Samtonia
29-03-2005, 00:14
Guantanmo Bay, Cuba
Scattered peals of gunfire still echoed throughout the streets of this once-proud Binthorian military complex. Once proud and now, once Binthorian. Already, three full companies of marines had begun to push their way northwards, through sporadic resistance of quickly disintegrating military units.
This had been just the beginning of what looked to be one hell of a knock-down dustup with a well trained, well equipped foe. Until, however, the Binthorian government dissolved in a hail of infighting, helped along by the bullets of an unknown number of assailants. And now, strategic command was deeply divided between multiple opposing factions.
Already, reports were coming in of fighting in the streets of Havana. ’And being the kind nation we are, in comes Samtonia to help mop up the mess Binthor left,’ thought General Emuel Brinsan of the 123rd marines. Nominal command had passed to him in the Guantanmo region after the leader of the flotilla which had been busily bombarding enemy positions further inland was suddenly recalled with most of his fleet to support four separate amphibious landings on points around Cuba.
Brinsan laughed. ”Hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast. That’s the ticket.” A ticket to victory, as reslts were showing. Already, most of the southern half of Cuba had Samtonians in it, policing areas, protecting civilians, and terminating hostiles. Which, as of this point, consisted of four factions. The nationalists, led by one Col. Zapisto, who were comprised of the remnants of the Cubans impressed into the Bintorian armed forces. The Manuelans, after their leader, General Manuel Mirabelle, a decidedly pro-living band of ex-army officers and their units in the south who were apparently determined to only attack when fired upon. Two more factions lurked to the north, both much more armored-vehicle fueled then the southern factions, both of whom seemed to be falling back before the Samtonians and attempting to melt away into the civilian populations.
Who of course did not want them. And so, some platoons resorted to looting, others to simply continuing to run. It was one long string of enemies moving up towards Havana. And by now, two field armies would be hot on their heels. And as soon as yet another flotilla made landing to the north, the forces would be split in piecers, unable to communicate or fight their way clear of one another.
It all depended upon those ships.
[OOC- That’s right. The continuation thread. So I’m claiming Cuba. Fighting will take until the end of the week. Maybe a little sooner. But yeah. This is it. The claim and conquest.]
Scattered peals of gunfire still echoed throughout the streets of this once-proud Binthorian military complex. Once proud and now, once Binthorian. Already, three full companies of marines had begun to push their way northwards, through sporadic resistance of quickly disintegrating military units.
This had been just the beginning of what looked to be one hell of a knock-down dustup with a well trained, well equipped foe. Until, however, the Binthorian government dissolved in a hail of infighting, helped along by the bullets of an unknown number of assailants. And now, strategic command was deeply divided between multiple opposing factions.
Already, reports were coming in of fighting in the streets of Havana. ’And being the kind nation we are, in comes Samtonia to help mop up the mess Binthor left,’ thought General Emuel Brinsan of the 123rd marines. Nominal command had passed to him in the Guantanmo region after the leader of the flotilla which had been busily bombarding enemy positions further inland was suddenly recalled with most of his fleet to support four separate amphibious landings on points around Cuba.
Brinsan laughed. ”Hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast. That’s the ticket.” A ticket to victory, as reslts were showing. Already, most of the southern half of Cuba had Samtonians in it, policing areas, protecting civilians, and terminating hostiles. Which, as of this point, consisted of four factions. The nationalists, led by one Col. Zapisto, who were comprised of the remnants of the Cubans impressed into the Bintorian armed forces. The Manuelans, after their leader, General Manuel Mirabelle, a decidedly pro-living band of ex-army officers and their units in the south who were apparently determined to only attack when fired upon. Two more factions lurked to the north, both much more armored-vehicle fueled then the southern factions, both of whom seemed to be falling back before the Samtonians and attempting to melt away into the civilian populations.
Who of course did not want them. And so, some platoons resorted to looting, others to simply continuing to run. It was one long string of enemies moving up towards Havana. And by now, two field armies would be hot on their heels. And as soon as yet another flotilla made landing to the north, the forces would be split in piecers, unable to communicate or fight their way clear of one another.
It all depended upon those ships.
[OOC- That’s right. The continuation thread. So I’m claiming Cuba. Fighting will take until the end of the week. Maybe a little sooner. But yeah. This is it. The claim and conquest.]