NationStates Jolt Archive

The Daffidar put his feet up and ordered another beer. "I'll tell ya, mate, it's been a strange few months. We're off to Guffingford, only we don't do much more then land a team and cast a few drones. The team comes back in a few days, and it's back into the water. What happens? Nothing."

I have no idea what this is about, but I better tag it.

==

Fully hooded, Abraham enters a secluded pub, twelve miles from the city's center. He looks around, his piercing eyes trying to discern friend from foe. On one barstool at the end of the table, near the emergency exit, a man rests, his eyes weary, his mouth gaping. In his hand is a drinking straw, but no drink is present on his table.

With an inaudible sigh, Abraham slowly moves past the drunken thugs, the prostitutes and the waiteresses towards the man. He carefully takes a seat next to him and starts twiddling his thumbs.

The man discards the straw and looks up at Abraham, "Are the officials working? Are they on high alert?"

"As high as high can be. No official word from the government yet, but people are starting to talk, and a rumour is going around that the country will invest heavily in this."

"I want the individuals spreading these rumours to be silenced. We want it to be a pleasant surprise."

Abandoning his barstool, the man makes his way to the emergency exit. He has a lot of planning to do.

==

Colonel Mike Abrahams groaned as he looked at the results of the artillery crews. They were still about 10 meters off the position they were supposed to be hitting....not that anyone had ever needed this much accuracy before.

"Joyce, why the hell are we going after this much target accuracy? What is up?"

His quartermaster gave a chuckle as he jogged over into the bunker where his CO was, looking through binoculars at his artillery crew going through firing procedures yet again. "Colonel, I have no clue. All I know is what I've seen and heard from a few contacts I've got around."

Abrahams looked away from the binoculars at the portly officer who stood in the bunker next to him. "And?"

"Well, sir, we've got massive loads of ammunition going through ordinance department. Replacement parts, fuel, food- I'm talking about the works. New barrels for tube artillery. More fuel then I've ever had to handle and deal with. And my cousin in engineering say's they've been building mock-ups of some coastal towns. Why, I don't know, but these things are to detail. And my friend over in intel says we've got new instructors coming through and busting down recruits for not knowing enough German, enough French. It's suddenly essential for as many men as possible to know these languages. I have no idea why, though. But something big's going down."

Abrahams nodded as he raised the binoculars once again. "And, of course, they don't deign to tell us. Hmm, only off by four meters this time. Improvement."

Sam, can you TG me your msn adress, I think I have a faily good idea of NATO's plans, but I like to set a few things straight.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=419073

[OOC-I TGed you, but here they are on the forums.

AIM- samtheuberman
MSN- samtheuberman@hotmail.com
ICQ- Who uses this anyways? If you want it, I'll find it....
IRC- Sometimes on. Usually as Samtonia in #nationstates]

"I don't know what I've been told!"

"I don't know what I've been told!"

"The Union is part of a group called NATO!"

"The Union is part of a group called NATO!"

The soldiers marched around Fort Roska, doing these intricate weapons maneuvers and the like. As they chanted this, of course.

Wilhem, the First Chancellor of the Defense Chancellory, looked at a Rosian Captain. "Are you sure this will make them better?"

The Captain smirked. "Don't worry Chancellor, we'll be fine."

"Samtonia will be handling the artillery end of things."
"Hmmm. Good ordinance. Can it be trusted?"
"I've never known their stuff to be off. And I doubt strongly they can't handle an order like this."
"Even in quantity?"
"Even in quantity."
"Good. Double the order. And have it shipped as... what, machine parts?"
"We did that one already."
"Auto scrap then. Keep them guessing for now."
"Aye sir. And the concrete orders - they're behind."
"BULL." A hand struck a desk. "They CAN'T be behind."
"I'm sorry sir, but..."
"Get it from another source, I don't know, Hamptonshire or Samtonia. A hundred and fifty thousand tons is an order they can't refuse."
"They may not be able to fill it in such short notice."
"Then split it. And order from independants. Whatever it takes - this has to go off on time. No excuses. And shoot anyone who says otherwise."
"Yes, my General."

The Docks
Breningrad, Republic of West Oceania

Cast off had for centuries been a traditional party in the long-time port city. Yet today the clouds blew in from the ocean and covered the whole of the city in a thick mist, which ate through flesh and chilled one down to the bone. The usual throngs of wives and children stayed far away from the docks, as massive waves crashed against the breakers, and the remnants that passed through rolled gently against the hulls of the Royal Navy’s finest ships. Down the miles of docks men and women raced from covered stall to covered stall as the mist grew heavier into a light rain.

Calvin Locke leaned against the rails on the outer bridge of his new command. Although not fully complete, she could throw massive rounds over one hundred kilometers, obliterating anything that found itself in the path of the shells. He peered forward, towards the entrance to the base. In front of him were hundreds of meters of titanium composite surfaces, armoured turrets for the 609mm guns, grouped in quadruple turrets, three here forward with a further two aft out of his view. The nation’s first super-dreadnaught was readying to sail and meet her sisters in the rest of NATO’s order of battle.

To the starboard and port sides, half a dozen battlecruisers, a dozen missile cruisers, and several dozen destroyers, frigates, patrol craft, submarines, and supply ships began to finish loading their stores and ammunition. Only one frigate had been forced to drop out of the mission, her chief engineer having discovered a critical flaw in the ship’s engine plant. But even without the escort, the Royal Navy had ordered to sea the largest taskforce in her recorded history. At sea, several more cruisers and destroyers would rendezvous along with the 900 meter long super-carrier HMS Endeavour, and a few assault carriers and light carriers.

Overhead, between the thuds and clangs of crates and cases slamming into holds, a deep rumble could be heard as massive air transport aircraft began taking off from the base’s airfield. Onboard the planes were dozens of tanks, APCs, and men and women with their rifles and other small arms. In a few days’ time, the remainder of the Royal Army’s ground forces would be loaded onboard transports escorted by a second wave of capital ships set to sail from the naval base down in Portsmouth. Locke was glad for the support his new ship was set to receive, yet… he was still nervous. Despite the best laid plans, something could go hideously wrong.

OOC: Dear people, it's nice know you're gonna attack me but do realise that my nation lies in the middle of the Imperial Armies archipelago, and you must violate the national waters of sovereign, neutral nations in order to attack me. I don't think The Macabees, Safehaven2 and many others can appreciate that.

http://img92.echo.cx/img92/6651/map5dl.jpg < regional map

http://img109.echo.cx/img109/8113/map24oo.jpg < national map

Now, I think people know my stance on dogpiles but I'll say it again: I'm not recognizing those. If you want to bash on nations, have fun somewhere else. And another thing, I have no objections to the current players involved but if Hamptonshire or Scandavian States join, I'm out. They have chosen to ignore me almost 6 months ago, and with zero interaction between me and said persons, I think its safe to assume they're just in for the kill. This thread bears the tag [NATO], so I don't want to see any non-NATO nations here. You know, the lovely "I get my allies, and they get their allies and so on" kind of RP. If you want to invade me, follow these simple rules and everything will be fine and enjoyable for all parties involved.

The claims on Germany, Norway, Benelux, Finland, Poland, Switzerland and Lichtenstein (pardon me if I forgot one or two) still stand. However, I do not use them in RPs anymore. The Imperial Armies archipelago is located in the pacific, 1000 miles north-east of Australia. Somewhere over there, you get the idea.

An OOC post brought forth by Guffingford.

TAG to defend Guff if he wants me too.

"Have you got them?"
"Yes, sir." The aide removed several CDs from his shoulder bag. "Here's copies of Vas Urbs... and Hogenbosch... Port Kramer... We also have the coastline between Marsa Bruth and Sidi Rezegh, excellent intel on Fedala and the rest of the country..."
"So much? How?"
"Connections, sir, connections. You could say... we know the same people?"
"Oh? Ah..." she nodded with understanding, "good, good."
"We also have Panooly City and the surrounding islands from..."
"Yes, yes, I'm well aware.... Trystam too? That is a coup."
"Not really, sir, in this age of international trade and travel."
"Quite so. Well, have them off to where they need to be. Time grows shorter... and there's been no word from the Schultarians or DPUO?"
"No, my General. Oh, but we do have word - Admiral Sif will be taking an air transport to personally command the 6th Fleet."
"Ooooh, most darling news indeed!"
"She did give some indication of concern, given our allies relative abilities. We are certainly not the biggest or the brightest star in NATO's galaxy."
"No matter, von Rommel, no matter at all. They may have the prettier toys - such as they've kept. But whose navy is it who always responds to the call, on which ally can all depend on?" She gave a cruel laugh. "And from that, von Rommel, whose navy has been in more... situations?"

She sat back, considering the NATO flag and display over her door. "There are many banners under that flag, von Rommel - but only one of them is getting frayed from use. And that, my friend - that will be telling. And if not... There's always the Chinese option."

She gave a subtle wink - one which von Rommel understood all too well. And when she gave in to another bout of laughter, he readilly joined in.

TAG to defend Guff if he wants me too.You have received a telegram.

You have received a telegram.
OOC: replyed.

Tag

http://69.93.183.37/917/143/upload/p2492473.jpg

Tag, I suggest that if this is going were I think it is you guys read the Distant Rumble thread so you know whats going on in the region right now. If its not going were I think it is, well Ill just shutup and return to my hole.

OOC: Thank you very much, the two dovetail nicely. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=416000) Will be keeping tabs on that thread.

“There,” a small hand motioned towards the top of a tree-covered hill. “Our objective sits atop the rocky peak, thick reinforced concrete. Nothing too difficult in and of itself. The problem is reaching it.”

Sergeant Ivan Ilianovich Ruyev grimaced at the task before him and his men. Fortunately, it was a training exercise for operations set commence in coming weeks. He glanced down at his modified battle rifle, no longer firing live rounds, it fired laser pulses which could be detected by the suits worn by the ‘enemy’ crew up on the hill. But as one of his privates began to crouch-walk around a rock, the familiar sound of a rapid-firing machine gun shattered a silent forest. The boy’s suit flashing red, then emitting a paralyzing shock reminded him that the ‘enemy’ could also strike out at his own men. And he was already down one apparently.

Ruyev picked up his rifle. The rifle itself was standard in the Royal Army, however, more common in the engineer units was its carbine version. Ruyev, however, preferred the extra weight for the extra killing power. His men took the satchel charges carried by their ‘dead’ comrade – they would need the explosives.

The bunker managed to overlook nearly the entire hillside, and so Ruyev needed to find small niches and ditches to hide. The scenario pitted his small unit against a fortified position that had for several hours decimated the concentrated attacks sent against the position. Air support was impossible due to high threat levels from man-portable SAMs and AAA batteries. Thus, Ruyev needed to move, and move fast.

A small cluster of rocks and felled trees a few meters down from his position, to his right, would link up with a small creek bed, that he could take up a good part of the way in an attempt to flank the bunker. He motioned with his hand for his remaining four men to crawl over to the pile of rocks. His immediate superior, a cocky lieutenant, had caught several ‘rounds’ as he moved up the hill without cover – not recognizing the enemy wouldn’t want to engage just at close ranges.

Slowly the men moved through thick underbrush, scratching and cutting their exposed flesh on rocks, thorns and mandibles of annoyed insects. The creek babbled its incoherent language of peace and serenity in a vain attempt to mask the guaranteed sounds of modern warfare. The team gathered on the banks, resting for a few while Ruyev decided on the next course of action. The creek bed would provide safe passage only part of the way, although they might be able to take out part of the bunker with their light assault weapon. There was an angle into the main part of the bunker, and if done properly, could take out the forward facing machine guns – though it would leave the guns to the side and rear in operational condition. The problem was that time was not a luxury he could afford, reinforcements were needed beyond this hill, which now sat at the front line of battle. “Withers,” Ruyev whispered to a lanky private. “Bring the LAW up front, we need to take out an MG.”

Withers nodded, and crept up the embankment, slowly shouldering the matte grey canister. He flicked the targeting device up and closed one eye. With the small space on the side wall spotted Withers pulled the trigger, and watched a small trail of smoke snake out. In seconds the warhead found itself detonating on the inside walls of the bunker. The ‘shrapnel’ managed to ‘destroy’ the primary guns as well as ‘kill’ several individuals.

Now would be a good opportunity to take advantage of the chaos in the bunker. Ruyev motioned for his men to rise and dash. Further up the hill were several rocky protrusions that allowed the men cover while they slowly advanced, one at a time towards the high point. In due time they climbed up the majority of the hill, losing only one more soldier in the process.

By afternoon the team lay below the bunker underneath some rocks. The group lit their satchel charges and made their carbines ready. With a quick, timed throw, the charges flew inside the concrete structure – save two which bounced off the outer wall. The men covered their heads as the explosion deafened them briefly, the concussion wave blasting rocks across the hill.

Ruyev nodded to his men, the signal to check out the damage. Upon rising, the private gave the thumbs-up signal. The small team crept up the hill, careful not to disturb anyone still around and ready to fire. But as they neared the hill, they peered inside the bunker and saw several of their colleagues flipping them off as they lay stunned on the ground. Ruyev allowed himself a smile. “Good work, men.”

He picked up a small flag and a medal that had been placed inside by the training officer in charge – the flag that of Guffingford. the medal a mere trinket in Ruyev's mind. So much was to be fought over such small symbols. With a shrug of his shoulders he threw them back down to the ground and unknowingly stepped on them while walking away, crushing the two into the dirt.

“Men, we kicked some ass – but we lost some of our guys, and that’s unacceptable. We’re going to keep doing this right until we can take these hills without losing any casualties.” He hoisted his rifle once again and headed down the hill to where the lieutenant was surely rising, quite pissed.

"That Eidolon thing's a nice plane, isn't it?" commented the pilot of a black-liveried TS-3 interceptor as he taxied out onto runway 3 of his carrier, the Red Dragon.

"If you can believe the press, it's all of that," replied his leader. "Still, nothing this thing can't deal with," he concluded, ending in a short static burst as he radioed for take-off clearance. "Should be interesting to see if the upgraded RWRs can pick up the radar." Of course, that shouyldn't prove necessary...

"What about its stealth abilities?" asked his wingman.

"Nothing to be too concerned about. We've the same sort of system in this radar, don't forget, just with a much higher power rating. Might be easier to find, but it's no easier to jam. As for that active stealth stuff, remember that experimental one?"

"You mean the one where it triggered off every passive radar detector within about a hundred and fifty miles?" the wingman sniggered, remembering a navy experimental programme concerning plasma stealth; in testing, the ionised air near the plane had set off every RWR within miles, each one convinced that a very large square-shaped contact was somewhere in the area.

"Same one. I think that was why we didn't bother with plasma stealth." The pilot paused. "Clearance granted. Follow me lads, standard launch pattern." The carrier shook as twelve interceptors roared off her runways on full afterburner, wings and internal weapons-bays laden with ordnance. Pulling away from the force, he could see the bow-waves of the ships as they cruised at a leisurely 15 knots; in their centre was a mysterious object, a long, fine hull, the front of which was covered with a gigantic tarpaulin.

Edwards Army Corp Headquarters; Western Province
The distant sound of heavy 203mm and 155mm artillery shells shook the ground, bringout out all sorts of wild life in the century old firing range. Roughly twelve old armoured vehicles lay on top of the firing range's hill, somewhat new. A single soldier lay prone in the brush, some one thousand meters away from the targets. He checked his spotting scope and spoke into his radio, "First target is located at Zulu Zulu Oscar OneA OneA FiveB, wind is 10 mph. Fire when ready." Miles away a single 155mm howitzer was being loaded with a High Explosive Shell. The crew manning the howitzer was none other than members of the 4th Armoured Division, the most experienced and elite division in the Ninjanian Army. Soldiers from the 23rd, 45th, 77th, and 22nd Infantry Divisions were also performing similiar training. As well as some five other Mechanized, and Airborne divisions. Sergeant Bowles, commander of the artillery unit shouted, "Fire!" A single shot was fired from the howizter and was sent flying into the air.

Miles away from the artillery site the spotter eyed the target closely. Precision was a must. Suddenly the vehicle blew up in a brilliant display of explosions and dust. "Hit." yelled the spotter back into the radio. "Nice job boys, that one hit right on top of the hatch. Let's try making all of our shots just as good."

Many more miles away an infantry battalion of the 4th Armoured Division was performing urban combat manuevers in the "enemy" controlled city of Pulpo. The "enemy" was played by members of the 23rd Infantry Division; this exercise was a joint operation. The city was an excellent well designed fake city, which based itself on several cities in the world. Using MILES gear squads from the 4th Armoured Divisions, 2nd Battalion quietly penetrated the outer portions of the city in all sides. The entire exercise would last nearly five days, and may result in a stalemate if both forces are unable to quell each other after the five days.

Off shore the 2nd General Purpose Fleet was practicing sea to land operations. Ships of various kind launched missiles after missile, and cannon barrage at targets on shore. Several "enemy" submarines assisted the fleet in ASW operations. Pilots with their F/A-91 and Su-54 naval fighters took to the skies to easily defeat a superior "enemy" aircraft formation. The 2nd General Purpose Fleet was the most well trained, and largest fleet in service. Simulations after simulation were run continiously, preparation was essential to ensure success.

Colonel Ibtihaj Shaw shook his head. "No, it's not entirely ethical to use our contacts - but how does ethics figure into it, my General?"
She laughed at his bluntness. "Very well, what have you got?"
"How about copies of early deployments - troops, personnel files, specialties. We even have an original plan for the fortresses..."
"Useless, Colonel, they'll have changed it by now."
"Yes, sir, but at least we have an idea of where and approximately what we can expect. You can only fit so much in such a space."
"True. Very well. Von Rommel - get OPS-6 on it, and schedule some OVERSIGHT flyovers - nothing too distinct, mind you."
"Yes, my General."
"Colonel, how are your men handling this?"
"The Cheetahs will be set for it - we've considered terrain possibilities, and unless they flood everything, we should have a slight speed advantage. The difficulty will be in airdropping enough T-95 and T-98s to make a difference during the tank phases. We have the Progenys to do it, but SAMs will be a consideration."
"Indeed. Aphids?"
"They're not completely ready, but we could get a few there..."
"Do it. No excuses. Von Rommel" she shook her head, "I will be in attendance at the Sultan's soiree tonight. You're in charge, beep me if anything special happens - and I don't care if the Sultan says otherwise."
"Yes, sir!"

[tag]

Fort Rosktai

One of the Rosktai in the base, a Rosktai being a Rosian Special Operater, looked at another one of his comrades wearing an Austian uniform. "Don't I look good in this?"

One of his comrades snickered. "Heh, yep." This man was wearing a Guffingfordi uniform. "I look just like a Guffingfordi soldier eh? Long live Guffingford!" He said in a mocking manner.

The other Rosktai, in plural this time, laughed out loud. My it was a funny joke. All of them in uniforms of the nations of Imperial Armies. The lead Rosktai looked at his comrades. "The preparations are almost complete, comrade. Should be quite a show eh?"

Another Rosktai chuckled. "Yes, should be quite a show indeed."

Edwards Army Headquarters; Tank Battle Simulations
One hundred and two large and powerful TM-38A1 Gladius Tanks slowly move across the wide open plain of "Burners Clearing". The tanks carry a powerful 155mm electro-thermal chemical cannon and various machine guns and SAM mounts the tank was the most powerful armoured land vehicle currently in service. The only foes who would even be somewhat capable against this powerful force was one hundred and two T-7 Gilgamesh tanks, also wielding heavy a heavy 155mm ETC cannon. The stage was set for one of the largest tank battle simulations as of yet in the preparation for the upcoming "plans". At five thousands meters the simulated tank rounds began to launch from both sides. Using their state of the art anti-missile/tank shell systems the TM-38 managed to defeat some inbound rounds. However thirty tanks were put out of commission. The Gilgamesh tanks however received a much more punishing blow. Though being still extremely well armed and armoured forty five Gilgamesh tanks were destroyed. After this initial clash it only took twenty minutes for the TM-38 tanks to destroy all T-7 tanks, while suffering seventy casualties. A lone UAV watched the battle unfold. The UAV was wired to the command center some twelve miles away.

"Casualty rates are still far too high. The T-7 is still a fine tank in the battle field but we can expect our foes to wield even more powerful tanks. Train the crews harder." spoke General McCallister.

A nod was all he received from the tank brigades commander.

Above Edwards Army Headquarters an equally important air battle was unravelling. Forty-eight Su-52 Fanatics faced off against forty-eight F/A-91 fighters. The formations of both aircraft contained four B-32 Light Bombers. The purpose of this mission was to destroy all four bombers, while receiving as little casualties as possible. At three hundred kilometers long range air to air missiles were launched by both sides. These obviously had little effect, though some fighters did get hit. At around 80 to 90 kilometers meduim range missiles were launched, now significant amount of fighters were being taken down. Twelve Su-52 Fanatics fell, but fourteen F/A-91's were destroyed as well. After this engagment most of the fighters broke off formation and began targetting individual enemy aircraft. Twelve fighters on both sides remained to defend the bombers.

The entire battle was recorded on the ground by cameras and sensors on the aircraft. In the end the Su-52 formation was victorious, though slightly. Eleven Su-52's and two B-32 Bombers remained, as oppose to the F/A-91's nine fighters. This outcome was the most likely outcome, due to the fact that the Su-52 fighter is an air superiority fighter, while the F/A-91 is a multi-purpose fighter; able to engage various targets.

Aboard the VSS Scimitar, Fleet Admiral Sif Mesfin al-Din barked out orders, displaying none of the anxiety she felt.

"Deploy the Trebuchets to the rear, split our Mako and Spearfishers to flank positions, Archers to center. How fast can we get the Nyads and Devilfish deployed?"
"We're down to fifteen minutes, sir!"
"Excellent!" If this new training works - must give that new officer a commendation if he pulls it off in a combat situation "Get those crews to station. Full ASW sweeps, get the seabirds up, and don't skimp on the fighter cover."
"Aye-Aye, sir!"

Fighters roared off the hard deck... Vikings and Gulls whined their way into the atmosphere...

"Drones away, launch all drones. Frigate wedges forward - XO, time to detection?"

... flares shone off the deck, rockets sending the SHARD drone armada forward, ahead of the fleet at mach speeds...

"Fourty minutes to outer perimeter, sir."
"Flank speed, XO. Guns forward, crews to battle stations. Inform our submarine wedges to clear in... thirty eight minutes, forty five degrees off our course."
"Aye-Aye, sir!"

Klaxxons screamed, crew ran to their ready positions... VLRAO guns rotated into position, their magazines heaped with shells... GMGs, fixed, armed, ready... far below, captains listened for the unexpected sound, the telltale of a torpedo tube opening, the crush of one of theirs moving too deep - or worse...

"Sir! OVERSIGHT report - we're running thirty minutes ahead of timetable - the nearest NATO fleet won't arrive for..."
"Long after we're done." She looked up, features hardening. "Vastiva is playing vanguard - we've done it before, we're doing it now. Tightbeam to the Ro-Ros - we're landing hot as soon as we've achieved suppression. No screw ups, no wet feet - or there'll be hell to pay. My personal blend of hell."
Even in the red light of the bridge, the XO blanched "Aye-aye, sir!"

***THREAD CLOSED***

PLEASE SEE THIS THREAD FOR CONTINUATION OF ACTION (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=420010)