don't exactly remember what year, but the Spanish owned island of Perejil, just off the coast of Morocco, and no larger than 1/10 of a kilometer long, was 'invaded' by three drunk Moroccons. Over that, Morocco was one decision away from war, and they said they would have declared war had there not been other factors involved, including U.S. miltary and civilian trade. However, Morocco was nothing to lose against attacking Spain, because it's not like Spain is going to annex them - not in this day in age - so Madrid is always afraid that Morocco is going to attack Ceuta, that's why they have semi-large pockets of troops, and heavy defenses, around their two 'colonies'.

Just an idea though.]

[Battle of Ceuta]
The smoke of the previous hour's fighting rose into the air, cutting the sight of those who desperately fought for their lives below. It stunk of the dead, rotting, bodies littering the fields leading to the city. Most of those strung across the desert floor were wearing the red star of Morocco, AKMs strewn across with them. The blood still gushed out from many, and had the sands not soaked it up perhaps it would be possible to say that this slaughter would reach the ankles of the defendants. Nothing like this had been seen in the history of Spain and Morocco since the raids of Charles I of Spain, Charles V of Germany. Indeed, intestines filtered out of some, the brains out of others, some were deformed by Spanish artillery, others burnt to death by the large guns on the destroyers. The ground was cratered, ruined, as if bulldozed by thunderbolts launched from the heavens. It seemed like a disaster. In fact, it looked like a warzone, and that it was.

The Moroccon armor, some remaining fifty or so tanks, had set up outside the city, arrayed to shell Spanish defensive positions upon request. However, most of them kept quiet, wary of the Spanish naval bombardment which had so devastated their lines before. One tank shook as a high explosive round left its 125mm barrel, marking it as a T-72, and raced through the air, arching at the midpoint, and finally shrieking into a building in the city, crashing through the wall, and sending a billowing cloud of smoke and scraps through the city streets.

The only chatter of infantry weapons that could be heard came from the direction of the city. There the first battle of the war raged on, as both sides conducted themselves in brutal rushes of houses, and tried to take mere inches of land. The sporadic shelling of the city by the Moroccon tanks enshrouded entire streets with dust and debris, and the bloods of dead soldiers splattered across the many walls. The sheer loss of life would shock any sane person.

The Moroccons had been able to take a single building, a warehouse located in the outskirts of the city. There they found various food supplies and spare automobile parts. However, the warehouse served as a further base of operations, and thus the probes into the city were all centered around the warehouse.

A platoon of Spanish legionnaires silent moved through the rear alley leading to the back of the warehouse. Afar the tic-tac of rifle and machine gun fire drowned out the footsteps of the eleven men. One signalled to the other, and a single soldier began to pick up his pace, heading straight for the warehouse, keeping his eye on the windows and doors. He crouched and stopped for about two seconds, then continued. A sharp sound came from one of the top windows, along with a flash, and the Spanish soldier fell to the ground, knees first. A 7.62mm x 54R round, fired from a Soviet SVD Sniper Rifle, found itself logged in the right eye of the now dead soldier. As the crimson blood rushed onto the street the rest of the platoon crouched and the Sergeant, leading the platoon, frantically waved at his men.

One of them pinpointed the source window and took his assault rifle and attached a small bucket like apparatus to it. He placed a miniature canister grenade into it and pointed it up, slowly moving to his right. Finally, the window came into view and he pulled the trigger. A sharp flash from the polymer propellant was followed by the canister flying through midair and falling through the window. Within seconds an explosion rocked the street, and that all that was left of the window were the black edged created by the quick burn. The glass of the opened window lay scattered across the floor, outside of the warehouse.

Quickly, the Sergeant prodded his men to rush the building. No doubt the entire Moroccon defense of the building had been warned of the presence of the insurgent group. Indeed they were. Another window shattered open as a Moroccon soldier stuck 5.54mm RPK-74 Light Machine Gun through the window. He was about to start firing, however, a quick shot from a HaLi-G assault rifle earned him a 5.56mm bullet in the head.

The team moved fast, ignoring the gunfire bouncing off the walls around them. One of them went down, but none of the others noticed. They were completing their duty - even if all of them were to die. The reached the door and one shoved it open while another one threw a grenade inside. After the subsequent explosion the platoon charged in and began to spray the area, looking for survivors. Then room by room they began the bloody task of clearing the warehouse.

All the while, the streets were filled with soldiers from both sides fighting. Large groups of Moroccon regulars charged heavily defended Spanish positions. The Spanish heavy machine guns simply tore through the bodies of the Moroccons. It quite a spectacle, and quite a slaughter. An entire Moroccon company had rushed a hotel, moving through the door, being cut down one by one by Spanish defendants. What had got them slaughtered was their attempt to rush the stairs.

The Moroccon idea of pitting regulars against a numerically superior group of elite soldiers had failed them. Indeed, without the fire power needed for the investment of a city they were doomed. The death around the streets was only blatant proof of it. More than eight hundred Moroccons had died so far, and the Spanish price to pay had been low, with less than one hundred dead. However, the Spanish slain were visible. The single Munich vehicle had been knocked out by a Moroccon Dragon ATGM, although the man had been killed. The missile struck at the top, ignitniting the propellant, and combusting the missiles, destroying the vehicle from top down. None of the crew had survived.

Nonetheless, the battle was going horrible for the Moroccon assailants, and it was obvious that they would need many more reinforcements if they had any hopes of taking Ceuta before the Spaniards could put a serious effort in destroying the Moroccon contingent inside the city.

The armor, shelling the buildings, had failed to put enough shells into the city, and without any sort of needed accuracy, and thus their effort was in vain. All it did was open their positions to the Spanish destroyers. The large ships turned all their guns inland, prepared to open fire. Then, all of the guns ripped loose in succession, red blasts rippling across the seafront. The shells whizzed over the city, and even some Moroccon soldiers put their heads down, fearing a general bombardment. Then, they struck inside the ranks of the armor, destroying the tanks in huge batches. Whaaang. A shell struck one of the Abrams in the turret, penetrating the entire tank, and killing the crew within seconds. The explosion knocked out another two T-72s beside the Abrams. Either the Moroccon armor would call for a general retreat, or they would be decimated. Of course, they opted for the former. Within ten minutes they began to rout back to the Moroccon lines. The destroyer fire would follow them until they were well within twenty kilometers west of the city. The infantry was now alone.

Inside, the hotel on the outskirts had finally been taken, at the cost of seventy-five percent of the company. A Moroccon soldier broke through the top, and placed a large Moroccon flag on the roof, waving in the wild air. It would serve as a clear warning to the Spaniards, but as a moral boost to the Moroccons.

Regardless, the battle was fast coming to an end...

[Battle of Melilla]
With the battle raging in Ceuta the Spanish contingent in Melilla had more than enough warning to succesfully defend from the second Moroccon investment. The problem with the Moroccon strategy was that the assault on Melilla occured a full two hours after the beginning of the fighting around Ceuta, giving the Spanish defense forewarning, and negating the factor of suprise for Morocco. However, the Spanish garisson of Melilla was substantially smaller than that of Ceuta, which would give the Moroccon infantry division some respite.

The Spanish garisson was composed of a single Spanish infantry regiment, about two thousand strong, which had garissoned Melilla since the late 90s, and continued in the city until the present. It was underpaid, underequipped, and underexperienced. Catalan had failed to equip the city with the newer weapons, and all they had of the new ordance were the HaLi-G assault rifles, and some Ebro anti-tank missile launchers. However, the rest of the ordnance, including air defenses, were old EU and American supplied weapon systems, which did not offer the same firepower as the newer Spanish technology. Nonetheless, the Moroccons would find it hard to penetrate the city's defenses.

As with Ceuta the border fence rippled with explosions as packs of TNT blew holes through the chain link, giving the infantry openings for their rush through to the city. And as with Ceuta they became prey to the Spanish anti-personnel mines, designed after the Soviet PMD-6D. The 200gram charge in each was enough to blow a soldier's leg off, and even kill him. The small crackle of the mines effectively blowing up in succession could be heard even from the city, scaring the civilians back into their houses.

As the Moroccons filtered through the fence the wooden defensive towers blazed in a torrent of lead bullets coming from NATO designed 7.62mm standard machine guns, ripping through the Moroccon lines. RPG rounds came from the Moroccons and crashed into the wooden towers, knocking them down. The Moroccon war machine continued rushing to the city, despite the heavy losses, and ultimately they broke through the ring of Spanish defenses, although a higher cost than in Ceuta. At least five hundred of the soldiers were killed by the time the primary defensive ring had been breached.

A quick Spanish counter attack, using French produced APX-10 APCs, hit the Moroccon advance square in the head. A heavy slugfist attack and counterattack ensued, as the Moroccons made little headway against the probing Spaniards. Rounds smashed and burnt through the Moroccon lines, sending men flying through the air. Explosions ripped all along the lines, killing men by the dozens.

Nonetheless, the Spanish were beaten back into the city and the same brutal house to house fighting began in Melilla. The slaughter was neverending.

However, the Moroccons made improvements over their offensive into Ceuta. Moroccon F-15 Eagles struck low, scared of the new Spanish surface to air missiles, but Melilla's RADAR hadn't been improved. Instead, the F-15s went unopposed, and from ranges exceeding five kilometers pelted the city with high explosive rockets. The skyline erupted in fire, buildings torn from the top, and men screaming for their lives. The first Moroccon air strike, other than that of Ceuta, had been a success.

However, upon their bank to return, a single surface to air missile shot from the center of the city and hit the F-15 in the rear fuselage. The aircraft started smoking, and then burning, and within seconds the cockpit flung open and the pilot ejected. Minutes later the F-15 exploded midair, leaving nothing but falling metal scraps.

North Africa was again at war...

[G-PALS Constellation Pegasus-One]
Above the upper atmosphere of Earth, in the depths of space, a single sattelite flew in orbit of the Earth. It's shape was strange, and it had a bulbous end, which narrowed at the front, where it had ten different canister storage areas containing some type of canister, or perhaps rockets. From the side two seperate solar panel 'wings' portruded towards two different points, and under it a single transmitter angled in front of it. Around it, anothern three of its kind orbited with it, creating Constellation Pegasus-One, the first and still only Spanish G-PALS constellation, although within a month there would be another one, and both would be expanded to a total of five sattelites each. Moreover, several improvements over already existant G-PALS sattelites, such as the ones employed by the United States, were going to take effect within a month or two.

G-PALS had been an American invention, first designed by NASA, however, the information was generally available to America's European nations, although nobody else decide G-PALS was worth the investment, even Congress had terminated the program. Brilliant Pebbles, the top anti-missile program of the Reagan and the first Bush administrations, was an attempt to deploy a 4,000-satellite constellation in low-Earth orbit that would fire high-velocity, watermelon-sized projectiles at long-range ballistic missiles launched from anywhere in the world. Although the program was eliminated by the Clinton Administration, the concept of Brilliant Pebbles remains among the most effective means of ballistic missile defense.

In the early 1980s, scientists Edward Teller, Lowell Wood, and Gregory Canavan began gaming out a new missile defense concept known as “Smart Rocks” at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in California. Smart Rocks involved deploying thousands of tiny rocket-propelled canisters in orbit, each capable of ramming itself into an incoming ballistic missile. Following their initial war games, Teller, Wood, and Canavan successfully persuaded President Ronald Reagan that a robust constellation of Smart Rocks interceptors would provide a strong defense against nuclear attack.

On March 23, 1983, Reagan announced his bold vision for an impenetrable missile defense shield that would render nuclear warheads impotent and obsolete: “I call upon the scientific community in this country, who gave us nuclear weapons, to turn their great talents to the cause of mankind and world peace.” From the very beginning, Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI) viewed space-based weapons such as X-ray lasers, chemical lasers, particle-beam weapons, and kinetic kill vehicles as the best way to destroy large numbers of incoming Soviet warheads.

Smart Rocks was upgraded in 1988 and renamed “Brilliant Pebbles.” In addition to eliminating incoming nuclear warheads, each component of the 4,000-satellite constellation was designed to protect U.S. space-based assets, attack its Soviet counterparts, or sacrifice itself in a one-time spy mission. The interceptor satellites would be controlled from the ground, but would also have the ability to communicate among themselves and attack their targets autonomously. At a projected cost of $11 billion for the first 1,000 interceptors, Brilliant Pebbles presented a cost-efficient means of countering the Soviet menace.

Brilliant Pebbles made significant progress between 1988 and 1990, and received enthusiastic support from the Bush I Administration. Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney referred to Brilliant Pebbles as the White House’s “number one project,” and the program received generous funding even as other SDI initiatives were phased out. In March 1990, George Monahan, Director of SDI, announced that Brilliant Pebbles would be the first-deployed U.S. missile defense system. His successor, Henry F. Cooper, streamlined the Brilliant Pebbles contractor team to two companies, TRW-Hughes and Martin Marietta, and lobbied aggressively on Capitol Hill for more funding and support.

In 1991, following several years of inner turmoil, the Soviet Union imploded. Despite the end of the Cold War, Brilliant Pebbles remained an essential part of the U.S. missile defense architecture. That same year, computer simulations demonstrated that, if it had been deployed during the Persian Gulf War, Brilliant Pebbles would have shot down every Scud missile launched by Saddam Hussein, including the salvo attack on Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Following the Middle East crisis, Brilliant Pebbles was enhanced to give its interceptors the ability to swoop down into the atmosphere, thus improving its overall effectiveness against Scuds and cruise missiles.

In 1993, however, the Clinton Administration delivered a severe blow to U.S. missile defense by systematically eliminating Brilliant Pebbles through a series of budget cuts. Secretary of Defense Les Aspin stated his objective as “taking the star out of Star Wars.” The Administration did more than just that: it slashed missile defense funding across the board and replaced SDI with the Ballistic Missile Defense Organization (BMDO). Yet the technology itself would continue to be tested, for a short time: one year later, NASA launched a deep-space probe known as “Clementine,” which had been built using first-generation Brilliant Pebbles technology. Clementine successfully mapped the entire surface of the Moon. The mission, which cost $80 million, effectively “space qualified” Brilliant Pebbles’ hardware. All the same, no steps were taken by the Clinton Administration to resurrect the program.

Brilliant Pebbles remained on the shelf and out of the public eye until 2002, when President George W. Bush withdrew the U.S. from the 1972 ABM Treaty. At first, many believed that Bush II planned to resurrect Brilliant Pebbles, which had been the focus of his father’s anti-missile program. Instead, the Missile Defense Agency (BMDO’s successor) concentrated its efforts on “hit-to-kill” ground-based defenses, such as the 20 interceptors that will be deployed at Fort Greely in Alaska and Vandenberg Air Force Base in California in late 2004. Little attention was paid to space-based defenses, although MDA’s Near Field Infrared Experiment (NFIRE), scheduled for launch in the summer of 2004, recently shifted the national debate back to Brilliant Pebbles-like interceptors.

In any event, the concept of Brilliant Pebbles remains among the most efficient and cost-effective means of defending the U.S. against nuclear, chemical, and biological warheads.

Nevertheless, Catalan thought different, and so within two weeks of his coup he had ordered the launching of three rudimentary sattelites to take the role of G-PALS. The three sattelites, the current Pegasus-One, would be soon brought down to Earth and scrapped, and then replaced with a much better, more expensive, and much larger, counterpart. Regardless, Pegasus-One would be more than enough to seriously cripple Morocco.

From the three sattelites all thirty canisters were electrically ejected, and once out their fuel injectors began to propel them at velocities exceeding ten kilometers per second. They began to orbit the atmosphere of the Earth, fires raging out of their engines in the rear. Finally, a Moroccon sattelite appeared out of the horizon.

Each Brilliant Pebble had a camera attached to it, which allowed the constellation to guide it. So, when the Moroccon sattelite entered the horizon of the Brilliant Pebbles the camera took the image and the sattelite directed three Brilliant Pebbles towards the target. The three rockets turned, breaking from the main conglomeration, and sped towards the sattelite.

Within sixty-two seconds the three rockets covered the distance and smashed into the Moroccon victim. It was replaced by a brilliant white flash, and then it turned into a cloud of debris, as pieces of sattelite scattered in every which way. Those which fell towards the Earth would burn up in the atmosphere. The others would travel until the universe ended, or until they hit the atmosphere of some other planet or form of matter.

The rest of the brilliant pebbles continued. Within three minutes every Moroccon sattelite in the sky would be fed into Pegasus-One and destroyed. The Moroccons would lose their most vital eye in the sky within the first night of the war.

[Operation SLAPSTICK]
The new subterranean airbase at Algeciras was filled with maintenance crews running between fighter aircraft in last minute check ups. Logistical personnel shuffled back and forth with extra ammunition and additional missiles, and any other last minute additions to the load out. However, for the most part, the six Lu-05 squadrons and the three Lu-12 squadrons had been readied during the previous hours, while Cadiz and Melilla were in the heat of a siege.

The fighters were in neat rows, protected by the titanium reinforced gates and walls, packed to create the huge bunker and air field complex under the sands of Algeciras. It wasn't the first time a nation had moved their airforce underground, the Israelis did also in order to protect from missile attacks and the like.

A sweet female voice, with a sexy French accent, directed the pilots to their respected birds. Her words came out gracefully from the intercom and radio centers around the complex, portruding from the walls. However, nobody had the voice in mind. They just followed her orders like drones. The mission at hand was far more important than male urges. They had some ten minutes to get into their planes and begin circling around Algeciras, waiting for the rest of their wing.

Most pilots did a last minute check of their plane. Tired maintenance crews made mistakes, and mistakes were fatal. They glanced over their engine, wings, hard points, et cetera, making sure everything was close to perfect. Then they hoped into the cockpit of their respective fighter and started the engines. Eight by eight they taxies onto the runways, letting their turbojets whine, and eight by eight they accelerated down the long runways, as the steel and titanium doors opened before them. The crack let the rays of light refracting from the moon seep into the complex, revealing the starry night.

Within ten minutes all one hundred and eight fighters were ready to begin operation SLAPSTICK, including seventy-two Lu-05 Schlachten air superiority fighters and thirty-six Lu-12 Canary Strike Fighters. The Canaries decended to an altitude of just about two hundred feet, while the Schlachten fighters kept high above the surface. While the Canaries kept under the horizon of Moroccon naval based and land based RADAR, the air superiority fighters would take all the attention. In that way, the Lu-12s would make their strike unnoticed, making it all the more lethal.

The Gibraltar was teeming with Moroccon ships. At around 0600 hours that day, during the start of the war, Rabat had sent only six fast attack craft to patrol the straits, however, within sixteen hours that contingent had risen to fifteen fast attack craft, two destroyers, and a single frigate, at least half of the Moroccon fleet. Madrid had codenamed it Battle Group Caliph. The reason for the build up was simple. The Spanish navy did not exist. The old armada had been scrapped, and all that existed now were the Manstein class Destroyers in Ceuta, ten Toledo class SSNs in Cartagena, and some patrol craft to provide the defense of the harbors. So, without resistance, the Moroccons had opted to take full control of the Straits, which would effectively cut Melilla and Ceuta off from mainland Spain. If they thought their plan would succeed they were wrong... dead wrong.

The Lu-05s began to circle over the northern part of the Straits, trying to catch the eye of Moroccon RADAR. However, Battle Group Caliph continued steaming in a westwardly vector. The Lu-12s, all the while, continued closing the distance, just finishing leaving the peninsula of Gibraltar. When land turned to sea they received their opportunity to devastate the kingdom to their south.

The group unshackeled a total of fifty Shockhound Avenger I anti-ship missiles, which free fell for about twelve feet before their RAMjet injectors kicked in. Taking in oxygen at subsonic levels, and then at supersonic levels, the Shockhound Avengers began to make injections for Mach 2.1. Using RADAR information from the Canaries, and from their own warheads, they turned it off and began to use their active LIDAR pulses from the Gaussian Transmitter on the tip of the missile. This effectively cut them out of the enemy ship's electronic measurement systems.

All the while the Canaries turned off their own RADAR and banked, turning to head back to base. The Lu-05s would stay in the air providing a rear guard, and then they too would head back to base, and ready for the next mission.

The anti-shipping missiles sea-skimmed the straits and soon their targets came into view. Within minutes half of the fast attack craft were sinking and the rest were flaming wrecks. The frigate was utterly devastated and began to list to one side. Within thirty seconds it too sunk. The only ships able to put up a defese were the destroyers which took down a number of missiles using their close-in weapons system. However, in the end one of the destroyers turned into a blinding flash, and then into a burning hulk, and sunk within two minutes. The second destroyer was punctured by three missiles, however, it was not mortally wounded. A fourth missile changed the story.

With the damage done the Moroccon navy had lost at least half its effective strength, turning it into a non-important factor in the war. Most likely, what remained would be bottled up in Morocco's Atlantic harbors and just be used for sporadic raiding. However, the seas had been won by Spain in a simple, effective, and mortal, raid.

The tables were turning...

[OOC: "Secretely", but by helicopter...very bad combo, but no worries, I wouldn't risk war with Russia because of some choppers. In any case, a political reason Morocco would attack Spain is:

Basically, Morocco has always wanted Ceuta and Melilla back, and even the PSOE (just recently in RL) absolutely refused the official return (stating that the British still owned the Gibraltar, so the only way the deal could be processed is if the British returned the Gibraltar). I don't exactly remember what year, but the Spanish owned island of Perejil, just off the coast of Morocco, and no larger than 1/10 of a kilometer long, was 'invaded' by three drunk Moroccons. Over that, Morocco was one decision away from war, and they said they would have declared war had there not been other factors involved, including U.S. miltary and civilian trade. However, Morocco was nothing to lose against attacking Spain, because it's not like Spain is going to annex them - not in this day in age - so Madrid is always afraid that Morocco is going to attack Ceuta, that's why they have semi-large pockets of troops, and heavy defenses, around their two 'colonies'.

Just an idea though.]
((OOC: I see. The Morrocan government's off its rocker, then, in RL. Attacking Spain would mean attacking NATO, wouldn't it? Insanity. And I meant that the choppers come in within a distance, and then they exit. I'm using choppers as they'll provide useful extraction tools, if things get too heated, seeing as how the Russians can't walk into HL territory, so they can exit off onto some of the small Mediterranean islands and make their way from there.)))

IC:

Citing the unprovoked attack against Spanish soil by the Moroccans, the recent Spanish election, and the capitalist and conservative values of the Spanish government, the Russian Congress has authorized full support of Spain, by means of war if necessary. A full trade embargo has been initiated against Morocco (although this will probably have little effect on them) and inquiries are made about any possible aid the Russians could provide.

Specifically, Russian diplomats are emphasizing Russia's newly modernized industrial capabilities and her vast natural resources. Russians are also very, very interested in obtaining Spanish military technology, and working with Spanish scientists to apply it to existing Russian arms.

[OOC: It gets tricky with NATO. France is an avid supplier of arms to Morocco, and so is the United States. The Socialist government in Spain right now, to be blunt, are a bunch of pussies, for a lack of a better term. No matter, I think it's set that the next election will be a conservative win. I'll sure as hell vote Popular Party - the conservatives.]

Sattelite DataBurst to Moscow, Russia
Your aid in times like these are the type of events which serve to lift a heavy heart. With so many threats, so many enemies, a sign of light in the dark is always the most wonderful thing.

With Russian industrial capacity, the Spaniards and the Russians will turn into great partners, as we can foretell. With Spanish technology, and Russian factories, both war machines will turn into the examples of the world. Moreover, we will no longer be the lackies, at least Spain, since Russia is in no way a lacky, of this world.

What is your current stance with the Sinoese government? They are now in Madrid. Perhaps we can arrange a meeting between all three parties if you show up as well.

[OOC:http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=411729]

(OOC: Still, I doubt NATO would ignore such a threat to Europe, and its treaty obligations. Even if the Spanish Socialist government is cowardly and traitorous.)

IC:
Secure Electronic Transmission (Basically, a fancy way of saying a secure e-mail line)

Of course we come to your aid. We cannot allow a democratic, capitalist, and conservative nation to fall into the greedy clutches of fundamentalist hordes. The people of Spain just climbed out of the darkness; we can't let them fall back in. Communist Russia aided Republican Spain in its war against the Fascists, and Capitalist Russia will aid Republican Imperialist Spain.

In regards to technology, Russia doesn't want to directly purchase technology, seeing as how one of our major industries is arms development. However, advanced Spanish technology, especially "Brilliant Pebble" and "Munich Anti-Tank" (OOC:I don't remember it exactly.) looks very appetising, and would work well in conjunction with our arms.

Spain has the technology and the money; Russia has the facilities and the resources. Together, we can build an incredibly powerful war machine.

In regards to Sino, our relations are a little shaky with them. We're generally friendly, although we dislike their undemocratic government and their Moscow Deception (Liu sent a body double to an Asian conference without informing us at all), and with them looking to unify with Xiaguo and Taiwan, which will moderate the regime's extremism, an alliance does not look out of the question.

I will attend this conference as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
President Vladimir Putin

(Trying to resist the urge to call anyone pathetic for thinking that having their country of orgin kick the backside of another is progress (Napoleon kicked arse and still the French rose again for liberation: national pride is nothing in the face of liberalism), I must admit before asking this first to being drunk, and second to not having read the whole thread in detail. I don't want you to give too much away OOC, but are you actually saying that NPC Morocco attacked Spanish holdings after an authoritarian coup in Spain, or is it just a lie by the new Spanish government? The latter is of course quite fine, but the former, I think, pushes the bounds of 1) what we can do with NPC nations, and 2) what would realistically happen. Morocco's leadership would have to combine for a double figure IQ if they'd attack when Spain was at its strongest, militarily. If Spain's last government was that useless, Morocco would have attacked then, not now. As I say, I haven't read in detail, and if your government is just lying, that's fine, a legitimate IC tool.)

OOC: From what he said OOC, it seems like he's saying they attacked him. It does bring up NPC issues, though. I thought I was going too far with the Kazakhstan thing, but this is...I don't know. I don't really know enough about the situation to comment.

(Trying to resist the urge to call anyone pathetic for thinking that having their country of orgin kick the backside of another is progress (Napoleon kicked arse and still the French rose again for liberation: national pride is nothing in the face of liberalism), I must admit before asking this first to being drunk, and second to not having read the whole thread in detail. I don't want you to give too much away OOC, but are you actually saying that NPC Morocco attacked Spanish holdings after an authoritarian coup in Spain, or is it just a lie by the new Spanish government? The latter is of course quite fine, but the former, I think, pushes the bounds of 1) what we can do with NPC nations, and 2) what would realistically happen. Morocco's leadership would have to combine for a double figure IQ if they'd attack when Spain was at its strongest, militarily. If Spain's last government was that useless, Morocco would have attacked then, not now. As I say, I haven't read in detail, and if your government is just lying, that's fine, a legitimate IC tool.)

[OOC: Oh no, the Moroccon 'terrorist' attacks on Ceuta and the reconaissance aircraft over the Gibraltar were incidents perpetrated by Spanish intelligence officers, designed to formulate a reason to go to war with Morocco.

Now, when I first wrote the RP out on paper (as in the outline) I had two choices:

1. I could attack simply because of the act of terrorism, and just follow the same boring storyline.

or

2. I could write it up so as it looked like Morocco caused acts of terrorism, although they were really set ups. Then, they respond with a letter saying, "no, it's not me," ...Spain doesn't respond and so a threatened Morocco decides that it would be much better to carry the war to Spain and cut Spain off, than to wait for it to come to her.


I mean, the background for number two is there. My old fleet was mothballed - I now have patrol craft, five destroyers, and ten submarines. Meaning, the Moroccon fleet is much better than mine. It was just an understandable intelligence failure that they failed to pick up nine aerial squadrons in subterranean air bases.

As in terms of ground warfare, they'll outnumber me by a lot. My current population of 40 million allows for a small military, roughly 2 million, with a 7:1 logistical ratio that makes about 280,000 frontline personnel according to my calculations. 100,000 are to go to the fleet I'm planning to build in China (if Sino allows me), and there's 100,000 or so on the French border in a defensive stance, and so, total numbers, as I've calculated, in North Africa, are going to be ca. 67,000 men.]

OOC: I'd rather you go with storyline number one. While it may not seem as 'exciting' as number 2, I'd eventually figure out it was a scam, and Russia does not enjoy being duped.

(Gosh. Makes me feel a bit pathetic with my 680,000-strong army in a population of 300million! Ah well. If it comes to total war, we'll disband the army and raise the National Guard, in true communist fashion, and have 120million armed men and women ready to defend the revolution, I suppose.)

OOC: I'd rather you go with storyline number one. While it may not seem as 'exciting' as number 2, I'd eventually figure out it was a scam, and Russia does not enjoy being duped.

[OOC:

Number one would also be a scam. As BG said, why would Morocco provoke a growing neighbor?

As for number two, the war was actually begun by Morocco, however, it was "technically" provoked by Spain by setting Morocco up. The attack by Morocco was an act of desperation.

As for Russia finding out... it would be difficult. I've already linked the only official documents which are going to be made public, and Russia still hasn't found out. I would find it rare that the truth ever gets out, unless Spain falls, and the documents are uncovered.]

(Gosh. Makes me feel a bit pathetic with my 680,000-strong army in a population of 300million! Ah well. If it comes to total war, we'll disband the army and raise the National Guard, in true communist fashion, and have 120million armed men and women ready to defend the revolution, I suppose.)

[OOC: In case of role play I suspect that those 680,000 men will be role played as front line troops...as I've specified, my front line ground army doesn't exceed 167,000 men. It's the maintenance crews, cooks, and other logistical personnel which take the jobs.]

(Hmm, ish. It's very hard to say. The Beddgelen military is extremely highly mechanised, with tens of thousands of light armoured vehicles... but this is owing to the Indian (and, I suppose, Celtic) cavalry tradition. It's very hard to be really definite and specific about my military, as it is firstly communist (not like the USSR, but actually Soviet communist and violently anti-revisionist), and secondarily Geletian (from the Galatian tradition, having never been Christianised to a serious degree). Of the 680,000, but 172,000 are counted infantry soldiers (including mechanised infantry but not drivers et cetera).)

[OOC:

Number one would also be a scam. As BG said, why would Morocco provoke a growing neighbor?

As for number two, the war was actually begun by Morocco, however, it was "technically" provoked by Spain by setting Morocco up. The attack by Morocco was an act of desperation.

As for Russia finding out... it would be difficult. I've already linked the only official documents which are going to be made public, and Russia still hasn't found out. I would find it rare that the truth ever gets out, unless Spain falls, and the documents are uncovered.]
OOC: But didn't you say the Morroccans almost came to war in RL? Despite the threat of NATO?

tag

OOC-

Hello. First of all, I suppose that Juan Carlos II would have been granted safety in France, after all he is the direct half-brother of Louis XX.

I have a few concerns about this SL. How can Spain, one of the poorest nations in Europe, field such incredible technology and mass mobilization. I think some adjustment needs be speculated upon.

That said, if Spain is invaiding Morocco, then they ought have some common cause with France, which is invaiding Algeria. If common cause is not found, it seems we may have to settle this with war. France needs no Republic on her south.

OOC-

Hello. First of all, I suppose that Juan Carlos II would have been granted safety in France, after all he is the direct half-brother of Louis XX.

I have a few concerns about this SL. How can Spain, one of the poorest nations in Europe, field such incredible technology and mass mobilization. I think some adjustment needs be speculated upon.

That said, if Spain is invaiding Morocco, then they ought have some common cause with France, which is invaiding Algeria. If common cause is not found, it seems we may have to settle this with war. France needs no Republic on her south.


Juan Carlos II: He's sitting safely in the Imperial Palace in Madrid. His son, Phillipe, is in Greece. I plan to marry Catalan to a Bourbon cousin.

Spain: One of the poorest countries in Europe...LOL... look it up, it's the 10th most powerful economy in the world.

Morocco: Technically, and officially, Morocco invaded Spain. The tables have turned and now Spain is moving into Morocco, well will once I get can get an IC post in. As for France, he can do whatever he wants, I don't take well OOC threats...any threats, please, do it ICly.

OOC: But didn't you say the Morroccans almost came to war in RL? Despite the threat of NATO?

[OOC: They did, but I doubt they would wage war against a more powerful, imperial, Spain, who doesn't mind breaking humanitary law.

[OOC: They did, but I doubt they would wage war against a more powerful, imperial, Spain, who doesn't mind breaking humanitary law.
OOC: I think it's safe to claim that if they were willing to threaten Spain when it had NATO backing, they'd be willing to threaten Imperial Spain. Either way, it's insanity.

[The Battle for Ceuta]
For a day the Moroccan and Spanish infantry had hammered each other, struggling for control of the outskirts of the city. In so far, the Moroccans had suffered a terrible toll, including around one thousand dead, many more wounded. On the other hand, the Spaniards had lost at least three hundred of their own, a huge toll for a country which was accustomed to deployments half as large. Moreover, the Moroccans had fielded a single infantry division and a single armored division against the Spanish Foreign Legion, before the battle started. The dawn of a new day saw the 35th Moroccan infantry division deployed to Ceuta, ready to reinforce the quickly depleting 11th Moroccan infantry division, already pitted inside the city. The flag which had been put over a tall hotel had been burnt within two hours by Spanish troops, and then put up again an hour after that. It was a revolving death match, which no side was ready to leave unfinished.

Ten kilometers to the north, a single aircraft squadron, made up of twelve Lu-12 Canary strike fighters, already tired of the previous day’s attack on the Moroccan naval task force in the Gibraltar. Under the wings of the Canaries were a total of four MLAM-2 air to surface missiles, making a total of forty-eight land attack missiles. Flying under the horizon, the only RADAR powerful enough to illuminate them were the Spanish installations in Ceuta, as well as the single Sea Serpent II flying over the city, outlining paths of attack for Spanish infantry squadrons, and so the squadron would continue their flight unmolested by the Moroccans.

The only problem were the Moroccan AWACS, flying west to east, probing the air with their characteristic overhead discs, which emitted pulses of radio waves, which jetted through the skies, and then bounced back, alerting the aircraft of the presence of enemy fighters. The Moroccans had learned from the mistakes which had caused them the destruction of over half their fleet in the first day of the war. Consequently, using the E-2C Hawkeye AWACS, purchases years before from the American government, they made sure that the same mistake didn’t happen again. The Hawkeye, a twin-turboprop aircraft, although unarmed, carried an APS-145 RADAR, which was good for about two hundred and fifty miles.

Luckily, the APS-145’s radio waves were being chewed up and diffracted by the Wave-X radar absorbent material fitted over the entire frame of the Lu-12. So, on the Hawkeye’s RADAR screen all that would appear were sporadically flickering red triangles, showing that there was something out there, but nothing specific. No military air commander could act like that. Military air traffic was constant over the straits, especially Spanish AWACS, and so, the Lu-12s would continue unperturbed.

But, the Moroccan AWACS E-2C Hawkeye would not escape unharmed. Another squadron of fighters, this time Lu-05 Schlachten, had been skimming the landforms of Andalucia, fanning out across the Straits of Gibraltar; waiting for separate Hawkeye’s to enter into their missile range. The E-2C which had managed to stumble across the squadron of Canaries was the first of their prey. The pilot to a single Schlachten fighter electrically chose one of the ten MTAAM-3 Predator air to air missiles, and then pressed the round button on his joystick, releasing the missile. A grey path marked the wake of the missile as it tore through the fragile atmosphere and rose over the troposphere. Seconds later, the missile again came down right over the head of the Hawkeye AWACS, and when the two merged nothing was left except a piercing flash, and a burning fireball, heading back towards the Earth.

The Canaries moved quickly, and when they were finally four kilometers from Ceuta they were ready to open fire. All forty-eight MLAM-2 missiles free fell for about ten feet after being unshackled by the pilots of the Lu-12 Canaries. Then their engines began to inject the fuel, launching them at something near Mach 2.1, skimming the surface of the sea. Each MLAM-2 had a 200kg warhead of OctaNitroCubane, which was twenty-five percent more powerful than Octagen; the standard explosive used the world’s militaries. One they reached the terminal phase of their flight, the MLAM-2s rose twenty feet, and then plummeted down into the ranks of moving Moroccan infantry.

The seven thousand men who had been deployed to launch yet another wave into Ceuta presented beautiful targets, packed meat ready for the kill. As the Canaries turned around to head back home the horizon flashed with red and orange glows as the missiles slaughtered the enemy’s men.

In Ceuta, the Spaniards and Moroccans like stopped the fighting for mere seconds and waited until the Earth stopped shaking. The explosions ripped through the area, sending a heat wave into the already stuffy Kevlar and cloth uniforms worn by the two opposing armies. Behind that dust rushed through the streets of the city, entering the clothing of the soldiers, and forcing them to cover their eyes.

When it was all over with the Spaniards were hidden from the results, as they again moved to turn back the Moroccan tide. However, their counterparts were not as lucky. The division which had been sent to finally silence the Spaniards was torn to threads, and those who survived would have to help carry away the dead and aid the wounded, before going into battle. At least three hundred men were dead, and hundreds more wounded, perhaps up to a thousand. The raid had been devastating, and it would show as the badly depleted division would never see combat in Ceuta.

[The Battle for Tangiers]
While the Moroccan army burned in Ceuta, Tangiers sat relatively quiet. However, that fake sense of peace was about to be undermined. Forty kilometers to the northeast, over a small city called Tarifa, one hundred of the newer variant UH-60 Blackhawk transport helicopters, covered by thirty of the brand new RoLu-17 Galicia attack helicopters, moved quickly and soon were over the calm of the Straits of Gibraltar. About four kilometers to their west a separate flight of twenty-four Lu-12 Canaries struck even faster. Each UH-60 Blackhawk, covered in black paint and black radar absorbent material, carried eleven of Spain’s first of two air assault divisions, the 13th Division. Meaning, a total of one thousand one hundred of the division’s six thousand men, were inside those Blackhawks. Their escort, the Galicians, were outfitted with two MTAAM-3 MADAAM Predator air to air missiles, rocket pods, and two Ebro anti-tank missiles each, making them both silent and deadly.

The two squadrons of Canaries moved on beyond the helicopters, sticking low like usual, armed with ten MLAM-2 each. They were on a similar mission than the squadron operating around Ceuta, only they were going to be much more deadly, and their attack would ultimately carry much more weight. At some five hundred knots they would hit Tangiers soon.

Ten kilometers out they fired a total of ninety-six air to surface MLAM-2 missiles, which shrieked towards their target at Mach 2.1. Targeted were the several surface to air missile batteries around Tangiers, the military airport, and a multitude of barracks which held the city’s main defense. The attack was as devastating as that in Ceuta. The surface to air missiles were obliterated, along with the airfield. The barracks suffered minor damage; however that minor damage rendered the city’s defenses useless. A total of sixteen Moroccan fighters, which would have had come in handy for the defense of Tangiers, were totally destroyed, leaving the African country with no air defense over Tangiers, except the distant Tetouan, about forty kilometers south of Ceuta.

Although the two armored divisions in the area between Tangiers and Ceuta were quickly alerted they would arrive too late to carry the day. Nonetheless, they began to move towards Tangiers, sensing an imminent strike on the city. That move would cost the two divisions their core units.

The RoLu-17 helicopters broke off, heading directly south to intercept the two armored divisions, which had been largely stripped of their anti-air defenses. Within an hour the opposing forces locked horns, as the RoLu-17s opened fire with two Ebro anti-tank missiles each, making a total of a hundred, from over three thousand meters from the armored columns. The streaks of the missiles followed the fuel jet engine and then disappeared in the smoke of the missile hitting the vehicles, behind a white and red flash. The impact was heard like thunder as entire tank chassis were blasted apart, killing entire crews. Before the attack the two divisions fielded something around two hundred and twenty tanks, along with dozens of supply vehicles. After the attack the remnants were left with less than forty of their T-72 tanks, and less than ten of their soft skinned supply vehicles. The blasts of the Ebros had destroyed vast quantities of soft-skinned trucks which had been moving near each other, and that would prove the undoing of the two divisions. With the small, thin, wiry roads of Northern Morocco the surviving armor would be backed up for hours, providing ample opportunities if air command wanted to drive the destruction home. More importantly, Tangiers was open for the taking.

While the RoLu-17 wreaked damage, the Blackhawks continued their fateful voyage to Tangiers. Passing over Tangiers the Blackhawks split. Two went straight for the government center, including the local governor’s palace, awarded to him by the Moroccan king. Touching ground, twenty-two soldiers ran out, armed with the new Hali-37 assault rifles, mowing down the palace guards with accurate rounds. Bursting through the gates they raided the premises and within ten minutes the entire government square of secured by the surrender of the governor, who was forced to declare the city Spanish by gunpoint.

However, the defending soldiers, who had been pounded with zeal, would not be so easily persuaded. The two Blackhawks, no free of load, began reconnaissance duties using heavy cameras under their nozzle. They would be crucial in the task of directing the soldiers around the maze composed of the various streets of the city. By now the entire load was safely on the ground, and the real battle had begun. All the Blackhawks, except the two on reconnaissance duties, would head back to Tarifa to pick up the next load.
On the ground the fight continued with heavy gunfire. Nonetheless, the Moroccan defenders were forced to surrender, or else they faced decimation at the hands of superior Spanish fire which came from the air assault infantry and the hovering RoLu-17 attack helicopters. Within an hour the city was secured and the roughly two thousand Moroccan defenders were either killed or now facing temporary imprisonment in the city’s cages, where for decades the oppressive kings of the country had locked away political dissidents, including his own daughter. Within four hours the entire 13th Air Assault Division was firmly on the ground, and Tangiers quickly became the base of operations for the Spanish campaign in Northern Morocco.

The tables had finally turned decisively for the Spanish war machine.

[Moroccan Order No. 2013]
To all units operating in the Tangiers Strip
From: Head of Royal Operations, Rabat

The 8th, 3rd and 11th armored divisions and 1st, 2nd, and 17th infantry divisions have been ordered south, in order to hook up with the 9th infantry division and the 1st armored division, occupying a new defensive line from Martil to the Atlantic coast, just above Tetouan. The combined strength of two hundred and forty tanks and thirty-two thousand infantry will surely split the Spanish offensive, and then we can carry the dead by driving them back north, and finally across the channel!

Do not fail me soldiers of Allah! We began this war under threat of Spanish imperialism. I did not order our units to provoke international criticism and the missiles of the Spaniards in order to face my demise! Prevail or die, but do not come to Rabat with your backs to the Spanish drive without the news of their destruction. If so, then you may rot in the depths of hell for He will not allow the false believers into his realm.


What the king did not notice in giving his directive was that the two hundred and forty tanks actually numbered only about one hundred, and the infantry could not put more than twenty thousand men in the defense. All the while, the Spanish numbers in the country were growing. From sixteen thousand during the war’s start, eight thousand in the area of the eight divisions listed in his directive, the number had now grown to twenty-two thousand, fourteen thousand in the areas of Tangiers, the rest in Melilla, at least three hundred kilometers to the east. By the wars climax Madrid was thinking of deploying a total of sixty-eight thousand ground forces – a total of sixty-eight thousand of one hundred and sixty-eight thousand infantry. In terms of armor, however, there were no plans to waste crucial armored divisions in North Africa, when war with France was growing close, especially as their allies were preaching war against the “republic” to France’s south.

"Hmmm...The Moroccans are nearly defeated. We don't have to worry about any losses. And a victory would give us a foothold in Africa, from where we could strike at Nigeria..."

Putin, clad as usual in a black trenchcoat, paced his Kremlin office. The black marble star on the floor had long ago lost its gleam, due to the incessant pacing Vladimir was quite infamous for. Indeed, he had once paced for two days straight, during the Lavragerian war. Now his mind was pre-occupied with Spain and Morocco, and the janitors knew they would have a long night waxing the floor.

The Boss, a middle aged woman with silver hair and a face that was both cruel and kind, strode into Putin's office.

"Business? Let me guess, Spain?"

Putin smiled tiredly, still not done pacing.

"You could always read me like a book, Boss. When you were my comrade in the army, to now, when you are the Secretary of Defense. So, what are you going to do about Spain?"

Putin's face turned into a mask of uncertainty.

"I don't know...This Catalan...What an arrogant young whelp! I mean, walking into a country and just taking it over!"
"You jumped from a helicopter into the middle of town square, single handedly killed twenty Mafiosi, and ran for President the next day!"
"But...who does he think he is, promising an economic turn around in nine months!"
"You did it in six."
"He's fighting a war with Morrocco a few weeks after he's elected!"
"You fought against France and Ukraine."
"He wants to restore the Spanish empire!"
"You invaded Kazakhstan."

Putin stared, dumbfounded.

"My God! He's just like me! .....Ah, what the hell. Insane conservative revolutionaries of the world, unite, eh?"

_________________________________________
-Letter Delivered By Russian Ambassador-

Russia wishes to offer military aid to Spain, in return for permanent military base, and territorial ownership of the city the base resides in, placed within the southern tip of Morocco.

OOC: How did you make such sufficient quantities of Octonitrocubane for military use? Isn't it being synthesised in laboratary quantities?

OOC: An additional couple of questions...

First, if Morocco was desperate enough to launch an attack on a militarily superior power which had declared its intent to rebuild its empire, surely their monarch would also have been desperate enough to seek out the aid of the newly powerful Holy League monarchies... especially as Algeria has just been feudalized and filled with French troops?

Secondly, Morocco occupies and administers Western Sahara in RL, in cease-fire with the Polisario Front. This would seem an opportune time for a push towards independance. Though, almost certainly a weak one, given current international circumstances.... which gives me an idea...

Spain: One of the poorest countries in Europe...LOL... look it up, it's the 10th most powerful economy in the world.


(Hey, it finally over-took Mexico and Canada?)

Bir-Lahlou, Western Sahara
Th banner hanging from the building, red with golden script reading 'Frente Popular para la Liberacion de Saguia el Hamra y Rio de Oro', seemed clean despite the desert sands which filled the land around it. It had been freshly laundered that morning, as it was every few days, a symbol of a movement which was determined to stay alive.

Looking at the banner, Ibrahim Salam Bouseif could not help but grimace. The cleanliness of the banner seemed a bit comedic when it stood on the only modern building in the community... a one-storey sheet metal barn that had been converted into a headquarters for the Polisario newspaper Al Chihab. The remaining buildings were simple mud huts, serving as barracks and dwellings for the soldiers billeted here. Once, Polisario had been a potent force: the united forces of the Saharawi people, fighting for independance from the Spanish, who had departed, and then the Moroccans and Mauritanians who had come after. Mauritania had been driven out... the greatest Polisario triumph... but the Moroccans were different. Their army was powerful, their advances had been relentless. Polisario had been forced into a cease-fire that had lasted for the past decade.
Worse, during that time support for Polisario had fallen... in Algeria, moderate progress had limited desire to provoke Morocco, and now France and its monarchists were consolidating in the nation. For the thousands of Saharawi refugees and soldiers, centred on Tindouf (in Algeria), there were fears that the French would consolidate and destroy their support base... Algeria had left the area under Polisario administration, but the Holy League could have little love for an independance movement with socialist and democratic influences. Meanwhile, Cold-War associations with the USSR had kept Quinntonian supporton the Moroccan side, and the Progressive Bloc remained distant: the Igovians were likely nervous about such a nationalistic cause, and Bouseif could count the number of Strainist advisors on one hand: not that idealistic students were much use to the Saharawi while they still fought for liberation.

Still, there was some hope. The Moroccans, it appeared, were not the military machine they once were. While they fought the Spaniards in the north, there was a chance for Western Sahara to at last find freedom. From Algeria, the Saharawi began to return, first military forces then civilians, massing in long-abandoned communities. Old Soviet equipment, kept in working order over the years, was brought to full readiness as teenage mechanics scrambled through heaps of junk to bring a handful of ancient T-54s into passable condition: every gun would be needed.

There would be one chance and one chance only... expel the Moroccans and secure the border before arrival of the Spanish, whose acts of massacre at Zemla and 'dissapearing' of the hero Bassiri had not been forgotten. A victory here would put Western Sahara on the international stage where it could call for aid against further agression.

Polisario would break through the Bern.

[OOC:


OOC: OOC: How did you make such sufficient quantities of Octonitrocubane for military use? Isn't it being synthesised in laboratary quantities?


It has been for about four years, clandestinely, and openly, but regardless, it's perfectly possible to put off production of Octagen in mass quantities and instead focus some on OctaNitroCubane. Nonetheless, it proves to be very, very, expensive on my part, that's why I don't plan to use them for mass missile raids.... and it isn't as effective as most people think...it'll burn down, but it doesn't rate well in high explosive, so I think it was just a waste of good Spanish Euros on my part. Meh.


First, if Morocco was desperate enough to launch an attack on a militarily superior power which had declared its intent to rebuild its empire, surely their monarch would also have been desperate enough to seek out the aid of the newly powerful Holy League monarchies... especially as Algeria has just been feudalized and filled with French troops?


Well, first of all, Spain was not openly superior. In that I mean, look, it's obvious I have no navy, except for five destroyers and a bunch of fast attack craft. I seemingly have no air force - indeed, the ten or so squadrons I have were all subterranean. It looks like most of my military is turned towards France in a defensive position, because I'm very wary of a French invasion .... so, at first glance, it wasn't if the Moroccons knew they were going to start loosing the war within the second day.

However, sure, it's possibly that they could ask France for help, and if France wants to help he can go ahead. I can't do anything to stop him unless he asks me for some reason not to go into Morocco, then I can offer things diplomatically, however, if he wants to go into Morocco on a whim, that's his choice.


Secondly, Morocco occupies and administers Western Sahara in RL, in cease-fire with the Polisario Front. This would seem an opportune time for a push towards independance. Though, almost certainly a weak one, given current international circumstances.... which gives me an idea...


True enough, I had my own plans for Western Sahara. However, the 700,000 people of the country don't really offer me much resources anyways, so it would be an expensive, and not really helpful venture - while Morocco offers me plenty of resources, especially in manpower - but, that's to be left for IC posts later, and a long, long, process.



(Hey, it finally over-took Mexico and Canada?)


Dunno, but for World at War they were arguing whether or not China was the 2nd largest economy of the world. So I looked it up and China varied from 3rd to 4th, however, on all the sites I went to Spain was 10th.

]

[Bir-Lahlou, Western Sahara]
The small business jet touched down on the rough, dirt, airfield of the small Western Saharan city. The wheels screeched as they hit the brakes, and a chute popped from the back, opening up giving the resistance a massive surface area, giving more stopping power to the jet than the breaks themselves. Inside the jet was Spain’s leading ambassador, now the newly appointed ambassador to Western Sahara. The Spanish were not in need of a prolonged guerilla war in Western Sahara, they had had enough of that before Spain’s previous withdrawal from the region. What they needed was a safe border to Morocco’s south. The threat of France had grown larger, even though France herself had said nothing. It was France’s conceited allies which proved to Madrid that war with France was almost impossible to avoid. In any case, it would also mean that thousands of Moroccan troops would be surrounded and cut to pieces by a resurgent Saharawi movement

Consequently, Madrid saw a new opening for a diplomatic overture, and thus the new ambassador, Mr. Antonio Hagüera, was sent to Bir-Lahlou to work something out. In his black brief case he carried a letter, directed to the leader of the resistance, which on it carried the words:

Peoples of the Western Sahara, we offer you an overture for peace. In exchange for your promise that the border of Morocco and the Western Sahara shall remain largely demilitarized, we shall promise you your enduring independence, absent from Spanish, African, or French rule. Furthermore, we require you to pin down any existing Moroccan divisions in the Western Sahara, which should add up to quite a bit, at least more than twenty thousand men. With these stopped in a quagmire in the Western Sahara it would mean that our advance on Rabat would be met by much less resistance, and consequently, your nation can be ‘officially’ freed much sooner.

We await your response to Mr. Hagüera soon.

The ambassador would hand that over to the leader of the resistance once the two met. The news was top priority in Madrid, and every second counted.


[The Road of Retreat: Northern Morocco]
The king’s orders had been impossible to fulfill from the start. The columns of retreating Moroccan armor and infantry were constantly harassed by the Spanish fighters, who had gained general air superiority over the field. It wasn’t that the Moroccans didn’t have air support, it was that they were too scared to lose it. Consequently, the Spaniards were left to do their bidding over the skies of North Africa. It was that which sent the most chills down the spine of retreating Moroccan infantry. What were their leaders doing while they died?

While Tangiers had been largely quiet after its occupation by the Spaniards lead echelons of the 13th Air Assault Division raced down the country on their UH-60 Blackhawks, escorted by the infamous RoLu-17 attack helicopters, trying to cut off giant columns of retreating Moroccan troops. Although by text book standards it was suicide to try to stop armored spearheads, the Spaniards were moving to stop men who tank’s were running out of ammunition, and out of sheer morale. In fact, so far, at least half of the tanks which remained from the total of a hundred had surrendered and had turned themselves over to Spanish control. Further incentive to surrender over to Spain was shown by the fact that those who did surrender were treated fairly, allowed to go back to their families in Tangiers without going through prison, or to do their own thing until the part of the country where their families lives were ‘liberated’. Although some escaped south to join their units, for the most part the venture had been successful, and the Moroccan army was peeling away minute by minute. The third day of the war was proving quite a disaster for Rabat. The end of the war seemed like only a short time span away, perhaps even shorter than the German advance over Poland, which had taken six weeks.

OOC: Erm, what about my offer of military aid?

[OOC: I didn't see any direct offer of aid, however, I'll try my best]

DataBurst to Moscow, Russia
Highly Encrypted

A political union between Moscow and Madrid would be most advantagous, I would like to think, for the both of us. With Spanish intuition and Russian manpower and industrial capacity the two could be amongst the strongest in the world.

However, we must insist on knowing what stance the Russians would take if the French and their eastern allies were to invade Spain. Would the Russians come to our aid? Or would the Russians quietly ignore the situation? Whatever your response, the immediate consequences would be none at all - any alliance between our two nations would stand. And we feel we must let you know that any threats to Russian sovereignty would be most verociously resisted by the Spaniards.

Moreover, Russian military aid would be quite handy, especially in the supression of the Moroccan resistance. However, we are not on a murderous campaign, we have our own designs for Morocco, and of course, we shall let you into the loops.

However, we should allow such discussions for more... private...sorroundings.

End Transmission

I have a few concerns about this SL. How can Spain, one of the poorest nations in Europe, field such incredible technology and mass mobilization. I think some adjustment needs be speculated upon.

It doesn't matter either way. We're running AMW off our NS stats, which are completely different from RL.

Bir-Lahlou

Arrival of the Spanish ambassador was greeted with some celebration by Polisario members. While many could still remember the days of Spanish imperial control over the region, they knew that the Frente coud not war against the entire world: Morocco had proven itself the greater enemy, and one which had to be overcome at all costs. The Spanish had not always lived up to their word, but there was a chance that they would, and any advantage needed to be taken.

Hagüera was taken to meet Mohamed Abdelaziz, President of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR, the provisional authority established by Polisario as the official government of Western Sahara, though as yet with little practical authority). Abdelaziz was eager to establish a formal treaty agreemen between Spain and the SADR, defining the border and guaranteeing its demilitarized status.
A key issue for Abdelaziz is Spanish agreement to recognize SADR nationalizationof Moroccan assets within Western Sahara once the Moroccan military is forced to withdraw. Also on the agenda are the region's phosphate mines... in exchange for Spanish silence when they moved into Western Sahara, Spain had been allowed to maintain 35% control of production. As the phosphate is a resource meant to be used for the good of the Saharawi people, the SADR wishes to re-examine that arrangement. For the sake of good relations, the share will not be arbitrarily terminated, but Abdelaziz is insistent that it be reduced down to a lower level.
Thanks to Spain is expressed for continuing to pay pensions owed to former colonial employees, one of the few income sources available to the Saharawi, and it is hoped that this will continue.

Somewhere along the Berm

The Berm was the great Moroccan fortification in Western Sahara, a literal wall of sand stretching 2,720 km, to divide Polisaio areas and Algeria from Moroccan holdings. Along its length it was fortified with forts, behind which could be found several rapid-reaction bases. Some estimates had determined that up to two million landmines had been placed along its length, and (in RL) well over 100,000 Moroccan troops (some credible estimates predict twice that number) were stationed along it or further out towards the coast, along with RADAR, UAV launch points, and heavy artillery designed to target and destroy Polisario forces before they could even approach the wall. Still, Polisario had found gaps and weaknesses to exploit, and now Morocco was facing invasion at home... they simply could not afford to leave the berm so fortified especially as it housed their more advanced sensor and artillery pieces.

http://www.wsahara.net/inimages/berm.jpg

Taking advantage of this, Polisario strikes along the Berm began. Simultaneously at a dozen points along the wall, near Moroccan forts, Polisario soldiers launched quick hit and run attacks, using assault rifles, makeshift mortars and grenade launchers, and the occasional RPG round. In the darkness of night, explosions pounded the Moroccan bunkers, tearing wire but doing little physical damage. Still, the point was psychological: demoralize garrisons already aware of losses back home, force the launch of UAVs and deployment of vehicles from rapid-response units... where they would expose themselves to vulnerability. Polisario was also engaging in a massive recruitment campaign amongst the men returning from Algeria, aware that its current forces were woefully inadequate against even a weakened Moroccan Army. They would be able to give a bloody nose to the Moroccans, but little more. Hopefully it would be enough to turn their hearts away from continued occupation.

((Hey, Maccabee, it wasnt a threat, you dig? It was a concern. Just like my concerns about "Spains military machine". France is much larger, and richer, than Spain, period. Even so, I maintain a rather small army, and my navy nearly caused riots to build money wise. Im not criticsizing, just concerned. That said, and since you seem to be Bourbon friendly in a sense, I would like to be friends. Care to send an Ambassidor to Versailles? After all, we have too much in common to be enemies.))

[OOC:
Elkazor: Of course. I've offered my assistance in Algeria in your own thread.]

--------------------------------

[Allah's Line: 30 Kilometers from the Straits of Gibraltar]
The ten T-72s guarding the approaches to the small city of Martil, northeast of Tetouan, did not flinch as the two RoLu-17 attack helicopters swept in from the north, keeping low, already hard to see with their small profile. The armored units had been told that they would have to hold the line until their comrades from the north arrived. What they did not know was that their comrades from the north had been either destroyed, or had surrendered, and so they were left alone. From over two kilometers distance, before the six tanks could respond, the two helicopters opened fire with their Ebro anti-tank missiles, which sped over the landscape, looking like two black dots, and finally shattered the thin top armor of the tank, shredding into the crew compartment, and blowing it up, slaughtering everything inside. In this manner four of the tanks were devastated, not one sign of life left. The tanks, apparently happy with their raid, turned back north.

Inside his T-72 Captain Farouk Al-hirazi swore under his breath. He had been ordered to stand outside of Martil in order to stop a "sudden Spanish offensive." If entire armored divisions had failed to stop the Spaniards how was his unit of six tanks supposed to stand? His logic was underscored by the loss of his four tanks to the almost unseen RoLu-17 attack helicopters. They would be back, and he would be their next victim. But he no longer cared, he rather die than fight in this world of insane leaders who threw away their men like trash.

The side of his tank rattled. He hurumphed, someone was looking for him. He popped open his hatch and wiggled through, sunlight going into his eyes like murderous rays. He looked down and saw Major Dalma' Isseel looking at him. He saluted and said with a heavy voice,"Yes my infallable commander?"

His rather sarcastic tone had punctured into the major and the more senior officer responded,"Well, I was going to tell you that we surrendered to the Spaniards. But I rather have you drive to their base and kill yourself now."

Al-hirazi laughed, and retorted,"Surrender to the Spaniards? When would the king do that?"

His major didn't laugh and instead solemnly said,"He didn't. We did. I passed the order only two hours ago. This city is Spanish, not Moroccan. They have promised us safe passage north, and we will lay down our arms and we will become civilians. I will not waste my men on fruitful wars with Spain, when they have proven that no fanatical resistance can break them."

The captain nodded. Some of the Moroccans would continue fighting of course, others would comply. So, the five hundred or so men inside Martil would surrender. He shrugged. So much the better.

[Asilah]
The small group of rubber rafts hit the shores south of Asilah, a large town some sixty kilometers south of Tangiers. Men garbed in black battle dress uniform jumped out, Hali-37 assault rifles at the ready, and began to traverse the sandy beaches. The entire lot of them did not go past a hundred men, however, their skill made them more valuable than a Moroccan armored division. They would break the Allah Line without Spain having to waste bombs on it. Martil had already surrendered. It was time to take the other extreme. Without flanking support the center could not hold for long.

They silently ran to the outskirts of the city, but then even the strongest of the commandos were panting. Their commander, Captain Victor Furrela, pointed them towards the city. Nobody would rest until Asilah was taken - those were the orders from Madrid. Furrela was not one to break orders, no matter how tired his men were.

They entered the dark streets of Asilah, witnessing the impoverished neighborhoods, and began to pass through the normal civilian housing. Their task was to take the city center and raise a Spanish flag before any of the defenders could take note of what was happening. If it succeeded then the defenders would be confused, giving time for Spanish air support to arrive, and that way 'persuade' the Moroccans that Asilah was truly taken.

However, the rear of the column a sharp explosion turned the mission awry. One of the commandos had hit a bounding antipersonnel mine, OZM class. The OZM series were known to for their bounding framentation effect, with each mine consisting of a main charge and a propelling charge. The young soldier's leg was blown off, and his body punctured with shrapnel. However, he did not die immediately. But, the team had no chance to pause for medical aid, and he was left to rot on the streets of Asilah, at least, until the rest of the team could complete their mission.

Furrela sprinted up and down the line muttering,"This goddamn fool has let the whole damn world know we're here. If the Moroccons catch us, it'll be with our fucking pants down. So get the move on ladies."

He ran back up the line to take lead of the unit, and not one second too soon. A small detachment of the local militia caught his men unawares on the back of their small Nissan pick-up truck, something that resembled one from the 70s. The machine gun fitted on the bed opened fire, however, quick return fire caught the crew in the head, and most of the militia was killed without any Spanish casualties. The rest melted away back into the streets. The car itself was blown to bits by a well placed Spanish grenade charge, making sure it wasn't used again.

The team moved faster this time. The militia was reacting to the recent explosions and it wouldn't take long before they could please a serious blockade against the Spaniards. It came about a block from the administrative center, after an hour of almost endless mazes of streets. Two truck fulls of Moroccan militia behind rudimentary barricades put up quite a fight against the elite Spanish commandos, killing three of them, however, well placed 5.56mm NATO rounds were able to disperse the poorly trained Moroccons and within twenty minutes the route to the royal mayor's residence was opened.

They rushed towards the building, and once they arrived twenty men secured the perimeter, ready to blow any militia men back to the stone age. Three machine gun emplacements were deployed around the building as the rest gathered near the main entrance. Kicking down the door with a small pack of explosives they rushed in killing anything in site. The entire population of the house would be slaughtered, regardless of rank or position. By the end of the massacre about sixty people were dead. These commandos had no room for love - just for work. And so, by the end of thirty long minutes the Spanish flag was flown over Asilah.

Minutes later the first of twenty RoLu-17 helicopters began to land in Asilah to make sure the city didn't feel like revolting. The Allah Line was crumbling.

[87th Canary Squadron, Canary Islands]
The Polisario's had finally begun their rolling offensive against the Berm, the divisor between the Polisario stronghold and the Moroccon stronghold. Consequently, a sovereign Western Sahara relied on a Spanish victory in Morocco. However, they would also need direct support, and the 87th Canary Squadron was poised in the Canary Islands to do so, although it was a real strain in resources. Nonetheless, they were a political necessity. There were about four aircraft of the squadron in Palma de Canarias to date, the other eight would arrive within the day. The 65th Squadron was also reported to arrive, however, they would be used for direct aid against Moroccon units in Southern Morocco, giving them hell from all sides.

It would be a hard war for Morocco, and it seemed that the French option had just been erased.

Images of the War

Knocked out Moroccon tank:
http://onlineathens.com/images/032003/war2.jpg

Another knocked out Moroccon tanks:
http://dahrjamailiraq.com/gallery/albums/album12/100_1974.highlight.jpg

Spanish MRLS First in Action:
http://www.war-veterans.org/pat1.jpg

Moroccan Army in Action:
http://www3.worldisround.com/photos/1/601/245_o.jpg

Moroccan SA-2 Guideline Battery Before Being Knocked out:
http://www.libyen-news.de/sa_2_guideline.jpg

Threats of a Resistance:
http://i.timeinc.net/time/photoessays/westbank/gunman.jpg

((Just a remark on the historical background. CNT, abbrev. for Conferacíon Nacíonal de Trabajo, was a labour union, not a party. Anarcho-syndicalists believe in the labour union as a revolutionary movement, as being in a party of any kind implies using/serving the authority and hierarchy that is destroying government and society in the first place.))

((Just a remark on the historical background. CNT, abbrev. for Conferacíon Nacíonal de Trabajo, was a labour union, not a party. Anarcho-syndicalists believe in the labour union as a revolutionary movement, as being in a party of any kind implies using/serving the authority and hierarchy that is destroying government and society in the first place.))

[OOC: Regardless of its official title the CNT, during the pre-Civil War era, was a political party, which held power inside the cortes. Surface impressions don't really matter. The CNT and the UGT, both syndicits in the modern era, were powerful in terms of politics before 1936, and thus are referred to as parties by most Spaniards, regardless of what they're 'official' title is.]

In a surprise that stunned Western Europe, an Airbus-1000 landed at Madrid Internation Airport.

On board was none other than M. de Vergennes, Minister of State to His Most Christian Majesty Louis XX.

He came with an offer of treaty and alliance, suggesting that the most appropriate course of action would be to send His Catholic Majesty Juan Carlos II to Versailles, with a representitive of Catalans Regime, that Louis XX his Royal Half-Brother and he might discuss the copious benefits of Franco (no pun) Spanish relations.

In either case, Vergennes suggests, would it not be sweeter to divide North Africa amicably than to fight? After all, Restoration France and Constitutionally Monarchical/Republican AND CATHOLIC!!! Spain have far too much in common, especially under the gaze of Christ, to ever take up arms against one another.

The Moroccan UAV had long been a standard sight over Polisario territory. The simple Moroccan battle plan: let Polisario attempt an attack. Locate attackers with UAVs. Use data to target massed artillery. Counter sporadic AA units, rarely seen due to Polisario's extremely limited resources, with fighter-bombers taking advantage of total air superiority. This time, as desert fighter scrambled back away from the berm with now-spent RPG launchers and mortars, their umanned pursuers took to the skies once again.

But this time was different from before. There was no air superiority... Moroccan aircraft could scarcely afford to remain stationed on the berm while Spain swept southward at home. By a twist of fate, the skies above Western Sahara had been substantially demlitarized.

This fact allowed the old Soviet AA vehicles of Polisario to do their work for the first time in over twenty years. Stationed well back from the attacks, where experience had taught them that Moroccan observers would fly, handfuls of ZSU-23 and SAM-6 systems let loose volleys to bring them down.

To a regular military, it would seem an odd effort, but to the Polisario it would be vital in the coming days. Without UAVs, the Moroccans would have no visual data on their advances. While their Radar net was still substantive, it could be fooled or overcome far more easily, and thus the devastating Moroccan artillery could be led astray, allowing employment of larger Polisario forces without being annihilated.

((It is interesting, then, that they never had a function resembling that of a party. While they acted as political bodies, and made political decisions thanks to their massive influence, they were labour unions. Well, UGT wasn't, but we're talking CNT here. While it may be a Spanish thing, the mere fact that they hold political influence does not make them a party.))

[OOC: Well, the fact that prior to 1936 the UGT and the CNT held seats in the Spanish parliament either makes them a party, or damn close to one. Now they're nothing more than syndicates, but I'm talking about prior to the Civil War, which is what my posts refers to.]


[Madrid, Spain]
The Airbus-1000 landed in Barajas International Airport alone, all other traffic told to circulate the fields until the French aircraft touched the ground, and the occupants were safely off the tarmac. The entire process took little more than thirty minutes, and already, a convoy of three armored limos, given escort by three SOV-06 IFVS, waited there, with Emperor Jonathan I inside. When the French finally exited the fairly large aircraft a butler opened the door to the center car, revealing the young Emperor, and the French piled in. The talks would be held in the car, as to not alarm any other nation - it would look like a mere talk between two countries, almost ready to go to war with each other. Indeed, the eventual outcome of the talks would startle the world, giving them the complete opposite of what they thought would conclude.

Inside Jonathan began to talk first. He shook the hands of the French representatives and said,"On the first note, Juan Carlos will be sent to Versailles, along with a representative of my regime, within twenty-four hours. They already have reservations at de Gaulle, and from there will make their way to the beautiful Versailles.

On another note, an alliance between France and Spain would be optimal, and perhaps the most needed thing for Europe. Imagine, a France and Spain, both Catholic, both Imperial, riding together. However, the split of North Africa will have to be discussed in detail."

The young Emperor took a gilded case out of an inside pocket and stretched it out to the French ambassador. He flipped it open, revealing a neat row of Cuban cigars, thick, black, and savvy. He took on for himself and stuck it in his mouth and then reached for a lighter. With that he lit it and took a drag, pointing his head the other way, and let loose a thick, grey, puff of smoke. The talks ahead were destined to be long, but deeply rewarding. A friendly neighbor to his north would allow him to focus his imperialism elsewhere, where he could allow his population to grow, and be on par with the other European powers, something that Spain needed without second thought.

However, wars were for the future. Not it was all about diplomatic tact.

[Las Palmas, Base de Aviacion No. 36, Islas Canarias]
The General Staff had not enough time, nor the money, to complete the subterranean airbases in the Canary Islands, but for now it wouldn't be too large of an issue, although for sure in the future it would be vital, in case some belligerent thought it necessary to occupy the Canaries before landing in Morocco or Spain.

The 87th Canary Squadron was already in the air, all twelve aircraft moving towards positions in the Western Sahara. The mission has been specified the night before in a midnight brief. The Polisario offensive, although going well, was going to hit a wall. Although the Moroccons were being mauled in the north, they were still strong. It was the same relation as the Germans during the Second World War. Although their defeat was inevitable, they were still strong, and they could still do damage. So, it would be the job of the 87th Canary Squadron to break the back of the Moroccon defense of the Bern, allowing the Polisario militia to smash holes through into the west of their country.

News of the massive anti-air campaign against Moroccon line UAVs and other AWACs and reconaissance aircraft had arrived at Air Base 36 hours before, and now it was time for the 87th Squadron to cut off the Moroccon RADAR and reconaissance net once and for all. Their sattelites had been destroyed, their UAVs under fire, and now their RADAR would be smashed, leaving them without a single eye.

They kept low, knowing that the Moroccon air force in the south was still around, altough they were moving north to stop the near constant Spanish air raids in that part of their country. Each aircraft was armed with eight MLAM-2 air to surface missiles, which boasted a 200kg Octagen warhead, and a regular fuel booster. Each of the missiles were fitted with RADAR seekers, which would home into the different RADAR stations dotting the Western Sahara.

From a range of over twenty kilometers the twelve aircraft swooped in and electrically fired their total of ninety-six MLAM-2 missiles. The missiles free fell for about six feet before their fuel injectors pushed them at around Mach 2.1, and then they shot across the desert, looking for RADAR installations, spotted by revolving sattelites orbiting the atmosphere of the Earth. The Canaries themselves weren't truly worried about the Moroccon response. Even when they entered the horizon of the older Moroccon RADAR their Wave-X radar absorbment material, and the geometric design of their frame, would make the aircraft flicker on and off on Moroccon RADAR, throwing off any surface to air missile operatives they had. After the RADAR was knocked out the SAMs wouldn't be much of a problem anyways.

The twelve aircraft banked, and then began to head back home. Behind them the eerie orange glow of fire spread over the horizon. Their missiles had found their victims.

[OOC: I didn't see any direct offer of aid, however, I'll try my best]

DataBurst to Moscow, Russia
Highly Encrypted

A political union between Moscow and Madrid would be most advantagous, I would like to think, for the both of us. With Spanish intuition and Russian manpower and industrial capacity the two could be amongst the strongest in the world.

However, we must insist on knowing what stance the Russians would take if the French and their eastern allies were to invade Spain. Would the Russians come to our aid? Or would the Russians quietly ignore the situation? Whatever your response, the immediate consequences would be none at all - any alliance between our two nations would stand. And we feel we must let you know that any threats to Russian sovereignty would be most verociously resisted by the Spaniards.

Moreover, Russian military aid would be quite handy, especially in the supression of the Moroccan resistance. However, we are not on a murderous campaign, we have our own designs for Morocco, and of course, we shall let you into the loops.

However, we should allow such discussions for more... private...sorroundings.

End Transmission

OOC: I believe I posted something earlier, but meh.
SECRET IC:

DataBurst to Madrid, Spain
Highly Encrypted

Do not worry about the French. They may be a bit loopy, but that goes for all aristocrats. But Louis is a good man underneath that wig and makeup. He won't do anything too crazy.

The Russian government has some very, very, very ambitious plans to reshape the face of the world as we know it. A vital part of these plans is to spread conservative democracy, and to establish bases in Africa. Spain's battles offer us a perfect chance to fulfill both. Specifically, we will be willing to contribute 30,000 military personell (OOC: I follow the American "rule of three", so 10,000 are troops, 20,000 are on ground logistics, and 10,000 are logistics operating from the home front) to Southern Morocco, in the city of Tarfaya. In exchange, we would require that the city and a slice of the area around it be permanently ceded to Russia.

Madrid, Spain
While the French ambassador sat next to the smoking Emperor a secret agent in the car handed over a PDA. The Emperor took a look at the words, it was apparently an ecrypted databurst from Moscow concerning the ongoing relations between the resurgent Spain and the Russian superpower. It seemed as if the Russians were looking for a slab of land in Morocco. He pondered to himself. The Spaniards would be able to finish off the Moroccons themselves, and the Russians were potential clinks in the chain which the Spaniards were going to build around Morocco, however, a Russian base also provided a firebase in case the Socialist scum in Hindustan decided that it was within their best interest to pick a fight with Spain.

He nodded a thanks to the agent and then began to write, keeping the PDA well away from the wandering eyes of the French diplomat. He smiled at the Frenchman, and then went to work, typing in what would be sent from the General Staff building through a sattelite, and then back to Moscow. It would have to be a quick message, as so not to attract the French diplomat too much...

Sattelite DataBurst to Moscow
Highly Encrypted
We must full heartedly agree with your proposition. Happy hunting gentlemen.

Polisario forces continued to press the Berm where air and radar gaps had appeared. It was difficult in places... artillery and counterstrikes by Moroccan aircraft pelted the men pushing against them, but in key areas headway was made. The Red Battalion, Polisario's only fully mechanized unit, breached the wall and assaulted a Moroccan rear artillery position. While losses were heavy for the battalion, a gap as opened through which dozens of small teams scattered out into the western regions. The Battallion was forced to withdraw when Moroccan aircraft moved against it, but soon the smaller Moroccan army garrisons in interior villages found themselves under attack by teams of determined guerillas.

Thousands of new recruits were being trained from the refugees evacuating Algeria, and Polisario was now facing a new difficulty: supplies of ammunition and equipment were dwindling with each passing day.

Suddenly, a new media advertising campaign runs in the territory of the Polisario and in Algeria...

"You want to have a revolution? You want to slaughter those Communist Pinko Bastards/Capitalistic Pig Dogs? But you have no weapons or ammunition? THEN COME ON DOWN TO CRAZY IVAN'S CRAZY WEAPON STORE! OUR AMMUNITION PRICES ARE CRRRRRAAAZZZY LOW! They so low they CRAZY! So come on down!"

OOC: Hint, hint Spyr...

______________________________________________________________

-Murmansk-

"Ahh..."

The waves crashed against the mighty destroyers, and the salty northern air filtered into her nose. It had been a long time since The Boss, the Russian Secretary Of Defense, had felt the thrill of battle, and longer still since she had been in a naval engagement. She watched as Russian troop transports, defended lightly by a smattering of destroyers and submarines (only a light escort was really needed, as the Spanish had pretty much taken taken care of the Moroccan Navy) began to leave the harbor. Her white armored body carried her to one of the two Missile Cruisers, Kirovs, that accompanied the fleet. They were loaded with precision cruise missiles, which would be a significant segment of the battle plan.

And off they went, to Tarfaya...
________________________________________________
Russian diplomats have made requests to the Spanish for airbasing rights in Gibraltar, and have also asked if any POWs who have any knowledge of Tarfaya could be transferred to Russian facilities for interrogation.
________________________________________________

-Earth Orbit-

Several thousand miles above the Earth's surface, Russian surveillance satellite Kosmos 1 received new instructions from Moscow. It used about one fourth of its propellant fuel to maneuver into geo-synchronous orbit above Tarfaya. Then, it immediately began snapping photos, which were analyzed by the KGB to determine the location of important command and control centers, SAM batteries, and enemy fortifications.

[OOC: I don't own the Gibraltar rock, the British still own that, but I am willing to give the Russians air bases within the peninsula of Gibraltar.]

[The Battle for Rabat]
The Allah Line sat suspended in mid-air, with both its flanks taken by the Spaniards. However, the line had given the Moroccons some two days of life, allowing them to transfer the remainder of their military, or at least what wasn't being used to stop the Polisarios in the Western Sahara, giving them a total troop strength of some fifty thousand infantry and two hundred tanks in the north. Their paper strength, however, did not translate when it came to effective combat. In short, these men faced the same torrent, only much stronger, faced earlier by Moroccon divisions, sealing their fate, and in the end the Moroccons had no more to put up against the Spaniards. In short, the war was over, and Morocco, save the Western Sahara, was destined to become another provence of Spain.

Two days after the taking of Asilah, Operation Escorial de Oro was about to begin. Three squadrons of Canary strike fighters, a complete set of thirty-six aircraft, shadowed the soft Moroccon sands as they sped towards the Allah Line, keeping rather low, out of the almost totally crushed Moroccon RADAR net. Their geometric construction, and the Wave-X radar absorbent material would make sure they would 'glitter' in the Moroccon target aquisition computers, which meant that the Moroccons would not be able to get a good enough read to use the little amounts of surface to air missiles they had left.

As fast as they had come, they fired, still low, and out of a tangible Moroccon RADAR lock. Two hundred and eighty-eight MLAM-2 air to surface missiles free fell for about six feet before their rocket boosters picked up their acceleration to around Mach .9. As the missiles rushed towards their targets the wind lashed around them, crafting strange patterns of air tides. The three squadrons of aircraft banked to turn around and headed back home, to their new airfields east of Tangiers. Behind them the horizon was marked with the explosions of the missiles hitting their targets, which included, RADAR arrays, large troop concentrations, and tank parks. Madrid was ready to get the war over with, and it was time to begin the more fast paced war. Almost a week of war had crushed the Moroccon army, and now it was time to totally finish it off and make a run for Rabat. If Rabat fell so would the rest of the country.

The preliminary bombardment would cause little damage, but it would shock the newly arrived Moroccon troops, who were already stricken with all the rumors of the war. The Foreign Legion had recieved replacements for the losses in Ceuta, and they were reinforced by the 13th Air Assault Division, which had done its own damage in Tangiers, giving Spain a total of thirteen thousand men in North Africa. However, for all the percieved weakness of this contingent Tangiers had been flocked by Spanish transports coverging on the recently captured port, and had outfitted both divisions with heavy amounts of SOV-06 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, specifically two hundred.

At around 0800 hours, thirty minutes after the aerial raid on the line, the two Spanish divisions began mop up operations around the Allah Line, ready to encircle and crush the recently arrived Moroccon divisions. Using to their advantage the fact that a Moroccon counter-attack was unlikely, given the fact that all signs pointed towards an emminent Spanish offensive, the Foreign Legion spread her men across the front while the 13th Air Assault Division concentrated itself around Asilah, ready to break through. At the set time the division and all of the new SOV-06 vehicles moved south for about two kilometers, meeting the resistance of two Moroccon infantry companies which quickly surrendered. Then the division turned back east, right into the rear of the Moroccon line. Kilometer by kilometer the Spanish forces 'rolled over' the defensive line, forcing the Moroccans to either surrender, or fight to the death. Of course, most of the Moroccon units took the chance to do the former.

However, the day was not as peaceful as it would seem. Die hard Moroccon units continued the fight in some areas, piercing the skies with the sound of small arms fire, and the large 15mm depleted uranium cannons on the SOV-06. The Moroccon armor also make a dash in an attempt to curtail the Spanish offensive, meeting the 'weaker' SOV-06 head on. The armored battle turned into a bloody slugfest as the depleted uranium shells ripped through the antiquated armor of the T-72s. However, the 125mm guns on the Soviet produced tanks also caused quite a bit of damage on the Spanish units, costing the lives of at least fifty crews. Regardless of Spanish loss, by the day's end the entire armored force had been squashed, giving the Spaniards unmigitated command of the battlefields.

The total casualties on both sides was rather high. The Moroccons claimed a death toll of just over two thousand infantry dead, and some one hundred and seventy tanks destroyed. The Spaniards claimed their own death toll at six hundred dead, including around fifty-three SOV-06 IFVs knocked out during the day's battle. Nonetheless, the casualties taken by the Spaniards had opened the road to Rabat. By the end of the next day the war would be over...

[OOC: Actually, now that I look on a map...Could I use the Canary Islands for basing? I know you have aerial presence there, but I could construct extra airfields...]

[OOC: Actually, now that I look on a map...Could I use the Canary Islands for basing? I know you have aerial presence there, but I could construct extra airfields...]

[OOC: Sure. I don't want to ruin the suprise, but I'm also going to launch operations against Portugal, and that means me occupying the Madeira chain of islands, just around the Canary Islands. So, once that comes into effect you can base them off there as well.]

Several wings of Russian MiGs and long range bombers deployed from western airbases in Europe (the little sliver of land I have next to Poland), and are on a course to the Canary Islands. Russian contractors are already busy constructing an airbase there, and enemy installations in Tarfaya have been mapped out and selected for targeting, so a hail of precision guided munitions will begin shortly...

The time had come.

M. de Vergennes had had enough time to gauge Emporer Catalan, who, far from supplanting the Bourbon bloodline in favor of a new dynasty, seemed to maintain in this new "Spanish Empire" a sense of concord.

Charles-Gravier, le Comte de Vergennes, indulged himself in a cigarette as well, his plump powdered face aglow the whole time, the rouge offsetting the deep black of his eyes.

"Monseigneur" said Vergennes "my master has a deep and profound respect for your cause. Indeed, he finds in your Catholic devotion simultaneously combined with your Christian militarism to be a very template. Truly I have come to offer you alliance of amity and commerce...but I perhaps have more to offer."

He presented the Emporer with a document. "Monseigneur, take the title of King of Spain, marry a Bourbon of that weaker branch, and Your Grace shall stand near to Louis himself! If you choose this route, I offer you immediate and full entrance into the Holy Leauge...in other words, Monseigneur: tkae what is yours to take by blood and deed, and recieve the Aegis of Holy Mother Church and the very will of God---Philip II could never had dreamed of the potential offered to you."

He sat back, and took a studied drag. "In either case, my lord, I am here to assure you of Frances desire to trade, and bind ourselves into defensive alliance."

In the middle of the night, a gaggle of delapidated freighters arrive off the Cabo Blanco. Nothing out of the ordinary on the outside, except that inside the freighters are crates upon crates of Milan missiles...

(OCC: Spyr suggested in a TG that I might look to the Polisaro front as an anti-imperialist effort to support in North Africa...so if you have objections please tell me.)

Russian Airforces arrive at the Canary Islands, and preperations are underway for an aerial assault. The Russian Fleet is currently rounding the bend around Spain, and had begun heading South...

Cape Blanc

From the Cape Blanc, Polisario's only access to the sea, a small fishing boat sets out to pilot the Hindustani vessels closer to shore, where they can be unloaded. The painful truth is that, even without RADAR coverage, the Moroccans could still launch air attacks against the few paltry harbours in Polisario hands should reports of activity reach them.

The Polisario were, in all honesty, quite concerned. They were a movement whichonce liberation had succeeded, would face Spain and France... two imperial states. Had they been hostile, it would have been possible to hope that the Saharawi would be safe alone, but the Moroccan monarch had been left unaided by his royal counterparts in Europe, and there seemed few signs of tensions.

There was also the issue of reconstruction. Morocco had actually been beneficial in terms of infrastructure construction in WS, with electrified homes per capita sometimes exceeding their domestic rate, and phosphates, iron ore, and fish were exports ready to be sent abroad for capital. The mutual-aid of Saharawi tribes could be co-opted to even diustribution and help the more needy, but the difficulty was great: some 160,000 Saharawi refugees were returning from Algeria. They had taken everything from their holdings there, but as they numbered more than half the base population of WS, international medical and food aid would be vital in the early months.

The Berm

The same night, Polisario launched its second major offensive, against the very edge of the wall as it approached the coast. The Red Battallion had been bolstered with new recruits riding the uboquitous HMG land rovers of Polisario forces elsewhere, along with the few battle tanks that could be mustered. Polisario unleashed a bombardment with its smattering of 155mm howitzers, followed by a fighting advance into the berm. Again, casualties were many, and the heavier vehicles withdrew after a breach had been made, but more units were scattered out ino the interior to harass Moroccan garrisons.

Along the rest of the wall, loudspeakers and radios sent out a smattering of messages, directed at the Moroccan defenders. These messages asked why they fought and died as occupiers here while their homes and families were falling to Spain in the north. Those who surrendered would be disarmed and returned home. Units which defected would have a place in the new independant state. And those who did not desire iether could just redirect their struggle from defending the Berm to defending their homes.

In this manner, Polisario hoped to revive the waves of defections and desertion which had plagued Moroccan forces before the 80s cease-fire.

On the decks of the freighters, Hindustani Navy and West African sailors currently under the auspices of the Foreign Affairs Ministry, dressed as your standard regional cargo hauler crew, watch the sea and sky. While they aren't terribly obvious, older SA-7 shoulder launched SAMs, 12.7mm AA machine guns, and 14.5mm AAA guns are not far out of reach.

The lead freighter, a rusty ship years past its prime, prepares to recieve the fishing boat. A Hindustani Commander sits on the bridge, and in the hold are crates of fairly generic, but Hindustan-made nonetheless, weapons systems. All of ten disassembled MiG-21s are carried aboard the freighters, as are SA-3 complexes, Milan missiles, 76mm light guns, and even some 130mm D-36s.

While weapons are clearly what the Polisaro seem to need at present, the HN Commander also intends to assess the humanitarian needs. The Popular Congress always feels apprehensive when it approves support for a military movement, and is ever eager to put its considerable humanitarian experience to practice.

[OOC: As movements go, Polisario is actually rather amazing in its tactics: unlike many liberation groups, it has hitorically not resorted to civilian terrorism... there is a clear separation of Moroccan military targets and Moroccan-controlled economic infrastructure from civilian targets, and UN inspectors have found that in Polisario refugee camps, civilian hospitals are exclsively civil without military presence, and aid to civilians is delivered to those civilians, rather than being diverted for military applications. They aren't perfect, but one of the reasons I jumped in to RP on their behalf is that they belong to that select minority of political struggles which seem to uphold the separation between their goals in conflict and humanitarian considerations on both sides].

Cape Blanc

As the Hindustani ships are positioned and unloaded, the crews cannot help but see the excitement in the eyes of the Polisario soldiers... since the fall of the USSR, the movement had recieved little support or its efforts, and access to even light guns would greatly boost the capabilities of a force where the majority were operating HMG land rovers or serving as camel rifles.

IC:

The freighters are quickly emptied, and a few advisors step off the boats as well. Some are concerned with the military aspect of Polisaro operations, while others are international development experts tasked with assessing the infrastructural needs of a united Western Sahara.

Upon further consideration, it is decided to supply the Polisaros with 140mm export versions of the highly successful R. 130 light MRL. The R. 130 will probably suit Polisaro needs much more readily, especially since the 76mm guns are more anti-tank weapons than anything else. While possessing some anti-tank capability with generic 140mm ammunition at close range, the R. 130 is much more of a stand-off weapon to be used against bases and strongpoints up to ten kilometers away.

Hindustan would supply the Polisaros with more modern Hindustani weapons, but it is feared that evidence of Hindustani involvement will target Western Sahara for imperialist aggression. If the Polisaros want more up-to-date Hindustani systems, they can have them, but only if they themselves ask.

But one thing is for certain: Cape Blanc will see a good deal more freighters in the near future.

OCC: That's good. I didn't know that at all, Spyr. That's for RL, right? Amazing if that's the case.

[OOC: Its true. Unfortunately, in RL, they were founded by overt Marxists, and early on had socialist policies about pan-African revolution. The USSR gave them some equipment, but it triggered the US to give the Moroccans the full range of modern US tech... UAVs, radar artillery, Abrams tanks, F-16 and F-18s, and thousands upon thousands of bloody mines... Polisario stopped talking about Marx soon after, and limited their statements to only encompass Western Saharan independance, but they remain largely ignored: Morocco is too powerful to force out militarily, and though the UN has declared the occupation illegal and demanded a referendum, there arent any countries who would try to force the issue: the US and France tacitly support the Moroccan government, Spain continues to control a sizeable portion of the phosphate ndustry as part of Moroccan occupation, and traditional allies in Algeria and Libya have dropped support substantially so as not to 'rock the boat' with Morocco. Understandable, considering Morocco's substantial military power, but unfortunate, as its rare to find a similar movement with as positive a humanitarian record. Though, among other things, they have violated Geneva... i think theyve got a few Moroccans who have been held as POWs for over 20 years, even after a cease-fire was arranged.]

OCC: From what I read, many of the POWs were written off by the Moroccan government and refused entry back into Morocco when released.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polisario_Front

The time had come.

M. de Vergennes had had enough time to gauge Emporer Catalan, who, far from supplanting the Bourbon bloodline in favor of a new dynasty, seemed to maintain in this new "Spanish Empire" a sense of concord.

Charles-Gravier, le Comte de Vergennes, indulged himself in a cigarette as well, his plump powdered face aglow the whole time, the rouge offsetting the deep black of his eyes.

"Monseigneur" said Vergennes "my master has a deep and profound respect for your cause. Indeed, he finds in your Catholic devotion simultaneously combined with your Christian militarism to be a very template. Truly I have come to offer you alliance of amity and commerce...but I perhaps have more to offer."

He presented the Emporer with a document. "Monseigneur, take the title of King of Spain, marry a Bourbon of that weaker branch, and Your Grace shall stand near to Louis himself! If you choose this route, I offer you immediate and full entrance into the Holy Leauge...in other words, Monseigneur: tkae what is yours to take by blood and deed, and recieve the Aegis of Holy Mother Church and the very will of God---Philip II could never had dreamed of the potential offered to you."

He sat back, and took a studied drag. "In either case, my lord, I am here to assure you of Frances desire to trade, and bind ourselves into defensive alliance."

OOC- Bumps it. Maccabee, mon cher, things are moving quickly, and God how we need an active Spain. CAVETE HINDUSTANII!

Just an OCC note, its more or less going out of your way if you discover Hindustani involvement in Western Sahara. The whole reason why the Polisarios aren't surmounting the Berm in TC. 3s and Scorpion 90/75s is because the government doesn't want to attract undue attention and doom the Polisarios by giving them overt aid. Of course, what would you want with Western Sahara? Its considered by many sources the least densely populated country in the world, and I don't know of any natural resources to be found there. Its not as though Hindustan will suddenly find itself with a navy fit to take on France, Italy, and Spain, especially so close to their major fleet bases.

OOC: One word: Phosphates. Its not oil, but its at least something.

Madrid, Spain
The young Emperor took another drag, listening to the French ambassador and when his friend had finished he spoke up,"Hmmm, your offer is quite...enticing. I can marry a Bourbon, that should be no problem at all. Perhaps a cousing of the old Juan Carlos, perhaps a daughter of one of the nieces, it matters little."

But, his mind soon turned elsewhere,"I am Emperor of Spain, according to the title awarded to be by the people, much how Napoleon III was crowned. I have already been crowned by the Church, and to turn into a king would be difficult at best. It would show to the world, and to my people, that I can have two sides, and that can never be good. The best I can offer to you is to become Emperor of Spain, which is what I already am."

He took the Cuban cigar out of his mouth, his speech being slurred, and then continued,"However, I don't see how it matters. In the end the Bourbons will retain some sense of power, as they are married to the Emperor, and in the end the throne is absolute."

He soon took another twist in the meeting,"An economic alliance is sound, however, I have something better to offer Paris. In fact, this should come easy, since you have opened the entrance to the Holy League. I offer you, right now, a full military alliance between our two humble countries. You are being attacked by the Socialist, and under the terms I propose, Spanish troops will soon find themselves defending French islands in the Pacific. Of course, speaking in military terms, this will actually come much harder than it sounds, since our fleets are currently being built in Chinese ports, and it will take at least three years to complete the task force I envisioned, but nonetheless, we can work something out."

He then took the cigar and plopped it between his lips again, and waited for the Frenchman to respond.

[Rabat, Morocco]
The city was open, Moroccon armies torn apart the day before north of the city. Spanish light armor was moving fast, infantry waiting inside ready to take the city in a bloody house to house fight. However, simply put, Morrocon royalty didn't have the guts to fight it out - they knew that the end was already scripted. So, they had decided to save their skin, and sell their country out. They had already witnessed what happened with other world leaders when Western powers had come to conquer them - no matter how much equipment the USSR and the Americans had pourn down their throats.

Consequently, Spanish commander in North Africa, Alfredo de la Cruz, met the aged Moroccon king north of Rabat, at his command post. He was presented with the terms that the royal family of Morocco would be allowed to live freely in Lybia, a fellow Muslim country. For that, the entire Morrocon army would surrender, and Morocco would be Spanish. Nothing about the Western Sahara was mentioned - Spanish aid to the Polisario was already well known.

The war, at least this war, was over.

[Tangiers, Morocco]
The young lieutenant threw a manila folder on top of the CoSNA's (Chief of Staff, North Africa) desk. The general looked up and then opened the folder and passed over the information given to him. He turned back to the lieutenant and asked,"What the hell is this?"

The younger man, still confident, snapped to attention and began to spill out the intelligence,"Sir, Spanish agents in the Polisario had uncovered something strange, and this couples with intelligence from our sattelites."

The CoSNA shrugged and retorted,"And that would be?"

The lieutenant continued,"Turns out that that the Western Sahara has gotten quite a bit of commercial activity, and not that owned by the Moroccans, but that controlled by the Polisario. Then, hours later, Polisario units have been seen with Soviet grade weaponry. Local intelligence claims that these aren't Russian suppliers, and that some, while African, others are Indian."

The CoSNA nodded his head and shooed the younger man out, giving his thanks. He then reached for his secured phone and punched the keys in for the General Staff in Madrid,"These Hindustan bastards are creating trouble."

Things were getting hotter than ever...

OOC: Sorry I haven't posted in a bit, but I've been really busy. I'll get something soon, so just count it as retroactive, alright?

OOC: Three questions:

LRR: ...did you include dissasembled MiG aircraft in your shipment?

Elkazor: In RL, Algeria had partially-ceded the Tindouf region, site of the major Saharawi refugee camps, to SADR control, in essence maintaining territorial integrity with the territory but surrendering all of the functions, if not the letter, of sovreignty. I have assumed that the monarchist regime and its French backers would not be in favour of continuing that arrangement, and with success in Western Sahara proper, refugees are dismantling everything they can and hauling it all across the border. This is, however, a slow process, and Polisario forces, scattered but entrenched rifles, mostly... are holding the inner division with Algeria to cover the refugee retreat in the event of an Algerian attempt to reintegrate the territory before everyone and everything has been successfully moved. I've als assumed that the Algerians are aware of this and have just been letting them go, but I thought I'd better check if they have been taking any hostile actions?

Armandian Cheese: You are establishing a base at Tarfaya, as per agreement with Spain, yes? The area contains some not-insubstantial oil fields, stretching further south into Western Sahara. Is your zone of control restricted to the city itself, or does it include those oil areas? And, if so, is the Western Saharan-Moroccan border line respected?]

IC:

The news of Moroccan surrender swept across Western Sahara. Infiltrators in the Western occupied areas led crowds of Saharawi into the street in public celebrations, as efforts are taken to find suitable civil administrators and form local committees... the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic had technically been founded in 1976, and had held administrative authority in a largely-unrecognised (70 countries in RL, though Euro-American support is rather absent) capacity for a handful of days, before Moroccan-Mauritanian forces had swept in to occupy their land. Fearing a repeat of history, Polisario intended to make SADR a more stable reality before the various Afro-European powers decided that the sparsely-populated region ought to be occupied once again. SADR flags were erected on buildings, vehicles, and even random dunes in the rocky deserts, free to fly at last.

http://www.wsahara.net/images/flaganim.gif

For the Moroccan troops on the Berm, morale could not have been lower. They had been pounded intermittently with artillery, as well as machine-gun fire from both sides, but that could have been lived with. Then they had been pelted from the air by Spanish attacks... and every soldier could not help but be aware that most of the berm emplacements were worthless against bombing, or even the heavier artillery that had begun to fire from the Polisario side. Lacking large swathes of their UAV and RADAR nets, they had been blinded for the first time in a decade, and their training, locate and destroy at range, had been rendered nearly worthless. Now, finally, their monarch had agreed to exile and surrendered Morocco to the Spanish invaders, with no one on the berm having had a chance to fight for their homes.

It was to those disheartened men that Polisario turned to issue an order to surrender... after being disarmed, soldiers would be free to return home to Morocco. Not every unit surrendered folowing this order, with stalemates and gunfights continuing across much of the country's north, but in the southern areas village garrisons surrounded by an excited populace, and berm holdings afraid of isolation and worried for their families back home, proved more amenable... combined with a small pattering of ongoing defections, large sections of the berm were opened and civilian Saharawi began their return home, while Polisario fighters found themselves in possession of heavier artillery pieces and radar systems, their confidence and determination bolstered by the fall of the Moroccan monarchy.

http://www.tkb.org/documents/Groups/GR4205_fighters.bmp

In the interior, an amnesty was also declared for those administrators who had gone over to the Moroccan side... over the past decades, many had seen the Moroccan military dominance and lack of international assistance as insurmountable, and had crossed over... while there were still grudges amongst hardline Polisario officials, it was felt that after experiencing thirty or forty years fighting without allies could seem understandably bleak, and there was no reason to cut such individuals out of the bureaucracy, where they could continue assisting the Saharawi populace as they had tried under occupation.

From its capital-in-exile in Tindouf, in the midst of packing and moving back to Western Sahara, the SADR issues a statement calling upon the international community to recognize their nation, and to provide humanitarian assistance: key areas are infrastructure materials, construction equipment, medicines, and foodstuffs. Currency loans and donations are also requested, with the primary purpose of 'buying out' Moroccan colonists and their businesses so that Moroccans could return home and Saharawi could take the reins of their own economy.

OOC- Spyr, The Kingdom of Algeria, that body which Louis I rules, ends at Laghouat and Ft. St. Joan. Southern Algeria, that vast wasteland, was deemed by by Louis and His Most Christian father in law to be inconsequential...containing as it does not even 6% of the Algerian population and even less of the countries tangible resources. Soon, that vast land will be given under mandate to Roycelandian/Ahzadi 'peacekeepers' and when they arrive to take control, they can decide what to do. As far as Im concerned, in the mean time, if they do not threaten Louis I's regime, they can flee unabated.

Madrid

Charles-Gravier performed an intricate bow before the Emporer, the kind Versailles was known for.

"Monseigneur, the crown you now wear bears a luster as noble as any kingly title ever has. On behalf of my master, His Most Christian Majesty Louis XX, your brother in the eyes of Holy Mother Church (he thought 'hopefully soon more direct relations'), I accept your offer."

"If I may quickly say, my lord, your status as Emporer more than entitles you a seat at the Holy Leauge, It will grant you allies of might, and secure the western Mediterranian in a triumverate of Catholic powers: France, Spain, Italy; an fortress. That is at your discretion, however. The Emporer of Spain, the King of France, the Caesar of Rome, and the Tsar of Estenlands standing side by side!"

"Monseigneur, one more thing, would you heart be moved perhaps to marry a French Bourbon? All Versailles awaits the arrival of Your Imperial Majesties grace."

Another intricate bow.

((Okay, I can understand if you dont want to join the Holy Leauge per se, if you decide not to we can do something like a "Pact Famille" that existed between France and Spain in the Ancien Regime.))

OCC: Yes, ten MiG-21s...although it doesn't look like you'll be needing them now...the Polisarios can keep them if they want or sell them.

Its depressing to see my sincere humanitarian concerns once again mistaken for geostrategic manouvering. If only all countries were as naieve and pure as Hindustan...

IC:

With the Polisarios now within a hair's breadth of victory, the nature of Hindustani support changes from primarily military equipment to almost exclusively infrastructure-building materials. Construction machinery, prefabricated housing, mine clearing gear, and advisors are all provided to the new Saharawi government.

As far as the Hindustani government is concerned, it is doing its duty and contributing to international development and improved conditions for human beings. Any sort of geostrategic agenda is off the table...as was quite blatantly displayed in Al-Ahzad where Hindustan continues to supply massive amounts of aid to the government there despite its status as a virtual puppet state of France. The government has no taste for stuffy and ambitious despots and strongmen, and would rather ignore them.

[Tangiers, Morocco]
The small port was full of logistical personnel running back and forth, while small and large ships swayed in the cold waves of the habor's waters. Spanish flags filled the skyline of the port area, especially concerning the amount of transport ships. Overhead large amounts of aircraft were flying, protecting those below. Madrid was not taking any chance with the operations to come.

The Spanish military was amongst the smallest in Europe, even after the quick mobilization of forces. To date Catalan had been able to equip and mobilize five infantry divisions, a full one hundred thousand soldiers, two air assault divisions, around twelve thousand men, and the foreign legion, another seven thousand men. Two armored armies had also been deployed to the French border, giving the Spaniards an armored strength of some six thousand tanks. However, recent events concerning diplomacy with France had reduced the urgency of a Spanish military presence in the north, and it freed up forces for the eventual invasion of other weaker states sorrounding Spain - countries needed in order to boost the Spanish population, that way able to mobilize an army on par with the larger nations of the world.

Morocco presented another thirty million people to the Spanish population, giving the new Spanish Empire a population of around seventy million souls. Of course, Madrid was a long shot away of developing an army based around Moroccon recruits, although it would become reality soon enough. Regardless, in order to begin the process of 'Spanification' the conquerors would have to show a short leash on their new Moroccon servants, and would have to show that Spain came as friends, not conquistadors. So, soon enough, only the foreign legion would stay in Morocco, spread throughout the country, ready to put down any Islamic rebellions, although the Spanish would do what was in their power to make sure that Islam became a friend of Spain, not a potential for disaster in Morocco. These ships were designed to transport the two air assault divisions back to Spain, where they would find new deployment areas behind the lines, facing the Portuguese border.

Nonetheless, events were moving fast around the world, especially in Asia, and so events would have to move fast in North Africa as well...

[Casablanca, Morocco]
The mosque stood gallantly against the bright sunlight, pouring over the port city. Casablanca had once been a central keystone in Operation Torch, the Allied invasion of Nazi controlled North Africa. It would also serve as a keystone of Spain's pacification policies against the Moroccons. The mosque was in between services, which gave Spanish police forces, meaning a company of the foreign legion, an opening to begin their 'pacification' operations in Casablanca.

A single squad of the company, twelve men, armed with the much more expensive Hali-21 assault rifles, as opposed to the general use Hali-37 assault rifles, moved in by two SOV-06 infantry fighting vehicles. With little traffic on the street the IFVs rolled right infront of the facade of the building, and the rear ramp smashed down, revealing six men from the squad in each vehicle. The 15mm depleted uranium guns on the SOV-06 turned towards the main entrance, and each vehicle let out a short spurt of five rounds which threw the wooden doors open. The squad moved foward and then into the building, making sure to complete the operation fast, as it could bring the entire city of Casablanca to rebellion of given enough time.

Moving fast the squad made sure not to kill any civilians and they were lucky that the mosque didn't have a security of its own, most likely because the religious leaders of the country hadn't the time to form their own militias. Finally, mowing into the mosque's imam's quarters they gunned the older man down without mercy and then took his body and dragged it to a balcony portruding for the building...

[Television Africana, Televisions and Radios across the Country]
Television Africana had been created in less than twelve hours, ordered urgently by the government. It would be the means to keep the peace in Morocco, or so the Emperor hoped. With religious leaders, at least the more powerful ones, across the country now dead by the hands of Spanish soldiers, Morocco would soon become a fire pit if something wasn't done fast.

And so, Iria Karmini, a Ceutan, was hand picked by Catalan for the task of keeping Morocco in peace. He wore standard religious dress, nothing too materialistic, and stepped in front of the camera, taking seat behind the desk waiting for him there. He opened his mouth to speak,"People of Morocco, I myself called for Spain to execute those devils who call themselves believers of Allah. They are traitors to Morocco! They desire to use Moroccon blood to gain control of the country from the Spaniards and impose yet another draconian dictatorship! I could not allow that!

The Spaniards have been benevolent with us. They do not want to change our lives, they do not want to interrupt our religion. They come to Morocco only to liberate, although I understand this might be hard to believe. But do not doubt me! I have been elected by then to become the Satrap of Morocco, and I will do my best to keep those imperialist Spaniards at bay, and make sure that Morocco receives the best.

Furthermore, the Emperor of Spain, our Emperor for now, has also called for the building of more mosques throughout Morocco and Spain, and has given a general amnesty to Moroccon criminals in Spain, allowing them to return home if they wish. Is this not benevolence? I think so.

Children of Allah do not rebel against those who wish to help you in your plight. The Spaniards are not here to steal Allah away from us. They are merely here to enhance Moroccon interests. Please, take that in mind.

Finally, the Emperor has decided to allow a public vote in Morocco to take place, choosing new religious leaders, and provencial governors to democratically administrate Morocco. Be thankful soldiers of Allah, be thankful."

It was a bit... hasty and unprepared...but it would do the trick. The cameras shut off.

((OOC: I don't have much time (I'm sorry, school is carving out my time and...emotional issues...are carving out my writing ability. I'll get an update on Friday. But to answer your question, Spyr, I will respect all Western Saharan borders. What I believe I'm getting is the southern slice of Morocco. The oil fields, while certainly useful, aren't my main concern...<Insert maniacal laughter here...>))

Madrid

Charles-Gravier performed an intricate bow before the Emporer, the kind Versailles was known for.

"Monseigneur, the crown you now wear bears a luster as noble as any kingly title ever has. On behalf of my master, His Most Christian Majesty Louis XX, your brother in the eyes of Holy Mother Church (he thought 'hopefully soon more direct relations'), I accept your offer."

"If I may quickly say, my lord, your status as Emporer more than entitles you a seat at the Holy Leauge, It will grant you allies of might, and secure the western Mediterranian in a triumverate of Catholic powers: France, Spain, Italy; an fortress. That is at your discretion, however. The Emporer of Spain, the King of France, the Caesar of Rome, and the Tsar of Estenlands standing side by side!"

"Monseigneur, one more thing, would you heart be moved perhaps to marry a French Bourbon? All Versailles awaits the arrival of Your Imperial Majesties grace."

Another intricate bow.

((Okay, I can understand if you dont want to join the Holy Leauge per se, if you decide not to we can do something like a "Pact Famille" that existed between France and Spain in the Ancien Regime.))

OOC- Not to be rude, but, ahem....

The Emperor nodded back and replied,"Your cordiality is greatly appreciated, and we must feel obligated to accept your offer for entrance into the Holy League. I cannot envision a much greater honor than to fight alongside the Catholic powers of Europe. For too long Europe has been moving into the backwater of world politics, in the face of Russian, Chinese, Indian and other Asian expansion. I thank you so much for what France has done to Spain, and the future France has ensured for the Spanish Empire. Indeed, perhaps this new Franco-Spanish alliance is simply the greatest thing to ever happen to Spain.

As for marrying a French Bourbon, I willingly accept. Perhaps we can design a ball or something of the like for me to meet someone that your king approves of.

Again, thank you, thank your king, and thank France for what has been done to Spain. We will never be able to repay you, but I can promise Spanish blood for the defense of the Holy League."

The car had made a giant circle around the city, and now it came back to the airport, where it stopped, ready to let the French diplomat go back to Paris. The Emperor shook the man's hand and bowed as the cheffeur (sp?) opened the French man's door. An epic agreement had just been verbally signed.

Vergennes bowed as best he could in the limo, before it dropped him off.

"Monseigneur, you honor my master and myself. I may only say that, if you were willing, Versailles stands open to you! There is a Congress occuring there right now, to determine the actions of the Holy Leauge in the face of Igovian bellidgerance (fun pun, I thought). If I may be so bold, Sire, His Most Christian King is most eager to meet you. Versailles is not too far."

He then bowed again.

News of the Spanish Empires entrance into the Holy Leauge was soon making its way across the world. In Versailles, Louis XX ordered four great bronze medallions to be struck, there discription is as follows, and one was sent to each of the four Holy Leauge monarchs:

They are great bronze disks, about 6' in diameter, lined with silver filgree. On them, figures of carved porphyry are impressed. From left to right the impressments are: the profile of Caesar Maximus, titled Caesar Maximus Imperatorissmi. The profile of Tsar Wingert I, titled Vingertius Lavragerianus.The profile of King Louis XX, titled Ludovicus Formosus 'the Beautiful'. And Emporer Jonatan titled Jonus Magnus. Standing shoulder to shoulder and all wearing stern faces, they were dressed alike in paludementa (the military cloak of Christianized Roman Emporers) and resplendant in their own individualized crowns marked with the symbols of their house. Behind them is a magnificent visage of the risen Christ with the caption "Conquer in my name and the gates of hell shall crumble before you"; the risen Christ's power seems to be reflected in the stance of the four Monarchs Supreme.

The title of the disks, written in gold letters at the top, reads "The Most Holy and Invincible Tetrarchy of the Holy Leauge."

Thousands of smaller disks, copies of the four largest (intended for Louis, Jonatan, Wingert and Caesar) were going to be given out to honored subjects. The disks were each priceless, as they must have been to inagurate a new and glorious phase of Holy Leauge might.

The Polisario government is also informed that, if it wants, a Hindustani surface task group could deploy off the coast as a deterrant to possible European aggression and to help enforce the nation's neutrality.

The Polisario government is also offered, in addition to the copious amounts of humanitarian aid, some naval vessels as well. Type 12M frigates or Baluchistan-class missile boats could be provided for free.

It is also suggested that the Polisario movement reach out to England and Quinntonia so as to appear less like fair game in the eyes of greedy continental despots. Hindustan, regarded as a less than equal power (despite the fact that Hindustani money keeps a large portion of planet earth from starving to death!), could bring unwanted attention onto Western Sahara and an association with TBF or Quinntonia could be more beneficial in the long term (although Hindustan doesn't ask for anything in return for help.)

bump

SADR diplomats-in-exile, many making plans to return home to assist in establishing the new government, begin to pay visits to key states whose recognition is deemed particularly important. Internationally, London and Washington are seen as key, along with the Hindustani support already given. Regionally, the Spanish and Algerians, as well as Roycelandia and African powers such as the African Commonwealth, Strathdonia, are particular targets for approach. Recognition from Al-Ahzad is also sought... many in Polisario see lessons in its recent history that might be applied to their own efforts, though the outporing of non-conditional Hindustani aid to SADR leaves many suspicious of their French connections.

Across Western Sahara, tribal leaders and Polisario members meet, beginning to establish local governments along the lines of Polisario's world-renouned administrations in the Tindouf refugee camps. Tens of thousands of Moroccan soldiers are disarmed and escorted on foot to the border, where they cross into occupied Morcco.

Loans are sought from international banks, totalling several million dollars, which is used to pay compensation to Moroccan-owned businesses... under the occupation, Saharawi had been barred through racial discrimination from heading up most companies and enterprises: the SADR now instituted a forced buyout (some might say nationalisation) of those entrprises, handing them over to their Saharawi middle-lower managment, under the auspices of local tribal committees.

Hindustani offers of naval vessels are welcomed: the oceans off Western Sahara are some of the richest fishing waters in the world, violated at various times by Spanish, European, Moroccan, and other African fishermen. Securing the coast and fishing grounds is seen as key to fuyture economic prosperity and political stability.

Ready to serve in the fisheries protection role, two Type 12 frigates head towards Cape Blanc. Formerly part of the abortive Nigerian task force, they should certainly be able to perform such a role well, and are not far away at all. They should be in position within a day's sailing.

The frigates will also bring the Hindustani ambassador to the SADR, who will himself come with a library of various documents and information.

Freighters also continue to bring aid to the small nation, although its nature has shifted from primarily military to primarily humanitarian in nature. Nonetheless, a pair of Type 21 frigates, formerly sitting in an unused corner of Karachi harbor, are quickly towed into drydock and given major upgrades. It is fairly clear where they will be headed to. Surplus Baluchistan-class boats will likely also be provided, along with more MiG-21s and surplus MiG-23s.

But Hindustani diplomats, especially in continental Europe, stress the fact that aid is non-conditional, driven out of Hindustani desire to see prosperous and humane nations develop. Poverty, disease, and civil war are much greater enemies than the French armada. Quinntonia and England are bombarded with communiques, urging them to look into supporting, or at least recognizing, the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic.

erm...bump

erm...bump

[OOC: Hey man, I'm really sorry I sorta left this in the dirt. I will respond to this sometime this week, or early next week. I've just been working my ass off for prom. Again, sorry for the wait.]

[OOC: Hey man, I'm really sorry I sorta left this in the dirt. I will respond to this sometime this week, or early next week. I've just been working my ass off for prom. Again, sorry for the wait.]

No sympathy! No sympathy!

Mumblemumble prom organizer mumblemumble, I'll mumble show you what!

*Skulks away*

You and your social life...

Versailles has made a few calls to the Madrid Palace.

His Most Christian Majesty was set to visit Madrid, for the first time, as the final and most glorious leg of his Royal Tour.

Louis XX truly desired to meet with Juan I, whom he admired so much for his Catholic value and compatriot spitit. A little known secret, just revealed to Madrid, was that Louis intended to bring with him his only daughter, Madameoiselle Royale Antoinette.

Only a select few even knew of her existance, she was now just turned 19 and had spent her life in cloistered at the exclusive aristocratic nunnery of Notre Dame. Named by birth for her beauty, she was stunning. With Louis' dark eyes and Marie Thereses' blond hair, she was stunning, the visage of a princess, and of near pure Bourbon blood.

It is indubitable that Louis shall ask Juan Catalan to marry his daughter, thereby creating a new Bourbon/Catalan line in Spain of the purest sort, and within the Holy Leauge itself forming a most close tie of relations. A tie of relations that in the Ancien Regime was referred to as le Pact Famille.

Bump!

Bump!

[OOC: Aight bros, prom ended so I'll get my response up here soon enough. Chill till' then amigos.]

((hey, no thing, please take your time. Just preventing this uber-important thread from sinking into obscurity. Ciao!

[Madrid]
[OOC: I didn't know where to role play from, so I'm assuming you're arriving at Madrid and haven't handed the hand of your daughter just yet.]

The Airbus again landed in the Barajas airport in Madrid, cleared from all civilian traffic just for the purpose or receiving the French king, Louis XX, and his guests. Juan stood erect, in full military garb proper for any king, white suit stainless and pressed against his strong upper body and his strong legs. Beside him stood his top generals, responsible for the overall success of the stunning Moroccon campaign, steel swords silently swinging at their sides. Four black Alfa Romeo cars, specially designed for the Spanish royalty by British companies operating in Northern Spain, were parked behind the Spanish entourage, ready to take the Spaniards and the French to the Royal Palace at Aranjuez, away from the cacophony of Madrid.

When the door to the Airbus opened Juan smiled as he saw the French king. But then his smile faded into a serious delight as he saw who came after him. She was beautiful, and he was mezmerized by her presence. She had dark, European eyes, and her blonde hair draped from her head in the most beautiful of patterns. He gasped, but quickly regained composure before anybody could notice. He began to walk over to the steps as the King and the beautiful girl finalized their trip down the staircase. He nodded and embraced Louis XX, shaking his hand with power. He then stared at the woman in the eyes and kneeled, taking her hand, and kissing the back of the pale work of art softly in the back. He then stood again and gracefully said,"And dear, is it convention for me to ask what your name is? I would most like to know who this beauty is, for I have seen nothing like it before."

He smiled, revealing neat white teeth and the days of old, when he was just an American teenager swept over him. He thought of his past relationships but within seconds he was back to this girl. Regardless, he couldn't help giggling inside - she was indeed a godess.

[OOC: My computer randomly shuts off because my mom broke it when she moved it and thus I will stop here, or risk losing the entire post. Later on I will post about army movements and more recruitment and about things in the Western Sahara.]

[Tangiers, Morocco]
The C-130s left the runways by twelves, carriage full of Spanish paratroopers, the first to leave from this rotten desert landscape. Large troop transports were already steaming out of port, ladded with infantry. Indeed, from the sixty-seven thousand or so Spanish soldiers who had touched ground on Morocco, including any artillery and all armor, only the Foreign Legion would remain, no more than seven thousand soldiers. The rest were to return to Spain for a two week rest.

The men were happy to leave Morocco, generally regarded as a hell hole, and there were talks that Spain had no more military campaigns to come. Hell, what was their left to conquer? Madrid had promised to leave the Western Sahara alone, and Algeria was already owned by the French. Spain had no more area to expand into. They were wrong - there was still much to come, but all of that would be divulged later.

Regardless, the Foreign Legion, however violent the Tercio was reputed to be, was in no position to rule a country of thirty million alone. Instead, Madrid was ready to put their little plan into effect. For the last month or so Madrid had allowed certain religious leaders to take power underneath the table in Morocco, spreading the word of Spain's agreement to leave Morocco semi-autonomous. In effect, Spain had placed a government, which really wasn't autonomous and whom's strings were pulled by Madrid, which was loyal to Spain and to Spain alone.

Already, two divisions of Moroccon soldiers had been formed, giving Spain a total of fourteen thousand more men in Morocco. Soon enough the Spaniards were hoping to bring total Moroccon man power to around fifty-thousand men. Infantry numbers were to remain to a single corp, or four divisions, coming to a total of twenty-eight thousand. The rest were to form a small naval squadron based at the Canary Islands, and new armored divisions - the all important artery of the new Spanish war machine.

However, the new Moroccon army would not stay in their own country for long after they were all recruited and trained. How could Spain even think of leaving Moroccon's armed with Spanish weapons in their own country? It would be suicide! Instead, they were to be moved to Spain. By that time Morocco would be pacified enough to leave it to the hands of the Foreign Legion.

Nonetheless, things were shifting from Morocco to the north. Spain was planning yet another campaign...

[OOC: This will continue on a new thread when I have the time to type it all up.]

Hindustan watches Spain very closely...or at least as closely as HDF assets allow for.

Parliament makes its opposition to any further Spanish territorial gains very well known, harshly criticizing Juan Catalan, among others. Continental European leaders are decried as "imperial-age despots; they care nothing of their people, and are concerned solely with personal acclaim and power. Such men are dangerous to say the least."

However, consistent with long-standing Parliamentary foreign policy, Parliament doesn't intend to just go in and overthrow Catalan. After all, although he is not very well liked in Mumbai, his own people seem to approve of him. Hindustan isn't so rash and blatent, but when the opportunity shows itself, history has proven that a Type 12 frigate is never too far away to take advantage of it.

But it must be fairly plain to Catalan's intelligence services that Hindustan is first and foremost concerned with protecting Saharawi independence. And there isn't much love lost between Mumbai and Lisbon...

And so, the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic came into being.

Or rather, the government-in exile of Western Sahara finally exerted its political authority over territory outside a small trapezoid of Algeria just east of Tindouf. As contact was re-established between separated families and tribal groups, the systems of government which had made the Polisario camps some of the most lauded in the world were transferred to assume regular administrative tasks over the provinces whose names they had borne in exile for decades.

Hassiyana Arabic is named the official language, and Islam the state religion, though religious freedom is constitutionally guaranteed. The SADR follows through on its promised legislations should it ever achieve independance: amongst the first acts of the new legislature are the reaffirmatin of the constitution and its amendments, reiteration of the ban on capital punishment, and the constitutional legalization of homosexuality, which had been banned under the Moroccan occupation.

The system of government contains a division of powers between legislative and executive branches: Legislative authority rests with the Asamblea General del Sahara, colloquially termed the ait arbain, created out of the General Assembly of Polisario that served as SADR legislature in exile, whose 60 seats are now assigned based upon proportions of the popular vote, combined with twenty two representatives elected from nomadic saharawi tribes and eighteen from the provincial territories (wilayas). The ait arbain is reflected in the provinces and nomadic tribes by local djemaa councils who serve local legislative and judicial functions according to laws established locally. The ait itself serves a judicial function as a final court of appeal to judgement based upon the constitution, a function carried out by a ten-member Judicial Committee of whom nine are Assemblea members and the chairman is the executive justice minister.
The waliya djemaas are themselves made up of twenty legislators elected from constituent districts/municipalities (daira) and an popularly-elected Chairperson. Municipalities are likewse operated by elected five-member councils and a Mayor. The waliya-daira system also forms the basis for seperate mobile administrations for the nomadic tribal groups.

The executive is responsible for carrying out those decisions agreed in the Assemblea. The President of the SADR is elected, and holds the power to appoint a prime minister from amongst the Assemblea, and to appoint ministers, ambassadors, and the military command. He also serves as chief of the Saharawi Popular Liberation Army (SPLA) and holds a voting seat in the Assemblea, though he posesses no veto powers.

The Heath Care system follows the example set in the camps, with three National Hospitals for specialized care, as well as a Provincial Hospital in each waliya and a clinic in each daira. Care is provided universally, funded by local governments, donations and foreign aid, and the Health ministry, and focusses on preventative care, including a system of mandatory childhood vaccinations. The Saharawi Red Crescent Society is co-opted into the system, providing both connections abroad as well as key services such as paramedics and ambulances. Intentions are declared to purchase one or two additional fast transport helicopters for the SPLA, to be put aside for use in emergency transport to the National Hospitals.

Education is public, universal, and mandatory, oprational year-round though it does not take place each weekday but rather on a four-day schedule. Each daira has an elementary school, usually with only two or three educators, that covers primary (G1-6) education. Secondary schooling occurs in waliya secondary schools, which include a boarding component for those with families too distant to visit. Secondary schooling takes place six days a week, eight months out of the year.
Additional optional education consists of February 27th Women's Vocational School, June 9th Nursing School (paramedics/nurses/clinicians), and October 12th Technical School (computers and modern systems). Under planning is also August 30th University, for merited education in modern arts and sciences.

At present, the Assemblea and executive are dominated by male members of Polisario, being as they are formed primarily out of pre-existing Polisario-SADR structures. The wilaya-djemaa on the other hand are almost entirely made up of females (though, again, members of Polisario), while tribal djemaa are dominated by tribal elders and Islamic religious leaders. Elections are planned within the year, for three-year mandates, and already signs of non-Polisario parties have emerged, in keeping with the stated SADR intent to support a multi-party democratic system.

The SPLA has, like the legislative and executive, been formally divorced from Polisario. It consists of some 30,000 regulars, and is able to call on daira police forces and waliya or tribal militias as reserves. The surrender of the Berm has transformed the Saharawi forces from an underequipped guerilla force into a massively overequipped national defence force, and at airbases, firing ranges, and proving grounds, a field day of training is had with top-level Moroccan equipment. Mine-clearing air bombs and artillery rounds are soon employed along the Berm, to begin cleanup of the 'wall of shame', while large gates are opened up in the wall to speed the movement of refugees, and to allow resumption of trade and nomadic lifestyles.

[The Polisario executive of SADR, as in RL]

* Mohamed Abdelaziz, president.
* Abdelkader Taleb Oumar , prime minister.
* Mohamed Salem Ould Salek, foreign minister.
* Mohamed Lamine Dedi, minister of interior.
* Salek Baba Hassena, minister of co-operation.
* Mariem Saleek H'mada, minister of culture and sports.
* Boullahi Siid , Public health minister.
* Mohamed ould Nafaa , minister of construction.
* Salek Bobih, minister of equipments.
* Mohamed Lamine Bouhali , defense minister.
* Bachir Moustapha Sayed , education minister.
* Sidahmed Batal , information minister.
* Abdelkader Hamada Selma , minister of justice and religious issues.
* Babiya Chiia , transport minister.
* Sidati Mohamed, counselor minister of the presidency.
* Daf Mohamed Fadel, general secretary of the presidency.

"Monseigneur" said Antoinette, offering a danty white gloved hand to Emporer Juan I "I assure you, the pleasure is all mine." With a perfect curtsy, she flashed her pitch black eyes at the Emporer, and resumed her graceful poise.

Louis grinned, and gave Juan Catalan a hug heretofore only granted to members of the Royal Family.

"Ah, monsieur, how fine it is the meet!" Louis would then make small talk with Juan as the convoy took them to the Palace. Antoinette made sure to slip Juan an enticing look now and then as she adjusted volumous locks of gold, wheaten hair.

The conversation revolved around how Louis' men were cracking down on the socilaists, now too brazen to ignore, and how he wished to let Juan's men inspect the apprehended prisoners befoe the lot was shipped of to Guyana. Louis proposed free transit between Spanish Morocco and the Kingdom of Algeria, citing that two close allies ought to work together for mutual profit and victory.

Of course, before long the conversation turned to marriage, Antoinette flushing when the conversation called for it. Louis suggested that such an incredible marriage could not be held anywhere but St. Peters Bascillica itself. While Juan no doubt fell in love with Louis' ravishing daughter, Louis outlined a plan of extraordinary closeness between the two staunch pillars of Catholicism and Monarchism in Western Europe.

"My dear sir" said His Most Christian King "once you take my daughters hand..." he smiled benevolently on his squirming princess, laying his hand on hers "le Pact Famille will again be a reality. So, Antoinette mon cher, what do you think?"

She smiled and flushed one more time, making eyes at Juan I.

[Aranjuez, Spain]
The convoy to the palace took haste upon their flight to Aranjuez, yet inside it felt strangely confortable, especially sitting next to the young and beautiful Antoinette. While the French king gathered up his thoughts Juan went over, once again, the hug Louis XX had offered him. The Spaniard was flattered, for it was only custom for the French to do that within family, and certainly the two were not family, although it was planned that Juan would marry a Bourbon. The Emperor sighed and met gaze with Antoinette. He knew that Louis XX would never allow for such a marriage to be struck, for certainly, there were more prestigious French nobles, and sure the beauty had already a love.

Louis XX began to pass over the events in Algeria and the Spanish Emperor turned his attention directly to the matter. No matter how lovely that woman was, the events in North Africa were shaping the European world, and that required much more attention that soft, white skin. Juan listened intently and then responded,"No, do not waste your time with them, we have much more important things to celebrate, such as Franco-Spanish co-prosperity. Sends the Moors,"he cleared his throat, flashing an embarrased look at the lady after the rascist term he had used and then continued,"...send the Polisarios caught to Guyana. I'm sure they could do much more handy work there, than under Spanish supervision. As for other politics, I'm sure it could wait until we reach the palace. I would not wish to ruin such a splendid evening with your highness, and your lady princess, boring you with my banal American rhetoric."

He smiled and looked at the French king, who promptly continued speaking, rather enjoyably. However, the trip took a rather...strange, yet wonderful... turn. When he heard the proposition of the king his mouth dropped and it took more than a few seconds to regain composure. He sat straighter, but instead of directing his speech to Louis XX, he directed it to Antoinette,"What do you think of all of this? "

He turned to Louis XX before she could respond just to get something in quickly before she said what she had to say,"I beg your pardon for that intrusion, but I'm a hopeless romantic, and I hope that she does feel forced into such a marriage, however strategical the marriage would be." He then turned back to Antoinette and whispered,"My lady, answer me this later, for now we arrive at my humble abode."

As she flushed, the cars pulled into the sands of the Royal Palace at Aranjuez, built centuries ago by the Bourbon rulers of Spain. The chueffer opened the rear door of the car and the young Emperor stepped out, swiping his arm across the horizon of the palace. His left arm was outstretched, grabbing the tender hands of the princess of France, and then helping Louis XX out. He grinned towards both of them and finished the drive with,"Marriage. At St. Peters Basilica, Rome. Indeed, if Antoinette would have it so, then it must be done - because for her, anything shall be completed. Regardless, there is much of this wedding we must speak about! Your majesty, I no longer even want to show you my house, I am so suprised and happy. However, I must, and we must get to politics." He looked back at Antoinette and said,"Later, about the wedding." He smiled once again.

The French surely knew how to make a party merry.

http://usuarios.arsystel.com/discobolo/aranjuez/guia/residencias/palacio_real_aranjuez_02.jpg

His Most Christian Majesty, fresh from a Royal Tour (please forgive the time descrepincy), took the young Emporers hand---of course as a supreme mark of favor---and allowed Juan 'the Great' to help him from the limo. However, not before Louis responded to Juans comment about the moors. His Majesty winked, and with a sheepish smile told him "My my, looks like well have to send the whole lot of darkees to toil, I suppose!" but thats when Antoinette stepped in and play swiped with her fan her fathers arm "Oh, daddy, stop it." After a laugh, they exited.

Tucking his immaculate blue velvet plumed tricorner under his arm ever so gracefully, he lent his hand to his daughter Antoinette, who seemed to float out of the car.

Then the Royal Party (surrounded of course by throngs of press and admirers, Spanish and French) slowly made their way down the path to the splendid Aranjuez Palace. It was a warm spring evening, and His Most Christian Majesty indulged in a cigarette, Antoinette politely fanned herself, soaking up the delightful Spanish weather.

She was not a girl, she was a Princess of France, with the same blood as Louis XIV himself. Her beauty, like a precious flower, had been cultivated by the finest experts, her childhood happy among the nuns of Notre Dame. She lived only to marry and please her father, to serve the Bourbon Dynasty. Yet she truly had fallen in love with Emporer Catalan, after her father told her of the choice. A dashing young war hero, who represented everything Antoinette had been raised to admire, she was giddy with delight. She, too, would be a Queen! She had been so happy, that, upon learning, she had kissed her father on the cheek in Court itself and scampered down the hallways.

Louis was happy for her, and for France. Historically, France and Spain were linked by strong ties to Holy Mother Church, and by the very blood of their Kings. The Pact Famille had united the two most staunchly Catholic and Monarchist countries in Europe (Rome wasnt around then, sorry Maximus) in an awesome alliance.

His Most Christian King would be delighted to call Juan his son, and Marie-Therese was eager to call him her husband and liege.

Louis took a drag, and admired the sunset, and Marie-Therese and Juan Catalan talked of long summer nights and fairy lights.

"My dears, I think it is decided" said His Most Christian King "You have my blessings, and warmest wishes, to marry."

He took their hands and Abbe Vermond, the Kings Grand Confessor, gave the young couple a set of engagement rings. Marie-Therse burst into gleefull tears, and in turn kissed Louis and Juan. Louis smiled, and herded the trio along the path to the Palace for dinner.

"Mon cher" said he to Antoinette "a marriage in Rome, a celebration in Versailles, and a life in the Court of Spain!"

OOC: I find it hilarious that all of these arranged marriages all just happen to have the couples fall in love...

OOC: I find it hilarious that all of these arranged marriages all just happen to have the couples fall in love...

[OOC: Catalan is American/Spanish and Emperor of Spain. Antoinette is a beautiful young woman brought up to admire war heroes and nobles like Catalan. It's only inevitable - especially because of the American part..trust me, my name is Catalan, I'm American and I'm Spanish and I go to Spain every summer... oh dear God Spain is heaven. Now, using that ball, we could create the 'perfect night' and really write up, perhaps, AMW first love story..or first that I know about.]

[OOC: Catalan is American/Spanish and Emperor of Spain. Antoinette is a beautiful young woman brought up to admire war heroes and nobles like Catalan. It's only inevitable - especially because of the American part..trust me, my name is Catalan, I'm American and I'm Spanish and I go to Spain every summer... oh dear God Spain is heaven. Now, using that ball, we could create the 'perfect night' and really write up, perhaps, AMW first love story..or first that I know about.]
OOC: It's not implausibe that it happens once. It's just that Elk is fairly notorious for securing alliances by means of marriage, and every time the couples---who had never previously met---fall head over heels.

[Tangiers,Morocco]
The single miniature transport swayed in the calm waters of the Tangiers harbor, which had become the major center of ship based transition ever since the Spanish military began to move out. It moved lathargically, making sure its antiquated hulls failed to crack under the pressure of sharp objects strewn across the area. It was quite a horrorific ride for what was to become the elite unite of the Spanish Empire, designed to keep the Western Sahara a pawn of Spain, no matter how it was viewed by foreign governments. The screws began to slow and finally they shrieked to a halt and the ship oscilated back and forth for a minute or two and then it finally creaked to an all out stop. A wooden rampart was swung over the side and a man who wore the markings of a Brigada, or the rough equivalent of a Sergeant Major, walked up and began to shout as if mad,"Vamos mujeres, pile out! On the double! Get out maricones de mierda, you look more like Moros than Spanish soldiers."

To his insanity dozens of Spanish soldiers, armed to the teeth, heavy backpacks jumping up and down behind them, began to make their way down the wooden ramp and onto land. None stopped to celebrate and they continued their slow run away from the docks, the sergeant following after about twenty-four had piled out. More and more came out and finally a man, with a rank that could be seen from afar, gracefully walked down. Below another man of rank awaited him and he saluted,"Coronel!"

The colonel saluted back and replied quietly,"At ease"

He nodded his head towards the running troopers and said,"Let's walk. Explain to me the situation."

It would be a long briefing. Indeed, the mission the Colonel had been entrusted with was perhaps the hardest mission ever assigned to a Spanish commander. He was to conquer and keep control of the entire Western Sahara with a brigade of less than seven hundred men. However, it wouldn't be a conventional conquest. No, a war with Hindustan was not what Spain needed at the time, although the day for that would come soon enough - nobody could dare oppose the Spanish Empire and hope to escape unscathed. These men would be assassins, killing their way to the top, so that in the end the top were attached to the Spaniards through strings. The Western Sahara would become a puppet state of Spain in perhaps the most clandestine offensive ever attempted in the history of modern warfare.

Madrid had promised the Western Sahara their independence. But the recent buildup of Hindu technology and weapons had risen the nerves of the Spaniards. Then, news of Polisario incursions into French Algeria had broken the back of the camel. The Polisario would not be allowed to use their victory in order to hurt the allies of Spain - especially an ally that meant so much to the Emperor.

They would be crushed in a campaign of blood.

OCC: Make trouble, will you?

Show you trouble, I will!

*mumbles*

Eh, moreover...I was under the impression that Polisarios had been evacuating refugees from Algeria, not making incursions into Algeria, and were not informed of the fact that their ceded territories are no longer their own.

IC:

Mumbai has recently attempted to disassociate itself with Western Sahara as much as possible, for Western Sahara's own good. It is quite clear, in spite of Parliament's poor intelligence resources, that getting involved does more harm than good.

London and Washington both recieve a large volume of diplomatic communiques attempting to secure at least a grudging support for the emerging Saharawi republic. After all, if it comes to blows, Hindustan can't support much in the way of military action outside its borders, and for this reason Mumbai is ultimately incapable of defending relatively weak and vulnerable states without Igovian help. And once Beth Gellert gets involved, the operation almost magically loses credibility.

But the Spaniards shouldn't expect Parliament to abandon the Saharawis without a fight. It will take the reduction of a good portion of the HDF-N to flaming hulks (not an impossibility) and the defeat of a sizable contingent of Hindustani ground troops to finally prohibit fair-weather Hindustani logistics from reaching the crisis. In short, it won't be easy...doable, but quite possibly very very costly.

[OOC: I was under the impression that the Polisario are beginning to aid the Algerians in their insurrection against the French.

Also, what in terms of military ships would I see through sattelites around the Western Sahara - mmm, say up to two hundred nautical miles off the coast in all directions? I haven't done much in the way of espionage, although I certainly will be soon, so you don't have to tell me ground troop numbers, although I did do a post dealing with catching you selling them aircraft, so a rought estimate of how much Hindustani equipment is in use with the Polisario "army" would be nice.

Gracias.]

OCC:

*narrows eyes*

Whaddo you mean 'catching?' Eh? You'd be able to find it out in the bloody papers!

The SADR is a soveriegn nation, and is therefore subject to treatment as such. Its not like Parliament hasn't given nations airplanes and other armaments a bazillion times before. Look at Al-Ahzad! They're practically a French colony yet Mumbai floats the place.

Well...if its legitimacy and niceness that you're not looking for, i.e. an Eliasesque dirty self-serving and harmful expedition to serve one's own paranoia, well...

I gave the SADR quite a few 75mm anti-tank guns, high-velocity weapons good against the Abrams (although I wouldn't want to be behind one, the tube recoils quite a distance), AT. 30-series ATGWs (similar to the HOT), D-36 130mm howitzers, BM-21 Grad MRLs, and some mortars and SAMs too.

Hindustani aid as of late has shifted to focus primarily on infrastructure development and other humanitarian tasks, so you won't see as much advanced HDF hardware on the ground as you might think.

When it comes to ships, the SADR should have two converted Type 21 frigates, old ships that the HDF didn't particularly like but are still servicable, equipped with Sea Eagle ASMs and fairly modern ECM systems. There are a number (5?) Type 12 frigates of the HDF, plus one (soon, ideally, two) Type 42 destroyers and the Blake, the closest thing Hindustan has to an arsenal ship. All these vessels are modern and equipped with capable systems, but are not in a particularly great number.

No HDF aircraft have deployed as of yet, but four squadrons of SAf. 4s are pn standby for emergency deployment.

The Commonwealth Professional Civil Service has lately been accused of trying to keep Western Sahara out of the headlines in the Commonwealth, but even in the unlikely event of it being guilty, little success has been met. Beddgelens are slowly taking an interest in the affairs of the Polisario as hands are thrown up in resignation over the South Pacific.

It is true that many regulars in the Igovian political scene take the Hindustani view that Soviet involvement will ultimately work against the people of Western Sahara and within movements related to its struggles... but the public rule Commonwealth affairs and it is impossible to control their four hundred million individual wills. In the short term, little happens beyond the increased attention paid by People's Kosmonautical Co-operative satellites to North Africa and likewise by the tide of conversation in Beth Gellert's more politicised cafés and public houses.

A few Local Senates have begun to set aside time for discussion of protective steps that might be taken, from public but none-specific discussion of the issues so as to make known the Commonwealth's growing attention, to blowing up continental Europe just to be safe.

The Commonwealth Professional Civil Service has lately been accused of trying to keep Western Sahara out of the headlines in the Commonwealth, but even in the unlikely event of it being guilty, little success has been met. Beddgelens are slowly taking an interest in the affairs of the Polisario as hands are thrown up in resignation over the South Pacific.

It is true that many regulars in the Igovian political scene take the Hindustani view that Soviet involvement will ultimately work against the people of Western Sahara and within movements related to its struggles... but the public rule Commonwealth affairs and it is impossible to control their four hundred million individual wills. In the short term, little happens beyond the increased attention paid by People's Kosmonautical Co-operative satellites to North Africa and likewise by the tide of conversation in Beth Gellert's more politicised cafés and public houses.

A few Local Senates have begun to set aside time for discussion of protective steps that might be taken, from public but none-specific discussion of the issues so as to make known the Commonwealth's growing attention, to blowing up continental Europe just to be safe.
OOC: I sure hope Russia isn't included as "continental Europe"...

[OOC: Here is a prom pic... hahaha, the flower broke off, that's what she gets...]


http://worldwarwiki.modernwarstudies.net/personal_images/prom.gif

bump

[OOC: Well, I think the meeting with Louis XX has been wrapped up, unless Elkazor wants to speak of something else. Other than that there is little use for this thread in terms of IC activity, except for my sporadic incursions into the Western Sahara and further buildup of my Moroccon army.]

((I agree, Maccabee. And though I love RP, I have now to turn my energies to this fantastic Masquerade Ball long in the works. COnsider them to have been married, and living happily in Madrid. You have a wife now, Juan!. Oh, and please, do show up for this Ball at Versailles, the major intro post is on its way up today.))

Along the borders and coastline of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic, the advanced RADAR systems that had once given the Moroccan occupation centimetre-by-centimetre coverage of beyond the Berm now looked off into Morocco, Algeria, and the Atlantic.

With war erupting in Tunisia, and Holy League war in Europe against other small republics, Saharawi military units had been concentrated northward in readiness or further developments... victory in North Africa would bolster the League, and if that occured the Saharawi would likely be next on the chopping block.

The nation's fledgeling air force stood at launch readiness to explore RADAR contacts that might be precursors to invasion, while several bases had been expanded to accomodate larger numbers of troops... even camel and truck-mounted tribal militias kept their rifles clutched closer, wondering if the future would be marked by invasion.

((Checks to see if Spain is still alive...))

OOC: Mac(Spain) is on vacation in Spain actually, he won't be back for another month.

No No No! You are all wrong kinds of faciests! How dare you take over the country we took over first and is our ancient homeland since time immemorial! Out Out, No Roast Infidel for You!