NationStates Jolt Archive

Aegean Sea, 100 miles off the shore of Turkey...

All Units In Position...

FIA 12th Army

FIA 14th Army

FIN 3rd Fleet

FIIS Epsilon Corps

Commence Operation: Turkish Delight

General Tomas Bierlitz studied the short, brief transmission. Everything was in readiness. He turned to his aide. “Inform Colonel Markov that all airborne units are free at this time. Commence overflight and drop immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bierlitz sat back in his chair in his office onboard the carrier Watchman, the flagship of the 3rd Fleet. Across from him, Admiral Stephen Rovak gave him a short glance. “General, shall I order the launch of all cruise missiles assigned shore targets?”

“Yes, Admiral, I calculate that Markov’s division will be in position for the drop in one hour. Have each ship re-verify their targets and prepare for launch. Missiles will be launched in forty five minutes from now. It is 0300 hours...now.”

Both men synchronized their watches, which was a bit of an outdated practice; all Freudotopian vessels received constant updates from the atomic clock outside of Godthab. Nevertheless, they wanted to be sure of every detail. This operation required exquisite timing. The Emperor himself had planned strategy for the invasion. At 0400 hours, local time, the eighteen submarines stationed closer to the Turkish shore would launch their missiles at the hearts of 72 of Turkey’s military and communications centers. Destroying a portion of the country’s military might while simultaneously wreaking havoc on the communications network would make the landing of troops on the beaches near Istanbul, Edremit, Ayvalik, Menemen, Izmir, Bornova, Soke, and Milas much easier. Airborne troops would be dropped on the landward side of all of these cities to cut off any counterattack by the Turkish. Once the southeastern cities and towns were captured, the 12th Army would move inland to Ankara. The 14th Army, under the command of General Markus Valen, would simultaneously attack the cities of Thrace, proceed to Istanbul, and then also moving inland. Air support for both operations would be provide by the Watchman, Vex, Invictus, and Justice, the four carriers of the 3rd Fleet. The obvious target of both armies was the capital city of Ankara. Once Ankara was taken, the rest of Turkey would likely fall easily.

Epsilon Corps, the most elite unit of Freudotopian intelligence, had been assigned to sabotage, assassinate, steal, and spy on every target they could find. Their incredible skills as a stealth unit would make the overt invasion more successful by subtly attacking every facet of the Turks’ ability to respond.

General Bierlitz picked up his radio, and sent a message to all ships, planes, and helicopters.

“Commence Operation: Turkish Delight.”

OOC: This is all I have time for at the moment. Just to give an outline of my plans. More tomorrow. Anyone interested in Rping international media, just post something saying you want to, and then when the action starts tomorrow, just jump right in. (Kinda like GE’s recent invasion of Bosnia.)

OOC: :eek: One misplaced Hash has turned half your post Italic...

Red-Omega-11, repeat, Red-Omega-11. All units are moving. Red-Omega-11.

Aboard the Silencer, nuclear sub in Turkish waters, Aegean Sea...

“Captain! We have received the code!”

“Excellent. All hands to battle stations. Prepare launch sequence one!”

Sailors scurried from their bunks, from the bathrooms and the cafeterias, heading for their stations on the con. The token watch was filled out with the entire complement of seamen. Shouts flew back and forth through the con, as the sub prepared to fire four cruise missiles at two air defense bases near Izmir. The Silencer was one of eighteen subs in the 3rd Fleet. The devastation caused by the missiles would make the amphibious assaults of the 12th and 14th Armies much easier, as well as the air drops of both armies.

Captain, all other submarines have acknowledged firing readiness. Shall I send the launch signal?”

“Wait a moment, sailor. You! Have you double checked all firing solutions?”

“Yes sir! All missiles are armed and ready for launch. Firing solutions for targets computed and locked in. We are 100 percent ready, Captain.”

“Good. Now, send launch signal.”

“Launch signal sent, Captain.”

“Excellent. Fire control! Launch missiles one through four. Firing sequence one initiated!”

Four missiles burst through the water and screamed into the night sky, the lights of their rockets dying as they were swallowed in blackness, turning toward the Ol-Omar Air Defense Base and the Abir-Gurish Air Defense Base. When they hit, the explosion would level most of the complexes, killing dozens, and bringing down any chance of communication or defensive response. All through the Aegean Sea, other subs received the launch signal, and broke the water with their own missiles, which were also lost shortly into the black sea sky, now only a blip on the radar, moving closer to Turkey and the focus of their destruction.

“Missiles are away, Captain.”

Aboard Grey 1, C/T-180 cargo/troop carrier plane over Soutwestern Anatolia...

“That’s the code, Smathers, get our boys in the air immediately.”

“Yes Sir, Colonel Markov.”

The aide pushed the switch on the radio and yelled, “Boris! Everyone in the air, now!” A loud affirmative came back. He turned to Colonel Markov, seated next to him in the command section of their troop plane.

“I’m getting acknowledgment lights from all our planes, Colonel. Our soldiers are falling out now.”

“Good. Tell them to move immediately toward their target cities. Do the other wings copy?”

The aide directed a short question into the radio, received his answer, and turned back to Markov. “Yes, Sir. The second drop team is over Istanbul now. I have word from the 14th that their men are on the beaches now. Only a token resistance has been met.”

“Good. The drop should go well. And the rest of the 12th? Where is my ground support?”

“Colonel Erlitz reports successful landing. All troops are moving toward target cities.”

“How far are we from Izmir? That is the most important city in our task group. We must take it quickly and with few losses.”

“I will impress upon the Colonel the urgency to move on Izmir.”

Outside of Seferihisar, southwest of Izmir...

Private Ryan glanced over the top of the large rock he was behind, and thought he saw a man skulking in the bushes. On instinct, he leaned up and fired 6 rounds in the direction of the movement, and was rewarded with a scream. Turning to his fellow soldiers, he shouted at them to move up. “That was the last one, I think!”

“You think? Ryan, you’ll get us killed one of these days!”

“Not likely, Jonesy. Get your ass up here. I wanna get to that building.”

The soldier in question, Earl Jones, decided he should trust Ryan, who was, after all, the best soldier in the regiment. A little young, but he was a damned good shot with a rifle, and a cunning warrior. Staying low, Jones dashed up to Ryan and tapped him on the shoulder. “So what’s the plan, Fearless Leader?”

“I told you not to call me that. Now you cover me. I’m gonna run to that big roadblock. Then I’ll lay down suppression fire so the rest of you can get to the front of that building. Once we’ve got it secured, we’ll have a handy place to snipe at anyone in those buildings across the way. We keep doin’ that, and before long, we’ll have this whole road. Then we head for the center of town.”

“Sounds good to me, Fearless–Ryan.”

One soldier paused to check back to base with his radio.

“Base, this is Dixie. We’ve got almost to the edge of town. We got a few small buildings to take. How’re the other boys doing?”

“Better than you layabouts! We’ve got three snipers on that parking garage off the main drag, and eight patrols going building to building. You guys better pick up the slack. Head for the medium sized office building two streets down. Then we’ll have a crossfire on anyone coming up that street.”

The squad moved off. The invasion was going well. In five hours of fighting, the 8th division of the 12th Army had made it from the beaches to Seferihisar, one of the satellite cities of Izmir. Once this city, as well as the other coastal cities and Izmir itself were taken, the march to Ankara could begin. But a long few days of fighting lay before even Izmir, let alone Ankara.

The air, north of Izmir...

Private Marsh could feel the wind whipping through his hair as he plunged for the forest. He could see the lights of Izmir in the distance, occasionally obscured by the fire of an explosion as one of the A-16 gunships launched another missile. He saw the ground rushing up to meet him.

All of sudden, he could hear the rat tat of machine gun fire, and he knew his column was under fire from the forest below him. When they landed in the field that was rapidly approaching, they would be almost totally exposed. He called into his radio. “Contact! Enemy in trees north of Izmir. Request air support! We have no cover! Request air support!”

He saw the lights of the guns firing now, and the ground came rushing up. He landed, and cut his chute free as soon as he could. Dropping low into the foot-high grass, he prayed that the gunships had heard his call, or his column would go under without cover.

With a roar, one of the A-16s shot over his head, and launched a withering hail of cluster bombs. Peeling off, it flew back toward the city and its assignment, but it had done its work. The forest exploded in flames, and the gunfire stopped as the Turkish troops tried to figure out what had just happened to them.

Marsh saw the opportunity. He jumped up and yelled “CHARGE!” at the top of his lungs. He could see the rest of the paratroopers jump to their feet as well. They broke into a run, howling like demons as they hurtled into the trees, firing their weapons at anything that moved...

Three hours later, Marsh looked around at the forest, and wiped the sweat off his face. The fighting had been brutal, and the dead littered the forest. Fires from the bombs were still burning, and the place was no longer safe. “Where the hell is Major Simms,” he muttered. In the absence of someone else, he had become the pro tem leader of the paratroopers. “OK, boys, lets get out of these woods and into the hills. We need a fire base and some good cover before more of those Turkish bastards show up."

The troopers moved slowly off, some carrying the wounded over their shoulders. The dead would have to be left until the forest was safe for a burial detail. The fighting would only get harder before Izmir was taken.

OOC: :eek: One misplaced Hash has turned half your post Italic...

Oh, shit. Angry this makes Yoda.

--Yoda

Izmir General Power Station

Kamal extinguished his cigarette and threw the butt into the ash tray. He turned to leave the bathroom, not realizing that a pair of green eyes was watching him from the shadows. He had his hand on the doorknob when the arm snaked around his neck, and he felt something cold and hard pressed to the back of his head. He had seen to many movies not to know the cliche scenario. Kamal gulped. He felt his captor move backward, and his feet started moving despite his brain’s protests to resist.

The black-clad man dragged Kamal into the last stall, whirled him around, and threw him onto the commode. He leveled his pistol at the Turk’s face. “If you try to scream, I’ll kill you. Then I’ll kill whoever tries to find you. Answer my questions and I may just let you live.”

The armed man was speaking Turkish, but with a heavy foreign accent. Kamal answered, “I am a member of the Turkish Regular Army! I will not cooperate with you, invader. Your people ravage the lands of my–argh!”

He broke off as the man struck him full across the face with the butt of the pistol. Blood flowed freely from Kamal’s cheek. He gulped again, and weighed his options. He could scream, but that would condemn him to death. He had no doubts that this strange intruder would kill him without a second thought. And he’d probably live up to his promise and kill anyone who heard the scream and came to investigate. Kamal was a coward, and he didn’t want to die. “I will cooperate, Freudotopian. I will tell you everything I know.”

“Good. First, what’s your position here?”

“I’m just a guard. I don’t run any of the machinery. I patrol around the capacitors, and I pass by the generator room on my route. Apart from that, I know nothing about the machinery. I can tell you that there are only twenty guards in the whole complex, though. And only three more in the area of the machinery. Oh, and five in the command center.”

“Interesting...you catch on quick. Now, what parts of the machinery does nobody, mechanic or guard, ever see?”

“I...I don’t understand you.”

“I mean what would be the best place to set an explosive, if I wanted to blow the machines to Hell? Where could I put it so that no one could find it, even if they came looking for evidence of sabotage?”

“I guess you could put it in one of the ducts.”

“Duct?”

“There are air vents underneath the machines, and others on the ceiling, that run the lengths of the capacitor and generator rooms. If you wanted to put your bomb there, no one would find it.”

“Good. I think that’s everything...now what should I do with you? You’re pretty spineless; you answered my questions with almost no persuasion at all. I must say, I rather hoped you would resist...”

“So you will let me live? Sir?”

“Ha ha ha! No, I think you misunderstand. I don’t like cowards.”

He fired the pistol directly into Kamal’s forehead, and the guard slumped to the ground, instantly dead.

The masked man closed the stall door, went to the lightswitch, and killed the lights in the bathroom. Crouching in a corner, he spoke into a tiny radio mouthpiece.

“Brand? Ericsson? This is Ruby. I just found a guard who told me about some air ducts under the main machine room floors. You could put the RDX in one. He said no one would ever look there.”

“Okay, Ruby. We’re at the door of the generator room now. Brand’s got the ESC ready to go. Extract now. We’ll be right behind you.”

“Roger, Boss. Ruby out.”

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

Ulysses Ericsson, leader of Epsilon Corps, the most secretive, professional, and effective paramilitary force in Freudotopia, opened the generator room door and stepped inside the dark, humming room. Robert Brand, the demolitions and sabotage expert of the Corps followed closely behind. Epsilon Corps was a branch of the Freudotopian Imperial Intelligence Service, not the military. However, members were culled from the best of the military’s special forces units, were retrained to be intelligence gatherers as well as assault troopers, and provided with the best equipment and support Freudotopia had to offer.

The assignment was to plant a large amount of RDX, an extremely powerful explosive, in the generator and capacitor rooms to allow for remote destruction of the equipment. Cyclotrimethylene trinitramine, the proper name for RDX, was an explosive with more destructive power per gram than Semtex, and it was the weapon of choice for Epsilon Corps sabotage missions. Although the computer system of the complex was also being tapped, the explosives were there as an emergency contingency plan should the electronic intrusion be detected. Unlikely, but Epsilon Corps had not become so successful by leaving things to chance, or worse, the enemy.

Ericsson turned to his comrade. “Let’s get this thing set up, put one in the capacitor room, and get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Righto, chief. I think I see the ducts.”

“Good. Get to work, I’ll keep watch.”

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

Geoff Michaels, the computer whiz of the Corps, was kneeling behind a bank of computers in the main control room of the plant. Removing the back panel of the main console, which the other computers fed into, he set to work. Power displays, power storage, plant safety protocols, personnel files, and all manner of data could be obtained from this computer in seconds, but Michaels, though capable, wasn’t interested in that sort of one-time hack. He was placing a fiber-optic remote into the drive systems, and connecting all the cables to its many jacks. The device operated on low-frequency burst transmissions from a remote, secure computer. It essentially could take control of the plant’s main computer at the operator’s whim, and read all data in the system silently. There was almost no trace, and the minimal electronic fingerprint left by the device’s sophisticated anti-security programming was virtually impossible to find, except by a well-trained computer security expert. Michaels finished his task and replaced the panel. Packing up his kit, he stood up, and turned to leave the way he had come in, by air vent. As he neared the hole in the ceiling, however, he heard a soft noise behind him, and the sound of a Kalashnikov’s bolt being cycled next to his ear.

He cursed inwardly. How could he be so careless? Surprised by an ordinary guard. The boss would be extremely angry over this one. A voice spoke in Turkish from about a foot behind him. He understood the language better than most of his teammates, having been assigned to Turkey for a year and a half on a network-tapping intelligence jaunt.

“Don’t move, you bastard! I know who you are! Freudotopian scum, did you think you could hack our computers and take all our information? We’ll just change everything.”

Michaels was not unduly worried on that front. Changing their codes or routines in the complex would just make them think they were safe, but the remote would read all the changes made, and could continue to tap into the system. They would be just as vulnerable, but with none of the wariness that might help them detect the subtle sabotage. The Turk continued.

“Now, Freudotopian scum, put your hands on your head. I saw what you did to Mustafa, and I warn you now, if you try anything like that, you’ll be sorry. One move, and I kill you, Freudotopian scum. We go now to the security room, in which we recently installed some nice cozy accommodations for saboteurs like you.”

“Okay, I’ll come quietly. You caught me. I have no chance. I will cooperate.”

What utter rubbish. This poor sap thought he could take an elite member of Epsilon Corps prisoner?! Michaels resolved to cure him of that ridiculous notion. The trick, however, was to silence this guard, preferably lethally, without the AK-47 going off and alerting the whole facility.

The Turk kept the rifle close to Michaels’ head and started to walk him back across the room to the far door. As they reached the portal, the Turk seemed to realize he was in a building full of security guards, and alerting his compatriots should be a top priority. The guard paused, his gun still a hair from Michaels’ head, and reached for his radio. For a split second, he took his finger out from the trigger guard. Michaels noted this fatal mistake out of the corner of his eye and made his move. He dropped into a crouch, getting his head out of the gun’s way, and spun around and up, knocking the gun away. The guard never even got near the trigger. He stood there, one hand still on the radio handset, and hesitated, in shock. Another advantage for Michaels. His palm smashed into the guard’s face, driving the nasal bone into the brain. The guard collapsed, twitching. He’d be dead in seconds.

Michaels shoved the body into a corner and clambered into the air duct, crawling outside into the night in a matter of minutes. As he pulled himself from the shaft, he heard a movement behind him. He whirled, hand on his pistol, but it was only his team mate, Jackson Ruby. Michaels relaxed. They waited together for a few minutes before hearing their commander’s voice over the headsets.

“Okay, boys, we’ve got the Semtex in the capacitor and generator rooms. We’re coming to join you on the roof now.”

Five minutes later, Ericsson and Brand clambered out of the ventilation shaft and the four men crossed the roof to the four ropes they had used to infiltrate the plant. Sliding down, they made a dash for the large hole they had cut in the fence, and disappeared into the surrounding woods.


-Establishing Handshake Protocol
-Matching Ciphers
-Ciphers Matched
-Encrypting
-Message Encrypted
-Transmitting...


General-
My men have succeeded in sabotaging the Izmir General Power Station. The power in Izmir can now be cut for as long as needed by a remote computer interface. Also, any networks with ports in the powerplant can be tapped, and the security of the plant itself can be manipulated. The computer will be delivered to you shortly, and you may use it as you see fit. The authorization code for the device is 1668930-5583610651513-AAF. Should any problem arise with the device, contact me. If the destruction of the generators and capacitors in the plant becomes necessary, the computer can send the wireless signal to a series of explosive devices in the plant. The detonation code is 104-GAMMA-CCXC3-FOXTROT. Godspeed.

-Andre Murkaive

-Message Transmitted
-Initiating Trace Search
-Search Complete
-Dropping Line...


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



-Establishing Handshake Protocol
-Matching Ciphers
-Ciphers Matched
-Encrypting
-Message Encrypted
-Transmitting...

Status Report:

City of Istanbul: 98% occupied by Freudotopian forces, scattered insurgency.
City of Izmir: 65% occupied by Freudotopian forces, sabotage operations ongoing, determined resistance.
Capital of Ankara: Strategic airstrikes ongoing, sabotage operations ongoing.
Turkish Regular Army: Estimated 15% casualties inflicted. Morale breaking. Assassination operations aimed at leadership ongoing.

My Emperor, we have captured most of western Turkey, and their armies are stretched to thin to stop us. I predict it is only a matter of time before the country is ours. Soon I will deliver Turkey to you, my Emperor.

–General Tomas Bierlitz, FIA 12th Army.

-Message Transmitted
-Initiating Trace Search
-Search Complete
-Dropping Line...

http://usera.imagecave.com/mobrule132001/GINNLogoImproved.bmp.jpg

In a surprise move today by the Freudotopian government, elements of the Freudotopian air, army, and naval corps began a full-scale invasion of the sovereign state of Turkey. At exactly 4 AM, a cruise missile strike was launched from Freudotopian naval fleets off the Turkish coast, and moments later, explosions appeared in the night sky over the Turkish cities of Istanbul, Edremit, Ayvalik, Menemen, Izmir, Bornova, Soke, and Milas.

http://usera.imagecave.com/mobrule132001/Istanbulbombing.jpg

Fighting heated up outside the city of Ismir as Freudotopian paratroopers landed in an attempt to secure the area before a push into the city itself, a target listed as being of extremely high importance to the Freudotopian government. The Turkish army, caught almost completely off guard, struggled to regroup and fend off the attack, but Freudotopian air support proved their downfall in a three hour firefight in a forest outside of Ismir, with Freudotopian air raiding leaving the forest burned to the ground and over 200 Turks dead.

http://usera.imagecave.com/mobrule132001/abandonedturkishtank.jpg

In the city of Istanbul, Turkish military forces could be seen mobilizing for a defense of the city, which suffered heavily from offshore bombardment throughout the course of the day. The city is an important link between both east and west Turkey, and the Black and Mediterranean seas, making it an obviously appealing target for the Freudotopian military.

http://usera.imagecave.com/mobrule132001/Turkisharmyreadiesforwar.jpg

The Freudotopian military authority has not yet released casualty reports, and it is impossible to discern exact collateral damage estimates as of this moment, though we can only assume damage and casualty rates will be skyrocketing as the war drags on. For GINN, I’m Tanya Morakova.

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y160/Roach-Busters/RBNNN_logo.bmp


Roach-Busters National News Network - Live Broadcast


"Hello, everyone, this is Walter Krankheit, of RBBB, the most trusted name in government-approved news. Today, our great C A D ally Freudotopia has invaded the nation of Turkey. Remarkably, the decadent indigenous fools are resisting the liberating forces. As incredible as it may seem, they are actually rejecting- yes, you heard me correctly- rejecting Freudotopian rule, and all the benefits it would bring. Apparently, they would rather be a Third World slump pit than a great world power. Freudotopian rule would bring them unprecedented prosperity, yet they wish to remain in poverty. Let us pray that these fools die horribly for their ill judgment. Thank you, that is all. Good night."

OOC: RB, thank you for those glowing words of praise.

Bumped this thread has been; involved at any time you may become.

--Yoda

http://usera.imagecave.com/mobrule132001/yoda.bmp.jpg

Bumped this thread has been.

--Yoda

Hello, and this is the Imperial News Service, with Philemon of clan Hul here.

Today the Freudotopian government launched an air, sea, and land attack on the sovereign Republic of Turkey. The Sacred Emperor has yet to reply to this attack, but he is expected to support our close allies in Freudotopia. High General Dharus of the High Command told reporters: "This invasion is perfectly legal, and I fully expect Freudotopia to thus take its place in Eurasia with the conquest of Anatolia. No further comment."

In other news...

Casualty Report:

Military Casualties:

–Freudotopian Casualties
-Army: 3,677 KIA, MIA estimated 600. 5,604 injured.
-Navy: 80 KIA, 43 injured.
-Marines: 2,011 KIA, MIA estimated 250. 4,071 injured.
-Air Force: 101 MIA
–Turkish Casualties (Estimated):
-Army: 23, 800
-Navy: 9, 500
-Air Force: 2,000

Civilian Casualties:
15, 000 est.

Izmir, 1500 hours...

Their eyes fixed on the lone, grey, nondescript building, five Freudotopian soldiers readied their heavy ordnance. Their target was the last building over two stories still intact in downtown Izmir. After two weeks of heavy fighting, the last assault in Izmir was about to commence. They were stationed outside of town, in the lookout towers the Imperial Army had built for just this kind of occasion. Each held an AT-800 Wasp shoulder-fired missile launcher. Each had one high-explosive shell, designed to smash through the outer layer of the Izmir Republican Courthouse, delivering their deadly payloads straight to the soldiers inside. Intelligence said that 500 Turkish Republican Army diehards were hiding in the 12-story building, waiting for the inevitable attack. They thought that the Freudotopians, who had sustained heavy casualties in the fight for Izmir, would avoid a frontal assault. The Air Force bomber wing that had assisted in the attack on the city had been pulled off, and sent inland to make precision strikes against the capital city of Ankara. Only around 1,000 soldiers remained in the Izmir area. The last resistance had hidden from the tanks and infantry, taking refuge in the last undamaged building in the city.

Private Ryan, the leader of the five men, finished loading his weapon and switched on his radio, waiting for the signal to fire. In about five minutes, a pair of helicopters would drop 50 men on the roof. These would go into the building, some down the central stairs, others down external fire escapes. Once they were off the roof, Ryan and his men would demolish the top two floors with their missiles, making escape that way impossible. The troops would continue to move downward, providing a distraction for the main force of 200 infantrymen who, in true G.I. Joe fashion, would charge the front doors, then move upwards floor by floor, killing everything in sight. Caught between the two forces of heavily armed and fairly angry Freudotopians, the Turks would die by the hundreds. Hopefully, in no more than two hours, the last pocket of resistance in Izmir would be crushed.

Ryan knew that this would be the last major operation in Izmir, a city that was now largely under the control of the Army. The focus of the war had shifted now to Ankara. With the recent capture of Istanbul, it was not long before the entire western part of Turkey was safely under Freudotopian control. When they could be confident in moving against Ankara, the Freudotopians would hit the Turkish capital with everything, hoping to take the city quickly and avoid a long seige. Propaganda leaflets printed in English, Arabic and Turkish had been dropped over the city, making it clear that any person still in the city when the attack came would be treated as a combatant; it was therefore advisable that all civilians evacuate the city immediately. The Turkish government had at first tried to stop this mass exodus, hoping to put up a show of security and strength, but their charade fooled no one, and it was decided to let the people go, rather than turn Ankara into a slaughterhouse.

His radio crackled, disturbing Ryan’s reflections, and Ryan heard his friend H. Bob Dixie speak.

“Okay, Ryan. We’re two minutes out. Ready missiles. Fire on my command.”

“Roger, Dixie. Good luck.”

Ryan turned to his men. “Get those loaded, boys, we’ve got some killin’ to do.” His men duly finished their preparations, and like him trained the large launchers at the courthouse. A moment later, the two black helicopters roared over their heads. The men watched as the choppers hovered over the building. Dozens of long ropes snaked down to the roof, and the grey-clad troops slid down and headed for the elevator shafts, stairs, and fire escapes. The men disappeared from view, and Ryan knew they were fighting for their lives against the desperate Turks. Ryan heard Dixie again on the radio, talking to someone else.

“Just got confirmation. Power is down in the building. No moving elevators, lights, phones, or alarms. Let’s go! Ryan! Ryan, you there?”

“Yes, I am. Wondered what took you so long.”

“Shut up and shoot the top of the building off, buddy.”

“Got that, Dixie. Tell your boys to cover their ears. Ryan out.”

With a nod to his four squad mates, he checked his aim again, and loosed the missile. Within a second, four others joined it, their trails leaving a slight line of smoke in the clear midday sky. In two seconds, the missiles impacted, and a roar echoed back at the five men. Fires leapt from the windows as the top floors where blown apart. What once had been offices were blasted into pieces, the only remaining structure being the steel supports. Everything was burning, and no one could have survived. Their job was done.

Meanwhile...

“Down, Dixie, down!”

Dixie dived for cover under a desk, hearing the hail of bullets whistle overhead. Had he not ducked, he would’ve been Swiss cheese. He heard his team return fire, the deep bark of their GIR-47f rifles drowning out the sharp cracks of the outdated Kalashnikovs the Turks had. Ten more seconds of non-stop gunfire, and then silence. Dixie raised his head slowly. Four Turks were lying in a veritable river of blood, their bodies shot to Hell. This didn’t bother Dixie unduly. He had seen far worse happen to his own men.

“Thanks, O’Connor. Think you just saved my life again.”

“No problem, Sergeant. Buy me a beer later. Or better yet, a new life insurance policy.”

“Roger. Let’s move out.

Leading his twelve men out of the office and down a hall, he said a silent prayer of thanks. Not only had he survived, but none of his team had been injured or killed yet, and they were already three floors down. He could hear the sounds of battle below, and he knew that the two hundred angry soldiers from the 34th were doing their job with a vengeance. They weren’t called the Reapers for nothing.

At the end of the hall, the door that led to the stairs had been blasted off its hinges. With caution, Dixie led his squad down a flight to the next landing, where the door was similarly askew. He peeked around the corner and barely pulled his head back before a 7.62 slug punched a three-inch hole in the wall. Laughs followed, and a defiant yell.

“Come and get us, you pigs! We will die bathing in your blood! Come, and may Allah be merciful to you!”

This gave Dixie an idea. He’d always been an inventive chap, and he had no patience for braggarts and windbags either.

In a quavering voice, Dixie called out to his unseen foes, while motioning for O’Connor to ready a grenade. He reached for one of his own. He had to keep talking, to pinpoint the location of the enemy.

“Please, don’t shoot us. We’ll come out. You have the upper hand. Just don’t...don’t hurt me or my men. I’m a coward, I don’t want to die.”

A mocking reply came back, and Dixie pulled the pin on his grenade.

“Ha ha ha! Then come out, coward, and we’ll decide whether or not to kill you. Come out!”

Dixie threw his grenade around the corner, towards the sound of the voice. O’Connor followed suit. Two loud bangs, and Dixie charged around the corner, followed by his men. They had nothing more to do. The two grenades had made short work of the group of Turks. He counted eight in the small room. They had probably been hiding, waiting to ambush anyone coming down the stairs. Still the sounds of gunfire and screaming came from downstairs, and he knew his work was not yet done.

Dixie turned to head down the corridor to the next office, and heard the shots. Time slowed, and he felt something hit him in the back. He hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him, and time speeded back up. He heard yells as two of his men were hit, and then he responded. Raising his head, he could see the trio of Turks that had hit them from behind. He pulled the trigger of his rifle, and it jumped in his hands, spraying fully-automatic death at a rate of 900 rounds per second. One of the men fell, blood spraying from his chest. Dead. Dixie’s teammates were scrambling for cover, trying to get into the doorways. He could see O’Connor out of the corner of his eye, bleeding from the stomach. The second Turk fell, pierced through the head. Dead. The third Turk shot him in the chest, and Dixie was thrown to the floor again, but his vest saved him. The Turk ran forward, and lowered his rifle to Dixie’s forehead. His team finally leaned out from the doorways on either side of the hall, and the Turk was blown backward by the force of twenty or more rounds in his head and chest. Most certainly dead. Three seconds had passed.

Dixie staggered upright, looking down at his torso. No blood. His vest had held. Then he saw O’Connor, his face white, looking up at him. He coughed blood. Dixie lifted him, as if he weighed no more than a child, and carried him into the office. Laying him on the ground, he inspected the wound.
“Stay calm, O’Connor. I’m not letting you die today. You’ve got more battles in you yet.”

“Sarge, I don’t think I can make it.”

“Rubbish. We’ll get this slug out of you, and you’ll be fine. Hear that? The boys are getting closer. They’re probably only three floors down, and then we’ll get you out of here. I’m no doctor, but this doesn’t look to bad.”

Removing a large amount of gauze from his first-aid kit, he wrapped O’Connor’s stomach up tight. That would stop the bleeding long enough, he hoped, to get O’Connor to a surgeon.

“Hold on, boy. You saved my life, now I intend to return the favor. I will personally carry you out of here and straight to the doc.”

There was no answer. O’Connor’s eyes were closed. Dixie felt for a pulse, and though it was weak, it was definitely there. He turned back to his waiting squad. He barked,

“Alright, I’m done playing doctor. I’m still your sergeant, and we’ve got to secure this floor. Wiliamsl, you stay here with me. Patrick, you take Martin, Doyle, and Flemmings, and clear out every room on this floor.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Jones! How many did we lose?”

“Three, sir: Vodin, Potter, and Streblowsky.”

“Damn. Good men, good soldiers. We’ll make those Turkish bastards pay.”

Four hours later, back at base, Dixie waited impatiently for the field surgeon to come out of the operating room. Finally his wish was granted. The aging doctor with greying hair and a thick build walked out, his scrubs still stained with blood.

“Well, out with it, Doc. Is he okay?”

“He is, Sergeant, and in large part due to your efforts. I’ll see that you get a commendation for this.”

This news brightened Dixie considerably.

“Great! O’Connor’s alive, I get a new medal, what could spoil my day?”

“Perhaps this: we lost forty-six men in that assault.”

“Holy Mary on a bicycle!”
“You could put it that way. I’m glad that we’ve got Izmir now, and Istanbul too, because things will get even bloodier when we move on Ankara.”

“No shit. Will you be shipping out, or staying as part of the occupation force?”

“Doctors don’t occupy. But since you asked, I’ll be leaving. Not to blow my own horn, but I’m a damn good doctor, and we’ll need a hundred more like me if we’re gonna take Ankara without even more slaughter.”

“Doc, I hate to say it, but I think bloodshed’s unavoidable.”

“Yes, sergeant, but I mean real slaughter. Like in Ismeria twenty years ago. You wouldn’t remember, you’re not nearly old enough. But let’s just say this: it made this whole invasion look like Grenada.”

Dixie let out a low whistle. “Then let’s hope they find a hundred more like you, for everyone’s sake.”

OOC:

NEXT: The attack on Ankara. Bloody urban warfare. It’ll make Iraqi insurgency look like Cub Scouts with peashooters. Anyone who wants to RP media, write something. I don’t care what. I’d actually really like to see someone pull a Tariq Aziz and try to twist the story, make it look like Turkey is winning. That would be humorous.