NationStates Jolt Archive

Guadalombian News International

“Hello, and welcome to Guadalombian News International. I am Ricardo Melcón. Today, our magnificent leader and president, General Emilio Diez Calvo, announced that he intends to greatly increase the tenacity of the campaign against rebel forces in the southern regions of the nation. This follows the attempt on his life last week that many suspect was the work of the A.P.L.G, a rebel terrorist organization striving to undermine the enlightened reign of President General Calvo in favor of left wing ideals that would usher the country into a period of immeasurable poverty and widespread anarchy.

As it stands, Marxist rebels control an estimated 14% of Guadalombian territory in the south of the country. There are numerous factions and militias among the rebels, however many have allied under the leadership of the FALG, the largest organization among the rebel movements. The President General stated however, that he would not differentiate between the rebel organizations no matter who was responsible for the attempted assassination, which claimed the life of the President’s trusted advisor, Señor Berto Renaldo. He has further mentioned that he will be authorizing further mobilizations of the Guadalombian National Army to combat the threat by moving in force into rebel held areas, and taking the fight to them.

The Guadalombian Minister of Defense, General Manuel Nembro has stated that the Guadalombian Army is more than up to the task, and predicts that the rebel armies will have been crushed by October of this year. For the latest updates, remember to turn to GNI.”

----------

two days earlier

Defense Minister Manuel Nembro paced anxiously in front of the large sunlit windowpane, feeling the intense gaze of President General Calvo on him. The President sat at the far end of a long, well polished table, his face obscured by the glare from the sun, smoke trailing from the hand rolled Guadalombian cigar hanging from the corner of his thin mouth. The president was silent, which was never a good sign.

“Manuel, both my chief of internal security and the head of the intelligence bureau are telling me that it was not indeed a rebel assassin who shot at me in my home. Why, then, are you trying to tell me otherwise? Pardon me if I am incorrect, but is it not the job of the intelligence chiefs to manage the intelligence?”

Nembro stopped pacing, and shifted nervously on his feet.

“My president, I am certain that both señor Sombrado and señor Imaz are correct in their judgment, as you are most certainly correct in saying that my job is not theirs, but you must also know that the rebel forces, they have been making many advances against our soldiers in the south. We must have a springboard upon which to take action against them, and this opportunity is perfect.”

Calvo was silent, and Nembro could feel his hard stare on his forehead, though he could not see his eyes. The president exhaled slowly, nearly sighing, as he slowly got out of his chair, and began walking over to Nembro. Nembro could feel the sweat pricking on the back of his collar, and he swallowed heavily. As Nembro stood still, not daring to allow himself to turn to face the president, Calvo paced around the short and stocky defense minister. He spoke softly, near whispering, his voice like water on glass.

“My dear Defense Minister, my friend Manuel, you are very quick to presume what I know and what I do not know.”

Calvo brought his face very close to Nembro’s ear.

“I know everything.”

He continued pacing, leaving Nembro nearly shivering.

“Of course I have already considered what you are suggesting. We cannot allow the rebel scum to think that they can touch me so easily as the callous fool did so seven days ago.”

The president spat out this last bit with complete and utter disgust.

“I shall never forget that day. I shall mark it on my calendar every year until I find the scum who did it, and am given the privilege of skinning him alive.”

He spoke slowly, savoring the words like wolves do the sweet blood from raw meat. His head snapped up and his gaze pierced into Nembro’s eyes.

“Do you know how much of my territory the pigs control today, Manuel?” Do you know how much of my country they despoil with their filthy presence?”

“F-fourteen percent of the c-country ssir?”

“Twenty-two percent, Nembro! Twenty-two percent of my land!”

Calvo stormed over to Nembro, getting right in his face.

“This past week I have heard of nothing but failure. Failure to protect me from embarrassment in front of my guests, failure to catch my assailant, failure to halt the rebel attacks in Nueva Gijón. I don’t like failure, defense minister Nembro. I like success. And I haven’t seen enough success to keep me satisfied. Do you know what happens when I’m not satisfied, Manuel?”

Nembro was shaking under the suppressed rage of the president. He swallowed once again. Calvo’s hand whipped behind his back, and near instantly it was at Nembro’s throat, a long glinting knife clasped between the fingers and palm. He let it stay there for a few seconds, before withdrawing and replacing it. Calvo turned and walked back to his seat. The tension and rage seemed to melt away like snow in spring.

“I believe you are on the right track, Minister. You are thinking clearly in your strategy. We must not let the rebels thinks that they can get close to me with so much ease. You will send your armies into the southern provinces, and you will pry the land they control from their grasp. You will send your men into the towns and the villages. If you find any who sympathize with the rebels, you will kill them. I cannot allow this rebellion to continue through corrupt ideals ingrained in the heads of my people. Do I make myself clear, Minister Nembro?”

“V-very much so, your Excellency.”

“Excellent, now if you will excuse me, I must be getting back to business.”

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

Florida, Guadalombian Town 47 kilometers south of Puerto Calvo

Lieutenant Ramon Negro crept carefully over the dense undergrowth of the thick jungle outside the town of Florida, a town the Guadalombian army suspected had become a forward base of operations for rebel militias in the area. Negro raised his hand to quiet his men, keeping the other on the grip of the M-4 that hung over his shoulder. The Guadalombian National Army patch on the right breast of his green camouflage fatigues was the only indication of his allegiance.

Through the foliage, he spotted motion in front of a one story building on the edge of the jungle. He soon heard voices coming through the trees. Sure enough, they were rebel guerillas. He moved slowly over the jungle floor, gesturing for his men to do likewise. He neared the edge of the treeline, and could almost clearly see the face of one of the men, a red bandanna wrapped over his head. Suddenly the roar of an explosion resounded as a black smoke cloud drifted up over the rooftops. Lieutenant Negro grimaced. One of the other teams had broken cover, and the element of surprise was lost. While the heads of the two soldiers were turned, he charged forward, and slammed his rifle butt into the back of one of their heads, while a sharp knife made it’s home between the vertebrae of the second.

Shouts and gunfire resounded further across town, and Negro gestured for the rest of his team to move. Shouldering his gun, he led two others to the door of the one story home, and landed a kick with his heavy black boot square in the center of the door. The hinged swung inward, and Negro charged in, shouting. A woman and young girl huddled in the corner, frightened by the intrusion. Negro order the others to check the roof. A few moments later, he heard a shot, and his men returned downstairs, a red bandanna in one of their hands.

“The husband I think. Here.”

The soldier tossed the bandanna at the man’s feet, and looked at the woman.

“What about her?”

“Leave her. She’s harmless.”

“You know what they say, though. The rebels recruit of both sexes.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Negro waved his hand, and stepped back out into the street, where his men were engaging the surprised rebel soldiers at every intersection and home. Two shots rang out inside the home, and Negro grimaced. It was a dirty job, but it had to be done for the sake of stability.

The firefight was in full force now. Five teams of twenty Guadalombian soldiers and an armored personnel carrier were pushing the rebels back along the streets, all the while sweeping houses for traitors. Rocket propelled grenades slammed into the windows of houses where machine guns had chattered away. Grenades and Molotov cocktails ignited ammunition supply storages, blowing entire houses sky high.

An hour later, the fighting wound down as the last of the rebels submitted to death or withdrew into the jungle. Lieutenant Negro stood in the center of an intersection, where three rebel corpses and one of his men lay stinking in the afternoon sun. A soldier walked up to him and saluted.

“Sir, fifteen dead, twenty-eight wounded. We count about sixty-two rebel dead, and a shitload of their supplies gone up in smoke.”

“Alright, good work, sergeant. We’ll rest here for a few hours, then head back.”

“Right sir, I’ll radio command.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Negro walked over and took a seat on some worn stone steps, removing the canteen from his waist and drinking deeply of the cool sweet water.

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

Guadalombian Intelligence Bureau Headquarters, Puerto Calvo

Minister of Intelligence Alejandro Imaz placed the phone’s receiver back on the hook and leaned back in his chair. His agents had been making progress on identifying the man who had shot and wounded the president, but not enough progress to yield any decisive results. It had been determined that the man was most likely not a Guadalombian national. Ballistic investigations had yielded enough data to support the hypothesis that the weapon used was not one to be found in Guadalombian arms markets. Internal security and the foreign Intelligence bureau made certain they had enough informants and agents undercover to report on the inventories of the largest and most popular black market arms bazaars and underground private dealers. As far as his information would tell him, no one was selling 21st century high powered rifles. Dragunov SVDs were present, but not common, and the caliber of ammunition didn’t fit that model. The rebel computer databases that would have logged an addition of such a weapon to the inventory, or the purchase of the rifle from rebel suppliers had not changed to show that such a purchase had occurred.

Of course it was still a possibility that the rifle had made its way into the hands of a home grown assailant, but with the overwhelming evidence against it, it seemed rather far fetched. So the next most likely scenario was that the assailant had been a paid hitman. The most likely group to hire the man would have been the rebels, and if that was indeed the case, then enough action had already been taken by the military and internal security in the form of retaliation, and preventive measures to make sure such an event could not happen again.

Still, something in the back of his mind troubled Imaz. It would have made far more sense to simply utilize one of their own to assassinate the President General. If the rebels knew of the weak points in the security enough to inform a foreign contract killer, why couldn’t they have performed the operation themselves? A Guadalombian national would have been far less conspicuous, and the purchase of an SVD sniper rifle from one of he usual black markets may have gone practically unnoticed, with the relative commonality of such purchases. Either way, the rebels would have expected a retaliation if failure was the result, and they were known to not be a group that particularly trusted outsiders. Something just didn’t fit.

Imaz had watched the various world intelligence agencies’ games in turbulent nations for years, and was himself a veteran of KGB schools during the time of the USSR. He knew how the game was played. The first rule of an assassination attempt was, of course, find an alternate path around assassination, but the second was what stuck in his mind here: always find a scapegoat. That’s what the president wanted now, a scapegoat. He wanted the head of the man who had shot him, but more importantly, he wanted the world to know his revenge had been swift and confident. The rebels were going to be his target, and whoever had paid the assassin knew it. Imaz was sure of that, and he was going to get to the bottom of things if it was the last thing he did.

OCC: Very good thread, twice as better than me starting one. I will support the rebels logistically, your government won't know it.

Media Center, Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Imperium, Republic of New Britain

“And ma’am, any comment on President Calvo’s statement to increase the ‘tenacity of the campaign’ against the nation’s Marxist rebels?”

Emily Deveraux smiled politely, frantically trying to find any prior reference to a President Calvo in her earlier remarks – either today or any other day. She could think of nothing, of course, it could be a new nation; the press loved nothing more than to throw her off by talking about a nation new to the world. ‘Well, Frank, to be honest, the United Kingdom is always concerned about domestic insurgencies as they tend to affect the stability of the current political climate. As such, we would encourage President Calvo to further engage the rebels in talks before taking any unnecessarily harsh action.”

She smiled and pointed at yet another reporter, the day of the Minister of Foreign Affairs never ended.

From the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Empire
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/f/fe/NapLogo_copy.jpg

The Empire stands with Guadalombia, and her legitimate government and its leader, President General Emilio Diez Calvo. One of the Empire’s citizens and emissaries, one Jean-Baptiste Durand, was witness to the heinous attempt on the life of the President.

It is the policy of the Empire to combat militant Marxists wherever they may seek to spread their anarchy on the globe, and it is our policy to stand in solidarity with the forces of civilization and stability. Though our nation currently has limited resources, we shall lend whatever aid we can to Guadalombia, whilst she is under siege by the forces of Bolshevism.

Richard Tyler
Minister of Foreign Affairs
For His Highness Jacques I, Regent of the Empire
And HIH Napoleon VIII, Soon-to-be-Coronated

Secret Telegram to Marxists: We are aware in your struggles and we will do anything we can to aid in the victory of Marxism-Leninism and national liberation, farewell comrades.
- Rudolfo Axel Davinson, Second Secretary of the Communist Party of Karuchea

The government of Manhattan Prime expresses both our condolences and support to President Calvo - we are shocked at the cold brutality of the attempt on his life. In the aftermath of such an attempt, in the middle of a state dinner one of our delegates was attending, we can only offer you such support as you may need, and hope our countries can arrange a mutual trade or diplomatic agreement soon.

Secret IC: Our intelligence services also express a desire to work with those of our new friends in the Dracun Imperium in finding the culprit.

-tagged, very good thread!-

The Chancellor was in a high profile meeting with the Vice Chancellor, who had recently returned from El Caudillo. They had been discussing the term of actions, and what the Vice Chancellor had seen and discovered. The only good thing that had come from out of this was that Manhattan Prime was now an ally, who was now asking to work with DIA (Dracun Intelligence Agency).

The Intelligence head, Adrian Tinverian, Anthony's distant cousin was also there. He also reported some disturbing news, "Chancellor, we have noticed that attacks against the rebels have stepped up and informants throughout the world are reporting various things. One of them is that the Guadalombia Rebels had nothing to do with the attack."

The Chancellor was not shocked to hear that news, as many nations would have done the same, find a scapegoat till the real culprit was found. The Chancellor was becoming more and more suspicious of this President General, "What have they reported besides that?"


"Nothing of value...they just gave us a few video tapes that is all." Adrian said.

"Alright, Adrian continue your work, and inform Manhattan prime that we will work with them, We will also led military support to Guadalombia but we will capture and bring the rebels here for interrogation... I want to see why they are fighting."

They both nodded and went to their tasks. Throughout the Dracun Imperium the army mobilized for its first full scale war under the reign of the Chancellor. The fleet stocked, and the air force fueled, as the Dracun Imperium would keep its word for now...

(OOC: Note on contacting the rebel forces:

The various rebel groups, most notable the FALG are highly suspicious of outside involvement under any circumstance, which makes forging a successful relationship with them a difficult affair in and of itself, that is, however, assuming one can get in touch with their leaders. The rebel guerillas for the most part avoid 21st century technology, relying on landline telephones, and occasionally satellite and cell phones in addition to their trusty two way radios. In some of the more technologically apt cells, E-mail is used, but the Guadalombian intelligence and internal security agencies monitor and trace every message sent, making it near suicidal to attempt to use it for anything useful. These factors point to one dated but reliable means of getting in touch with the rebellious factions, sending an agent into the rebel controlled areas to do so in person.)

OOC: Tag. I'm currently on vacation, and my Internet access is rather inconsistent, so I may not be able to post again until Monday or Tuesday.]

OOC: Tag. I'm currently on vacation, and my Internet access is rather inconsistent, so I may not be able to post again until Monday or Tuesday.]

(OOC: Don't worry about it. I'll leave the stuff that has to do with you until after you get back. Enjoy your vacation.)

(OOC: Don't worry about it. I'll leave the stuff that has to do with you until after you get back. Enjoy your vacation.)

OOC: Thanks. It's a bit cold where I am, but it'll be fun nonetheless. Just out of curiosity, where do you plan on going with this? Will there be an opportunity for Delta One to complete his "unfinished business" in the future, perhaps? ;)

Internal Security Bureau Headquarters, Puerto Calvo

Horatio Sombrado watched with still eyes through the one-way window as the catlike GISB agent prowled around the chair to which the shaking captive was secured. Through a speaker over his head, Sombrado was able to listen in on the conversation. So far, the rebel prisoner had been holding surprisingly well under the onslaught of verbal abuse and thinly veiled threats. Despite his trembling, the fire in his eyes was still burning, however, Sombrado also knew that that sort of fire was what his star interrogator thrived on. Sombrado watched with suppressed delight as the agent halted directly in front of the prisoner, shouted something at him, and landed a great blow square in the center of his face.

The prisoner yelped, and toppled over in his chair, his nose gushing blood, and twisted at an awkward angle. The agent righted the chair with the prisoner still bound to it, and shouted again. The man looked frantically from side to side as if looking for a way out, but a second blow, this time to his jaw, sent him sprawling to the floor again. The agent, after righting the man a second time, backhanded him.

“Answers, you scum! Answer me!”

The prisoner was now thoroughly shaken, and Sombrado could see the fire flickering. He would break soon. The agent had reached into his boot and withdrawn a long, folding razor blade, which he waved in front of the prisoner’s face. His wide eyes followed it from side to side.

“All I need is a name, and we can all go home.”

“This was it,” Sombrado thought. It was over. He turned and walked out of the viewing room, into the attached office. A moment later, the agent joined him.

“Pablo Estasio. A drug baron.”

“He’s the man who is arming the APLG?”

“Our friend says he pours a lot of his profits into the organization, as well as in maintaining his private army.”

“Do we have a location?”

“He has a villa on a plantation somewhere west of Nueva Gijón.”

“Good. I’ll send the information to the President.”

“What do we do with him?”

The agent gestured over his shoulder towards the door to the interrogation chamber.

“He is worthless now. You may dispose of him.”

“Of course, Señor Sombrado.”

"Today, the Great Leader has openly declared support for the Rebels, saying that now is the time to spread Marxism-Leninism across the globe. In his great knowledge, the Leader has declared that as far as Prachanda is concerned, the "rebels" are the government of Guadalombia and will be recognized as such."
-----------------------
Prachanda News Broadcast

Official Statement From the Government of the Enlightened Military Despotism of Guadalombia-

The great President General Emilio Diez Calvo, in all of his wisdom, has declared his personal condemnation for all who would support the criminal and terrorist organizations that oppose his enlightened and humble reign over the free nation of Guadalombia. He reaffirms the fact that the rebellious organizations are funded by drug dealers with money stained red by the blood of innocent Guadalombians, and states his certainty that if the rebels were to take the helm of the nation, a thug regime would be put in place based solely on the cultivation of dangerous narcotics and the intimidation and oppression of the people.

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

Don Pablo Estasio’s Coca Plantation and Villa, 12 KM west of Nueva Gijón

The roar of the rotors of helicopter gunships resounded out over the tips of the tall trees bordering the edges of the fields, enclosed by a barbed wire fence approximately 8 kilometers in length. In the rear compartment of the leading chopper, ferocious looking Guadalombian soldiers clad in dark green fatigues with black balaclavas over their mouths and noses waited. Each man bore on his helmet and shoulder an insignia consisting of a skull clenching a bullet in its teeth, the mark of the Guadalombian Special Response Forces, the GISB’s feared hit squad, elite soldiers trained in high speed, well coordinated assaults with the intent of killing or capturing key rebel figures. Now, their sights were trained on the head of Pablo Estasio.

As the silhouettes of the five helicopters fell over the seemingly endless fields, plantation wage slaves looked up in confusion. Upon realizing what was going on, the workers began shouting wildly, and running for cover. Members of Estasio’s private army, a unit fueled by blood and cocaine money, turned their own eyes skyward, and then the muzzles of their rifles.

The bullets clinked off the sides of the choppers as Estasio’s men opened fire. GSRF men threw open the side doors of the choppers, and manned the heavy machine guns, opening up with a hail of lead to give their enemies a one way ticket to an early grave. Blood stained the soil as soldiers were cut to ribbons. The choppers moved onward, towards the looming white structure of the villa.

On the balcony of his home, Don Pablo Estasio watched, eyes full of rage, as the helicopters came roaring in over his fields. He let out a primordial yell as he was ushered inside, to be replaced by a man carrying a stinger missile launcher over his shoulder.

A white streak and a screaming alarm warned of the missile’s approach, and the chopper moved wildly to evade, and the missile screamed past, only to turn and fly directly into the chopper’s exhaust system. A great fireball lit up the noonday sky, as the flaming wreckage fell to the ground, igniting the plants below. The choppers kept their course, however, and a rocket streaked from a pod under the chopper’s wing, slamming into the balcony from where the surface to air missile had come, and blowing it clean off.

One of the choppers moved in over another balcony, and leveled to allow one of the gunners to fire straight through a large window at guards scattered through Don Estasio’s living room. A second helicopter lowered itself over a flat portion of the roof, unloading a team of GSRF soldiers, who moved into the building via a skylight. The other choppers touched down outside, and soldiers rushed for the front and back entrances.

The scene inside became a massacre as Estasio’s men were hit from all sides. Estasio himself forced his way to his office, and bolted himself inside, huddling in a corner with a 12 gage shotgun cradled in his hands. As the gunfire grew closer to his door, he began sweating bullets, reciting the Hail Mary under his breath. The firefight was right outside his door now. He could hear the frantic shouts of his men as they tried to hold off the government death squad. He raised the gun to his shoulder, trembling wildly. Suddenly, everything went silent. Without warning, the door exploded inward. Estasio fired into the doorway, blowing the face off a government soldier. A second followed, and took a shot in the vest, which sent him slamming against the wall. Estasio fumbled for more shells, but the soldiers swarmed in, and in seconds, all that was left of Don Pablo Estasio was a bullet riddled corpse.

Presidential Command Bunker Complex
Port Yuko, Bonstock

Lord Harald Gustavsson, President of Bonstock, sat behind his desk as always. A naked lightbulb flickered on and off overhead, as Harald tried to focus on the intelligence reports. His daily briefing, of course, prepared by his aide, Colonel Lin Mei.

"Colonel," Lord Harald said, "what is this section?"

Colonel Lin, standing as tall as her 5 foot 3 body could, looked over. "Guadalombia, sir. Leftist rebels."

"Not a good sign. It is in our interest that their government remain in power. I will not have yet another leftist hippy running wild on our planet."

"Sir, the 1st Brigade of the 6th Airborne Division is on alert, if action is needed. Also, the Charles Ste. Evremonde Carrier Battle Group is in the region, with an Amphibious Ready Group. We also have the 24th Fighter Wing on call for deployment. Will that be sufficient?"

"Our most elite units, committed to battle like so? It is more then enough. The Guadalombian rebels will learn the true meaning of fear from us. Contact the Guadalombian government immediately."

"Yes, sir."

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

Encrypted Message

"The Federal Republic of Bonstock is willing to help Guadalombia out in their crusade against the rebel terrorists. We currently have about 6,000 of our most elite troops ready to deploy to your country. They only require a suitable airbase to operate out of. If you accept, we will also give your government special discounts at the ArmsDiscounters Bonstock military storefront. The rebels will be crushed under our iron heels. Please accept our offer.

With all regards,

Harald, son of Gustav, lord of all Bonstocknians"

"We need to end this now before more Fascists come to the aid of the government" spoke Rudolfo Axel Davinson, Second Secretary of the Party. "You're right, if we don't do anything, it will only be the Rebels against foreign legions and a Fascist regime at home. Prepare the army for war, we have 1.5 Million standing, prepare 500,000 of them to aid the Rebels." replied Chairman Bashar Al-Mohamet. "F...five hundred thousand?! are you sure about that father? isn't that a bit much?" answered Rudolfo. "Do not question me, my son, we will send 500,000. Send a directive to the Council of State and have them confirm this move, then send a telegram to Quezadria, Prachanda, Eskvindblair, Stalinstadt, Mengistua, Afemera, Embroza and Tricontinental. Tell them in the name of Marxism-Leninism we need to raise a combined army of Five Million for this campaign, tell them it will not be needed at once, but it might be if this war escalates. Tell them to prepare to send two million at first. We move in tomorrow." "yes, father" was all that Rudolfo could reply as he walked to the phone and told the Council of State to confirm this. He then called the other leaders to tell them of this.

Official Statement From Red Tide Goverment
"We are in full support of the rightful goverment of Guadalombia and will be sending the 4th Mechanized INfatnry Division with the 2nd Artillery Regiment attached. They will be sent in via airlift."
End Message

Official Statement From Tech-Com Corporation
"President General Emilio Diez Calvo, we sympathize with your efforts. You may purchase weapons off us with a 25% discount."
End Message

The Socialist Workers Party of Quezadria understands the current situation and would like to send 200,000 troops to aid the government, the real government of guadalombia, the Marxist-Leninists against their Fascist masters. All Power to the Soviets!
-------------
Official Line, Socialist Workers Party of Quezadria

The People's Republic of the Tricontinental has pledged its support to the rebels. We are determined more than ever to help out any leftist rebel group who is fighting a for a revolution anywhere. The funds will be sent ASAP.

- Communist Party of the Tricontinental

OOC: I suppose I did not make myself clear before. The rebels cannot be contacted simply by vague "transmissions". They simply do not have the technology to communicate on a first world basis with international governments. If one wants to get in touch with them, one will have to insert a human being to locate a rebel garrison and communicate in person.

-encrypting…
-beginning transmission…

From the Guadalombian Department of the Interior
To Harald, son of Gustav, lord of all Bonstocknians

The Enlightened Military Despotism of Guadalombia is pleased to find a rational and sane government not confused by the words and promises of the drug dealers who want control over this fine nation, and gratefully accepts your support in whatever form. The Guadalombian military authority has already set aside a military airbase just outside the town of Florida, 47KM south of the capital city of Puerto Calvo, to be used for your purposes. Upon the arrival of your forces, their commanders will be put in touch with the Guadalombian military and intelligence authorities, and given all necessary information to effectively combat the cancer that is now infecting our land.

Good day,
Arturo Berdugo, Chairman of the Guadalombian Minister of the Interior

In the White House, Rome...

The Dictator was pacing around the oval office wondering why his message to the Marxist never came. He thought that the messenger got caught. He called his lieutenants to discuss what kind of logistical support they should send.

General Saddam suggested that they should send mass amounts of Soldier uniforms and small arms. For Example: 2 million XM-8 Rifles, 1 million M240G Machine Guns, 1 million SR-25 Sniper Rifles. They will send 5 million Uniforms for the Marxists to use. Each uniform will include Interceptor Body Armor, Ballistic/Laser Protective Spectacles, Helmet, AN/PVS-14 Night Vision Goggle, Thermal Goggle, AN/PAQ-4C Infrared Aiming Light, & Land Warrior Equipment.

The Dictator stood up and shouted at Saddam how the hell the Marxists will have the knowledge to use the equipment. Saddam sat there with fear because he disgraced the fatherland.

General Gandhi suggested to the Dictator, still standing up and angry with Saddam, that they should send 100 Army Special Forces Operators & 100 Equipment training personnel. The Dictator was somewhat happy at the idea, so he wanted to send more personnel like a Brigade from an Airborne Division.

General Kumar asked if they could send Aircraft to help the Marxists. The Dictator will decide if the idea is good. Kumar suggested that they should send 10,000 AH-1Z Super Cobras, 10,000 OH-58D Kiowa Warriors, 200 A-10 Warthogs, 1000 UH-60M Blackhawks, and 150 F-15 Eagles. Kumar didn’t want to forget the personnel that will help the Marxists, since the Dictator shouted at Saddam. Kumar estimated that they should send 300 Maintenance Personnel to help and teach the Marxist to repair and maintain the aircraft. He also suggested that they should send 100 Pilot training personnel to teach the Marxist to fly them. He didn’t want to forget to send munitions for the aircraft or they will become useless to the Marxists.

The Dictator like the idea, but how will the Airplanes will land, takeoff, or be stored. Kumar said that let the Marxists decide.

Saddam want to add something to the Infantry weapons. He wanted to send Heavy weapons like Mortars, Artillery, MANPADS, & RPGs. 800,000 155mm Mortars, 200,000 M777 155mm Lightweight Howitzers, 1 million Stinger launchers, & 1 million SMAW RPGs.

Now the Dictator was satisfied that the Marxist will be the best equipped soldiers in the history of Guerrilla Warfare. The Dictator will send the planned weapons every month so the enemy will not be suspicious. All the weapons will not leave any traces that the Romans are helping the Marxist. The Guerrilla leader will decide where the Romans should unload the weapons when the Dictator sends another telegram. More Weapons will be manufactured if the Marxist needs it.

The Dictator ordered his lieutenants after the meeting to call the Roman Republican Military Store Company that they will build these weapons to meet the Dictator’s need for free.

The grand Phoenix designed navy of the Dracun Imperium sailed towards Guadalmobia under the command of the Commander of Armed Forces himself, Kronos Shysa. The fleet would be more then sufficient to deal with any threat that may find their way to the Dracun Fleet. Though the fleet was old and soon to be retired to be replaced by Praetonian warships it would be good for its last mission.

The fleet had its forty CVN-1 Phoenix Class Aircraft Carriers surrounding the Ultra Battle Carrier which had been renamed Mother of Treachery from its former name Legend of the Banes. Then around the carriers were ten Hornet Class Amphibious Assault Carrier who had the protection of the thirty Seahorse attack submarine which protected the thirty Modified Idaho Battleships of the fleet.

Kronos watched from his command chair as the fleet made way to Guadalombia. "Alert the Government we are close by ask for a port"

"Yes sir!"

Fine, If they don't have phones. I'll send'em a note...

*A diplomat arrives at a Rebel Naval base and delivers this letter*

Guadalombian Rebellion Leaders,
The government of The Armed Republic of Crack Worshipers strongly supports your movement to remove the current facist government and bring a more liberal government to your honorable nation. Therefeore I am pleased to tell you that we will be sending 2,500 of our elite M-1 tanks by sea to this base. You can be expecting them in 3 to 4 days.

Best of Luck to You,
G. Rogerson, Supreme Chancellor, Armed Republic of Crack Worshipers

-snip-

OOC: I'd appreciate a little more effort going into your roleplaying in this thread.

OOC:What about my messages?

[OOC: If I wasn't so sick right now I would get into this roleplay, since it looks great, but I really can't write anything good up since I can barely think straight. Regardless, at some point I have the intention of joining this on the side of the government, although I won't be deploying five hundred thousand men - like some guys are doing -, more like five hundred.

What I had in mind was something along the lines of Vietnam, where I start off with special operations, but before I do anything I just wanted to know if you had any problems with me setting up a base in your country - as a base of operations...something like Dien Bien Phu.

I would probably be RPing independently from everybody else, since I really don't know the position of rebel forces and such. It is to say, I would have to make up the location and names of several rebel locations, unless you want to coordinate attacks through telegram and tell me positionings, names and general intelligence - things I would need to know to make attacks.

Well, when I feel better I'll write a roleplay up. Sorry for the long OOC.]

OOC: Ok, even if my messages aren't getting through to the Rebels according to the story, I will still invade in 6 hours as I promised and I will bring 9 other nations with me...tick tock, tick tock,

-encrypting…
-beginning transmission…

From the Guadalombian Department of the Interior
To Harald, son of Gustav, lord of all Bonstocknians

The Enlightened Military Despotism of Guadalombia is pleased to find a rational and sane government not confused by the words and promises of the drug dealers who want control over this fine nation, and gratefully accepts your support in whatever form. The Guadalombian military authority has already set aside a military airbase just outside the town of Florida, 47KM south of the capital city of Puerto Calvo, to be used for your purposes. Upon the arrival of your forces, their commanders will be put in touch with the Guadalombian military and intelligence authorities, and given all necessary information to effectively combat the cancer that is now infecting our land.

Good day,
Arturo Berdugo, Chairman of the Guadalombian Minister of the Interior

Presidential Command Bunker
Port Yuko, Bonstock

"My lord, this message came today," said Colonel Lin as she entered the room with a paper. "It is from Guadalombia."

Lord Harald siezed the paper, and read it over. "Good. Dispatch the troops immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Johan Ackmann Air Force Base
60 miles southeast of Port Yuko

Dozens of C-17s stood ready on the tarmac. They were loaded with soldiers and equipment, of both the Bonstocknian Air Force's 24th Fighter Wing and Army's 1st Brigade, 6th Airborne Division. Two of the most elite units in the Bonstocknian Armed Forces, their very names had been feared by Bonstock's enemies since the country's birth.

I was attached to the Headquarters of 1st Battalion, 1st Brigade, 6th Airborne Division. Though a captain in the Special Forces, they figured I needed some training. A mission, no less. That way, if the Bonstocknian Rebellion ever struck back, I'd be ready. Trouble was, nothing can prepare me to shoot my own people.

I loaded onto the big grey C-17, with all the other men of the 6th Airborne. The battalion commander came up. He looked to be in his fifties, with some grey hair tucked under his beret, which he insisted on wearing in combat, along with his dark sunglasses. His hands were at his hips, and he talked as if he were out of some old western movie. "Captain Williams," he greeted me, "Nice of you to join up."

"Thanks, sir," I said, giving the CO a salute. He gave a chuckle and looked away. I looked around. Fighter jets were already taxiing. F-22s and A-10 Warhogs, with a few B-2 bombers, were just about to fly. I sighed, and took my seat on the plane. Hopefully this wouldn't end badly.

Soon enough, we were off, and in the air.

*watching the airfield, troops get into a choppers as they begin to take off. Most of the pilots begin to get ready, one pilot climbs to the top of his MiG 35 and yells "For Socialism!" another yells "For the Motherland!", another yells "For Bashar!", all of the pilots then yell "For Bashar we shall fight and for Bashar we will win!" The pilots then got in their planes, some were in MiG 35s, others in MiG 31s. Watching this from the balcony, Chairman Bashar Al-Mohamet smiled.*

Bashar: So, it is finally time eh my son?
Rudolfo: Yes father. The Assembly just passed it, we are going to aid the Marxists in Guadalombia. I have sent word to the other Communist Party-led nations. I have recieved confirmation. Ours will be the first army to go in, the other 9 will follow with 4 of them sending larger forces then ours.
Bashar: And they will each take a seperate district of Guadalombia correct?
Rudolfo: Correct, we will be in 10 major districts, each nation is in charge of one, although of course, the military occupation will be more beneficial.
Bashar: Good, are we live?
Camera Man: Almost.

*Bashar sits down at the desk with a portrait of Stalin behind him as the red light and cue hit, he begins to speak*

Bashar Al-Mohamet: "Today, we are dealt a severe hand. As you all know, the Western recognized "government" in Guadalombia is a Fascist one dedicated to destroying the true, Socialist government which controls major portions of the country. In the past, we have never let Fascism spread and defeat the workers rights to democracy and socialism and we will not let that occur. I have watched silently as the Council of State voted on the matter of whether to intervene in the name of Marxism. The Council's vote is a resounding "yes". At the same time, the Councils in Eskvindblair, Prachanda, Afemera, Embroza and Quezadria all voted to stand with us in the campaign that is to follow. Despite my doubts, we must move forward by the will of the people. The Communist Revival Alliance will work together with the Marxist government in Guadalombia to bring Socialism to the country. Our plans are to have the country liberated by the end of the year and to have a vanguard party and Socialist Constitution in place by the end of the following year. Our glorious soldiers are answering the call of freedom right now. Good luck and glory to the People's Army!"

*The Chancellor its in his suite watching the Naval Yard as the final preperations are made to send forces to Guadalombia*

"Sir, we have but 50 tanks to load and then we'll launch on your command." Said Admiral Jamison, leader of the transport's naval escort. "Good Admiral" said the Chancellor. Once the final tanks were loaded into the massive transports the Chancellor (who is in the last year of his term and possibly has his re-election riding on this campagin) descended to the docks where he gave one of the best speaches of his entire political carrer to send off the brave troops to fight for liberal socalist democracy. As the ships slowly dissappered over the horizon the Republic's national anthem was constantly playing until nobody coulkd se the ships.

*3 Days Later*
Once the tanks were unloaded and the Admiral's escort was heading back to the shores of the Republic, command was offically handed over to General McGrady, head of the Republic's "Heavy Vehciles Division" which is envyed throughout the region and world. As the general spoke with Marxist ofiicals over battle-plans troops from many countries were being rallied to bring Democratic Socialism to Guadalombia. Now it has begun.

The New White House Press Room, J City

The Press stood as President Anderson entered the crowded room, preceeded and followed by several Secret Service Agents. The President proceeded to the stand and motioned for those present to sit down, and those that had chairs did so.

Once everybody had been seated the President began his press conference, the first three questions were certainties, but from then on the press were allowed to ask what they wanted to.

A journalist from the J City Tribune stood first, the written press always had the first question.

"Mr President, some disturbing news from Guadalombia as drug lords now seem to be a serious threat to the stability of the government and therefore the region. What is the administrations stance towards the situation, and the ongoing interference by other foreign forces?

The President immeadiately replied to the opening question in his usual relaxed manner.

"Well Scott, as you know we take a very dim view on drugs as a whole as the latest siezure in Gillen has shown. Links with anti-government forces in Guadalombia are being investigated as a possible source of the siezed drugs however we can say nothing for certain at the current time. I will just stand by our announcement that elements of the fifth fleet will be moving closer to the area to monitor the ongoing situation. Obviously the interference of certain nations in conducting anti-government operations, or supplying anti-government forces will not be tolerated by the USIH."

The reported stood, and television cameras sent the pictures across the world. One of the places that was recieving the feed was the officers wardroom of IHS Peacekeeper , an Isomer Class Carrier and current flagship of Task Force Twelve, one of the principle striking arms of the IH 5th Fleet.

The carrier, along with its sister ship IHS Conquerer and a pair of Nimitz Class Carriers were sailing at a fleet speed of 27knots in the direction of the Guadalombia region. Every couple of hours the fleet carriers would speed up and conduct air operations to replace the standing BARCAP of F-22S Sea Raptors that orbited over the formation. All radars from the force were switched on and were operating at full power, giving the formation a good picture of the ocean around it, but also informing others of its location.

About 25 nautical miles infront of the fleet's outer sonar pickets a pair of Los Angeles Class 688I Attack Submarines were a forward screening force. If all went well they would be in position to detach from the carrier force in just under two days time, when Vice-Admiral Raymond Jackson would turn his force to sail parallel to the coast of Guadalombia about 40 miles from the International Water/territorial water boundary. The two submarines would slow and allow the Task Force to pass over them and then take up positions to the ocean side of it, guarding against any possible unfriendly action.

(OOC: Sorry for the delay in IC posting, I've been pretty busy lately.

Crack Worshippers, don't bother to post anymore in this thread. As I mentioned earlier, absolutely no effort is going into your posts, and how your fleets managed to magically sail through naval patrols and land tanks on my shores, God only knows. Consider yourself excuded and ignored.

Karuchea, I'm sick of your OOC threats and telegrams. I have a bad feeling you're going to be one of those people who RPs to win instead of to entertain. Knock off the OOC business and just RP.

Macabees, that's fine. I'll send you the intel you need over TG.

Everyone else, looking good! I'll get to responding IC immediately.

One last note, I'll only be accepting one more participant on each side before this is closed off. Anyone that has posted in this thread at this time is considered a participant.)

OOC: Well, thanks to the idiots at our ISP, my Internet at home is down, and they apparently won't be able to bring it back up until sometime tomorrow. I'm actually posting this message from an Apple Store, on a real nice Mac...anyways, I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow, so I might be a bit delirious from the anaesthetics and such for a while. We'll see how I am tomorrow, and whether or not I'll be back here.

The government of Manhattan Prime will not be able to dispatch military troops at the present moment, but we would happily give President Calvo any economic assistance he may need.

OOC: Thanks Guadalombia! Might send some troops a bit later, but I haven't got much of a military at the moment, so it would probably only be a division or two. Have you got a map of your country we can use?

President Calvo’s Officer, Presidential Palace, Puerto Calvo

“Your Excellency, Karu-“

“They want war with Guadalombia, they shall have war with Guadalombia.”

“Your Excellency, if I may, our forces have been faring well in the revitalized campaign in the south. Reports are coming in detailing over 2,100 rebel dead.”

“It isn’t enough. We should have over 20,000 dead by now!”

Calvo slammed his hands onto his desk, sending a porcelain vase over the edge. Defense Minister Nembro leapt forward, catching it just before it shattered into a million pieces. Calvo scowled.

“Call up the reserves. We shall need every able man ready to defend my land if the foreigners make good on their threats.”

The door suddenly swung inward, and a frantic looking lieutenant rushed in, offering a bow to Calvo and hasty salute to the Defense Minister. Calvo, already irritated, shouted vengefully at the intruder.

“What is this?!”

“Sir, I-I apologize si- er, your Excellency, but I have news.”

“Then stop babbling and give it to me!”

“Sir, the Karucheans have mobilized. They have dispatched elements of their air force to Guadalombia!”

“They move sooner than I thought, Marxist bastards. Nembro, send word, put the air force and the navy on alert. We will blow them out of the sky.”

“Immediately, your Excellency.”

“They trifle with me and my land, and they shall pay dearly for it. Leninist whores.”

-----------

In Puerto Calvo, the call was going out. Columns of green uniformed soldiers marched down the highways and narrow backstreets while nervous civilians watched from the windows of their homes. Mig-31s and F-16s of the Guadalombian national air force rocketed over the jungles and the shores of the nation of the President General. The sparse ships of the Guadalombian navy ran patrols on the edge of Guadalombian territorial waters, scanning for approaching foreign aircraft and vessels.

The reserves were being called out, and at the end of the mobilization, Calvo hoped to have one million men ready to stave off an invasion. He knew however, that such a mobilization could not be sustained for long, and so a quick victory was necessary. He could not afford a long drawn out campaign.

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

The Press Room, Presidential Palace, Guadalombia

A white uniformed Defense Minister Nembro shuffled nervously offstage as he waited for the cue to enter the room full of both foreign journalists and Guadalombian state press reporters. He received a thumbs up from one of the cameramen, and adjusted his cap for the last time before walking out into the room, a controlled smile on his face. Flashes filled the room and he was bombarded with questions as he stepped up to the podium.

“People of Guadalombia, and members of the foreign press, I thank you on behalf of President General Calvo for being here. As you are aware, the President General and the government of Guadalombia have recently been forced, by way of hostile action on behalf of the nation of Karuchea, to call a complete mobilization of the Guadalombian armed forces in order to stave off this threat.

We are also aware that other, less enlightened nations have openly declared support for the Marxist rebel terrorists who infest our land to the south, and I would like once again to remind the world that these men are not the noble freedom fighters that they may like to see them as. They are dirty, violent, drug peddling scum, who would like nothing more than to get their hands on the reigns to our great nation so they could turn it into the world’s largest narcotic and illegal arms bazaar at the expense of her people and the safety and stability of the international community. President General Calvo has also asked me to remind the world that his recent invigorated campaign against them and their supporters in the south is entirely in the interests of this nation and her friends abroad.”

As the Defense Minister finished speaking, he was nailed by a question from a young female Guadalombian reporter.

“Defense Minister Nembro, is it true that the government of Independent Hitmen has a fleet en route to Guadalombian territorial waters?”

Nembro’s neck was beginning to prickle with sweat under the hot lights.

“Yes, yes this is true. The government recognizes the destabilizing nature of drug and blood money fuelled rebel groups such as the APLG and FALG, and has deployed a fleet to dissuade foreign nations from sending supplies to the guerrillas. Next question.”

A young man, apparently foreign, asked the next question.

“Is it also true that Bonstocknian death squads have been deployed in Guadalombian territory?”

“No, this is not the case. Bonstock has deployed a unit of peacekeepers to aid us in defending the reign of President General Calv-”

Nembro was cut off by a shrill voiced journalist whose accent he could not place.

“There are rumors that soldier from Red Tide have been deployed to government controlled airbases near the border of FALG controlled zones. What can you tell us about this?”

“Yes, President General Calvo has also authorized the deployment of Red Tide soldiers to assist our own forces in peacekeeping efforts. I am afraid these are all the questions I have time to answer. Thank you very much for coming. The President General has also asked that I strongly suggest all foreign reporters and civilians make plans to leave the country as soon as possible before the arrival of Karuchean combat forces. Again, thank you, good night.”

Nembro walked offstage, relieved to have it over with.

(OOC: I'm making a map as we speak. I'll post it here when it's done.)

The grand Phoenix designed navy of the Dracun Imperium sailed towards Guadalmobia under the command of the Commander of Armed Forces himself, Kronos Shysa. The fleet would be more then sufficient to deal with any threat that may find their way to the Dracun Fleet. Though the fleet was old and soon to be retired to be replaced by Praetonian warships it would be good for its last mission.

The fleet had its forty CVN-1 Phoenix Class Aircraft Carriers surrounding the Ultra Battle Carrier which had been renamed Mother of Treachery from its former name Legend of the Banes. Then around the carriers were ten Hornet Class Amphibious Assault Carrier who had the protection of the thirty Seahorse attack submarine which protected the thirty Modified Idaho Battleships of the fleet.

Kronos watched from his command chair as the fleet made way to Guadalombia. "Alert the Government we are close by ask for a port"

"Yes sir!"

Admiral Felipe Antillano watched the calm green seas from the bridge of his destroyer, the GNS Ciro. He was interrupted by the call of a junior officer.

“Admiral, we’re receiving a transmission from the Mother of Treachery. She’s requesting a port.”

“Who does she belong to?”

“The Dracun Imperium, sir.”

“Alright, direct her to Alejandro.”

The first K-10 Cargo Plane carrying the first equipment of the 4th Mechanized-Infantry Division. The plane taxied to a predetermined unloading point to let other planes unload their cargo. The APC-45s and LBT-64s rolled off the back ramp to the cargo hangar and began moving them to a pre-determined equipment depot. The next plane down was a K-11, the same size and design as the K-10s but used to transport troops instead of eqiupment(hence the seats instead of large empty spaces in the area the cargobay was supposed to be). The soldiers exited the planes and began to form up into their squads, which formed up into companies, which formed up into battalions... VERY efficiently. The planes alternated between K-10s and K-11s. Finally the last plane down was a K-5B, a small yet fast cargo plane used for rapid deployment of single battalions of airborne troops... but that was the A version. The B Version was used to ferry around commanders above the rank of Regimental General(the equivalent to a Brigadier General(since Red Tide has no Brigades in its unit structure) and their staffs.

The Divisonal General(equivalent of a 2 star general) came off first, then the 5 Regimental Generals(one for each regiment), then the Colonels. Those two were distingiushable from the rest of their staff by the fact that they didnt wear those wierd electronic collars around their necks that EVERY freaking person at the rank of Major down wore. The rest of the command stafff ferried out. By nightfall the division had already settled in.

Tagged this thread has been.

--Yoda

http://usera.imagecave.com/mobrule132001/Guadalombia-map.bmp.jpg

Map of Guadalombia. Hope it's helpful.

The small carrier battle group, one of dozens based off the five larger naval fleets which formed the nexus of the Golden Throne's Kriegsmarine, moved through the waves forming off at least eight hundred nautical miles from Guadalombia. At first, the mission of the battle group, dubbed Battle Group Tango, was to keep its eyes peeled for Marxist activity inside and outside of the subject country, but with things become more and more international within the walls of Guadalombia it seemed as if the Golden Throne would not be allowed to just sit as a bystander to the war.

Indeed, although it seemed as if the Calvo regime had enough international support to destroy any left wing base in the country, despite the rather major intervention from Karuchea, the Empire was continously pushed further and further into Guadalombian politics. It seemed as if Guadalombia was to become another Colombia, or perhaps even a Vietnam, and although the prospects of that didn't seem all to good to the untrained eye, in all reality, it was just what the Second Empire needed. After the sinking of the Five Civilized Nation's submarine off the coast of Targul Frumos years before the military of the Empire had wounded into disrepair and it was only recently that a revamp of the armed forces was ordered by Emperor Jonach I and the Chief of Staff. In that spirit, Guadalombia seemed like the perfect quagmire to entrench some men in and get the military up to speed.

In that spirit, before departure for ELINT operations around Guadalombia, Battle Group Tango's sole Indestructable class Aircraft Carrier was given a load out of not a single fighter aircraft and not a single ground attack aircraft, although that would soon change with the arrival of the rest of Carrier Task Force Dagger, which had a full four battle groups to add to Tango. Instead, the HES Alhambra was given ten small transport aircraft, capable of carrying thirty men each, in accomodations fit for the CEO of Microsoft.

The plan was for Task Force Tango to insert three hundred fully armed, and very well trained, special operatives into the jungles of Guadalombia and do their mayhem. While the inserted men dug out their new hotels into the Guadalombian dirt Carrier Task Force Dagger (CTF-D) would make its way one hundred knots off the coast of Guadalombia and with the aid of those operatives, cause destruction into the ranks of the Marxist rebels, and any Marxist foreign intervention - all of this, as clandestinely as possible.

With all of this engrained into his head, Admiral Hans Drebbels took another drag from his long Black and Mild, imported straight from the coasts of The Island of Rose - perhaps, that's where it got its name from. He looked out from the bridge of the Alhambra, somewhere he didn't reside on much, preferring the damper, but safer, halls of his armored command and control room downstairs. He took the cigar out of his mouth and took the communications radio beside him and spoke with a Texan slur,"Aight, get these puppy dogs ready, and let's get this show on the road."

The decks were rabid with movement black figures, the operatives, moved up and down the concrete runways to their respective transports. They were lean, mean, and with their high powered sniper rifles, grenades, assault rifle, and the rest of the nine yards, they were killing machines. In fact, they were the cream of the crop in the Werhmacht of the Golden Throne.

They got into their aircraft without much further adue, and within seconds the jet engines on each of the small transport planes began to whine as the frames of the jets began to roll into position. Flight deck management began to hook up the catapult launching ropes onto the hastily applied rings on the bottom of the aircraft's rear end, since these particuliar transports weren't designed to fly off carriers, and with seconds the planes were rolling towards the end of the deck. Five minutes later all ten civilian produced transport aircraft were in the air, making their way towards the hills and trees of Guadalombia.

Inside the lead aircraft Major Krebs von Seelow, son of the vaunted General der Panzertruppen Albrecht von Seelow, took a look at the other twenty-nine men around him. It was incredibly silent for the beginnins of an operation. During training jumps the men talked to keep each other from busting a nerve, but today everyone seemed quiet - perhaps because it was everybody's first combat jump into actual combat. The major spoke up,"We have a long flight ahead of us ladies. Two hours at least. Better make the best of it."

[OOC: Yea, I'm sick, so my RP sorta sucks. My fleet just appeared there, but I found it more interesting if I just started from this point in time, since my fleet would have arrived uncontested anyways.]

Real, Rebel Stronghold, Southern Coast of Guadalombia, 0400 Hours G(uadalombian)ST

The warm lapping of the dark sea against the stone sides of the port was a relaxing sound to deaden the senses of any unaware of the business going on in these dockyards at this early morning. The pre-dawn dark was cold, at least by the standards of a Guadalombian used to the steamy oppression of the jungle heat, but not cold enough to slow the muscles of the dark silhouettes at work. In the gloom, one could just make out the insignias on green camouflage fatigues or the blood red of the bandanna ties beneath the glow of an electric lamp.

Under the watchful eyes of elite FALG guerilla fighters and the barrels of their AK-47s, wage slaves, men and women sometimes as young as twelve, shuffled across the dock, loading small brown bricks into larger wooden crates, which were in turn loaded by forklift into a large cargo freighter, the Antigua. In the dark, a young boy, tired from working since 8PM the night before, tripped over a coiled rope, and fell hard to the ground, dropping the bricks. As they hit the concrete, one of the bricks split open, and white powder poured out. As the boy watched in horror at the lost merchandise, a boot slammed into his side, forcing him over, whereupon he found himself staring up at a ferocious looking soldier, his mouth covered by a red cloth.

“You fucking weasel! Do you know how important this is?”

He held up one of the dropped packages, this one unharmed by the fall, and hurled it at the boy.

“Idiot! It’s weasels like you that will sink our cause.”

The soldier kicked the child in the face, rolling him over once again.

“Now get back to work, and don’t spill anymore!”

The child, fear in his eyes, scrambled back to his feet, and went about picking up the bricklike packages.

In an office overlooking the dockyards, a man clad in a uniform slightly cleaner than that of the others’ puffed on a cigar as he reclined in a swivel chair, watching the goings on below. His face was invisible in the gloom, the only light source in the office a small naked lightbulb swinging freely as an electric fan blew side to side on a ruined desk.

“General Nacion, they’ve nearly finished loading.”

The man spun around in the chair, facing the grim faced bearded guerilla fighter standing in front of him.

“Good. Don Estasio will be happy to know his shipment was protected, and soon enough he’ll be sending us the ammunition.”

“Sir, I am afraid I have terrible news. We have just received word that Don Estasio was executed by the fascist’s death squadron.”

“Damnit! Are you certain this is reliable?”

“Sir, one of our liaisons saw the soldiers storm his villa. No one survived.”

Nacion clenched his teeth in an effort to control his rage, finally slamming his clenched fist into the desk. The old wood gave way, and the General removed a blood soaked hand, splinters protruding. He roared in frustration and agony, as the younger officer fumbled for a rag to wipe away the blood.

“Do you know the status of Estasio’s shipment? Where did he keep the ammunition?”

“Not in his villa, General. He had a warehouse in the jungle, near Florida if I recall. The supplies should still be there if I am correct.”

“Fine, send a unit to recover what we can before the fascist’s soldiers get there.”

“Of course, General. Sir, I trust you also have heard news of the help arriving from abroad?”

“Yes. It is excellent news. Our campaign will see new vigor with this aid, and soon enough, the liberationist armies of the FALG will parade through Puerto Calvo.”

The General finished tying the rag around his hand, clenching and unclenching it in the air a few times to check for more serious damage.

“I promised myself eighteen years ago that I would be the first to topple his statue in the capital. I feel that time is drawing closer, Major. Soon, his time will have passed, and our era will begin. An era of free socialism with my hand on the helm of the nation.”

“What an age we shall see then.”

“Indeed, Major. What an age.”

The dark outline of the moving aircraft seemed to give some foreshadowing of the events come, even as the jungles below seemed perfectly still. Inside the aircrafts the dim corridors revealed the faces of men not ready to die, but ready to fight. They were all young, and in their black garb, painted faces, and with rifles in hand, they lost all sense of innocense.

Major von Seelow took another look at the red light beside his head and then turned back to his men. Suddenly a thud could be heard from the other side of the door, where the cockpit was located, and von Seelow put his ear against the wall, only to hear,"Ready up your men Major. ETA is about two minutes and counting."

The major nodded and turned back to the twenty-nine soldiers sitting before him,"Alright men, ready up!"

Lathargically the team hooked up to the cable line lining through the center of the ceiling of the small jet aircraft, and from last to first they went through the usual pre-drop routine of checking up,"Thirty, check...twenty-nine, check..." all the way to,"...two, check."

Von Seelow smiled, his men were ready for anything and hit the pilot's door and screamed,"One, check!"

The red light immediately turned bright green, giving the major a thumbs up to begin jumping procedures. He kept his left hand on the latch, which was firmly guided by the thin cable line on top, and he opened the steel door laterally, revealing a thick Guadalombian wind, and the even thicker jungles below. They were probably only two thousand or so feet above the surface of the ground since the planes were ordered to stay low in case these rebels turned out to have some sort of RADAR. The Empire didn't need three hundred men dead before they even touched the ground, if such a debacle happened the military would never be able to get back up on its feet.

The major smiled again - they were ready - and he jumped out, without a warning. The latch slid off the end of the cable line and he was let loose into the night sky, keeping quiet the rest of the way down. It was a short jump, consequently, within seconds the automated stop watch, dangling from the side of his hip, sent an electronic pulse to the back of his pack, which subsequently released the primary chute. The sturdy material was as black as his clothing, and consequently, gave no hint of existance within the night sky. Indeed, the major couldn't even see the rest of his stick as they came dropping down, as slowly as he was - the only reason he knew they were behind him was because those were orders, and that's how they trained.

He looked down as his feet first hit the top of the treeline, and he grimaced. It hurt at first, but with the force he was going down with, he pushed right past it, and soon began to hit branches, and finally he hit pure dirt. His white teeth showed in the pitch ebony night as he clenched them from the pain - jungle landings were not his speciality - even in Vietnam they were accustomed to dropping on something that had been previously blasted with Agent Orange. He heard the grunts of felow soldiers behind him, and the occasional,"Shit."

However, he had no time to waste with petty pains, and he untangled his chute and lefting it resting beside him. Grabbing his Hali-21 assault rifle he motioned to his stick to gather near him. Quickly they moved into position and von Seelow dropped his gun onto the floor, and in its stead took out a low power flashlight. In his left hand he took a map of the area, and he gave the brief, quick and without incident. Each of the ten sticks had their orders, and within four hours the entire force would be under his command, but for the first four hours or so, every individual unit was on its own.

He spoke quickly, leaving no room for questions,"Alright, we've dropped about two klicks west of Florida, a rather large town in the middle of an even larger jungle. Intelligence says that this is a rebel powerhouse, and sattelite imagery even caught a few illegal transactions going on here, although we've preferred to keep that quiet from the Calvo regime, in case they decide to show up too and ruin our little quiet party. We're moving out immediately. Sorry, no sleepy time for you blokes. All three hundred of us are moving east, towards Florida, and we're going to occupy that town until Calvo's cavalry arrives and takes over for us. We're using Florida as a two day rest stop. Dagger is going to drop foodstuffs on our head while we stay in Florida, and maybe a few more men. From there on out, however, we're going purely mercenary. Boys, we're considered the weed whackers in this neighborhood."

With that the entire stick moved out, heading east, keeping low and almost silent as they trecked through the jungles west of Florida. Besiden von Seelow, Sergeant Franch spoke up,"Last time I heard of Florida was when the hot babes roamed the beaches. This ain't paradise in my book."

A few muffled laughs could be heard from all over and even the major gave a smirk. Von Seelow turned and retorted,"Yea well, I'm sure this God forsaken island has some sort of ass on it."

The rest of march was a bit more tranquil and just as uneventful, but regardless, von Seelow gave out a short breath as he saw lights up ahead. He flashed a few hand signals to the men around him, and then the entire team went prone and spread out. The major looked at his watch. They shouldn't have reached it so fast, they must have taken a wrong turn, and it must have turned out to be a shorter route. Or more likely, they had stumbled upon something a bit more interesting.

The major took out his infra-red binoculars from his inside breast pocket inside the custom black army jacket and put them against his eyes. He licked his lips as he went over the prize and whispered,"Looks like a warehouse of some sorts. This wasn't on the map when I last checked."

The soldier lying next to him leaned in closer and asked,"You sure it ain't just a village?"

von Seelow pulled away the binoculars and took out the map again, taking a look at the square in which they were in,"Negative. Nothing marked here. Seems Calvo had no clue this was here."

He passed it through his head again. If he decided to scout around, and even hit it, he would jeoperdize the occupation of Florida, but this could be something large. If he didn't do anything, and just went around it, this could very well be a thorn in his side for the inevitable taking of Florida, and it could be something even larger than Florida. He decided for a much more "proffessional" option.

He motioned for his radioman to come in close, who did, and he whispered,"Take out the laptop."

While the radioman did as told, setting up the sattelite signal and such, von Seelow moved in closer to the warehouse - about four meters or so, and flashed a few hand signals to the stick's designated marksman - one of three. The man, a Private first Class Leopold Reffer, nodded and pinned the butt of his high powered sniper rifle onto his shoulder blade and squinted through the sites of the black rifle. The radioman gave a thumbs up and von Seelow flashed another hand signal to Reffer, who pulled the trigger. Nothing seemed to happen, but von Seelow wasn't staying around to if anything did. He quickly began to sweep his arms back and then foward, and the entire stick began moving back, keeping up a fairly rapid pace.

Suddenly, a high whine portruded from the sky, and a red streak, with the occasional burn of orange and blue, screamed in towards the warehouse's location. Within seconds an explosion thudded throughout the area, shaking the trees and shrubbery all around. Two more of the same explosions ripped apart the warehouse, and for about two minutes the ground shook.

von Seelow smiled and turned to Reffer,"Good job painting that target." He turned back to the radioman and said,"Tell them they did a good job."

Second later the shelling ended, leaving nothing but charred remains of the warehouse, and few screams from the inside. von Seelow nodded to another soldier and said,"You're on point. Take us around this mess. Calvo's militias have been told of what was here, they'll take care of this mess first light. We're moving on to Florida."

[OOC: I thought I would make it interesting for your rebel forces once they arrived at the warehouse, and found it smoldering. I don't think that the shelling would have destroyed much of the goods, just warned the government's armies, and shaken things up a bit.]

Dawn’s first light crept across the treeline as the green military trucks rumbled through the worn jungle road towards the location of the secret warehouse where Don Estasio had stored his merchandise. Seeing the thick black smoke against the sky, the driver of the leading truck came to a sudden halt. Rebel soldiers jumped from the backs of the trucks, confused and frantic. The trucks began moving again, as footsoldiers went ahead to see what had happened.

The entire warehouse compound had been leveled near completely, smouldering foundations glowing with the charred embers that represented the remains of a once large storage facility. The detonation of ammunition had complemented the bombs, causing the destruction of the primary storage areas, and killing all of Don Estasio’s men left to guard the facility.

The militia looked on, dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Their commanders began shouting for them to search the rubble in an attempt to salvage what they could, but it would be of little use.

Then a sound came over the treetops that sent icy shivers down the spines of the rebel soldiers: the whir of rotor blades against the calm of the dawn. Knowing what awaited those who remained in the open, the rebel soldiers dived for cover as helicopter gunships came over the clearing. Door guns blazed as government response soldiers sawed away with streams of lead at the rebel soldiers below. Government forces at the nearby airbase had heard and seen the explosion, and response teams had been dispatched to check it out. The rebels had been out of luck.

Those who survived the initial pass scrambled back into the cover of the trees, abandoning the trucks, and squeezing off a few bursts at the helicopters as they fled. They would be going back empty handed, much to the dismay of General Nacion, and the delight of Defense Minister Nembro.

Forward Deployed Airbase Foxtrot
about 50 miles south of Peurto Calvo

By now, most of the Bonstocknian C-17s had managed to land, and unload their troops and equipment at the airbase that Guadalombia had given them. Codenamed Foxtrot base, it would be Bonstock's forward base to counter the druglords and commies.

Lord Harald had watched the press confrences. "Death squads," as some Guadalombian journalists had referred to the Bonstocknians, was politically incorrect, but in reality perhaps the best term to use. But these boys wern't in this for the blood. Most just wanted to serve their time before they could get back home. This deployment was supposed to be temporary.

Whatever the case, activity was buzzing at the new base. Patrols of Kiowa and Apache helicopters buzzed around the base, and convoys of four armed Humvees apiece started patrolling the countryside, looking for an enemy to fight. The paratroopers were getting jittery at the base. Manning bunkers around it or sitting in their barracks, they began to clutch their weapons with a new fervor. Soon they'd recieve their baptism of fire.

IHS Peacekeeper, about 65 nautical miles South of Puerto Esperanza


The Task Force had recently arrived on station, and was now patrolling its given zone that ran virtually the entire length of the island nation. They were currently heading into the rising sun, and dawn signalled the launching of more aircraft to supplement the BARCAP.

First to launch from the forward catapults were a pair of E-2CI Airbourne Radar aircraft, followed by a quad of F-22S each from Peacekeeper and Conquerer. The three Nimitz Class, Gillen, J City and Christopher D. Anderson each had a squadron of F-14E Super Tomcats fully loaded for Air to Air, on the two forward catapults. The third catapult had an E-A6B Prowler AEW aircraft that was configured as a tanker, and these were launched and recovered ever hour to top off the tanks of the interceptors already aloft over the formation.



On the escorts the radars were still powered up, and blasting any possible contacts that were detected in co-ordination with the E-2CI that were orbiting but using their passive detection abilities, with their main radars energized and ready for use.

The radar operators noticed the increase in the amount of air traffic coming out of the international airports that satellite tracking told them the country had. Several had come near enough to the formation to warrant being lit up in target mode, and then having a pair of interceptors "guide" them away from the formation. This "guiding" usually involved one aircraft flying alongside the passenger plane with its target radar lit up whilst the other settled into a flight about ten metres infront of the cockpit until the aircraft turned in the desired direction. The fighter aircraft were not divulging their nationality, and so an international incident was unlikely. Admiral Jacksons fighters had been ordered to "splash" any airliner that did not turn once it had passed the outer picket lines.

The same was true of surface contacts, any that appeared to be heading for the task force were lit up on radar, and if they continued once warnings had been sent to them a pair of frigates would dart out of the picket line and approach them, at least that was the theory, so far nobody had attempted to run that.

Meanwhile a pair of Kidd Class Destroyers had moved away from the main task force, and were preparing to take part in a drugs interdiction mission along with a pair of E-2CI's from the carrier Peacekeeper that would be monitoring surface contacts whilst the two destroyers kept their radars off so as to not alert any possible smugglers to their presence.


OOC: I was thinking maybe an interdiction of that drug shipment with possibly finding documentation linking it as a shipment to the USIH, if that doesnt fit into a RP structure that you have I can find something else for them to do.

OOC: I was thinking maybe an interdiction of that drug shipment with possibly finding documentation linking it as a shipment to the USIH, if that doesnt fit into a RP structure that you have I can find something else for them to do.

OOC: An interdiction sounds good. Go for it.

IHS Peacekeeper, 65 Nautical Miles South of Real

Vice-Admiral Jackson had just returned to the CIC from his private head near to the bridge wing. As he walked past the marine on guard at the door, and through the watertight and armoured bulkhead door, a radar controller shouted to him.

" Admiral Sir, Hawk-Four reports a large surface contact moving away from an unknown location on the Island. Group Interdict is requesting permission to move to engage and start a boarding mission to determine cargo and destination."

Admiral Jackson took his seat and pondered for a second before replying.

" Very well. Tell them to conduct the search with the utmost care, but not to leave any part of the vessel untouched. They are to proceed with the standing rules of engagement. "

"Very well Sir."

The controller turned to the cheif petty officer and nodded. The cheif immeadiately began trasmitting the instructions to the Group Interdict commanded by Captain John Hewerk on the destroyer IHS Ramsay.


That destroyer was slicing its way through the seas at a speed of 32 knots with the second destroyer, IHS Donald a bare hundred yars to the staboard of it. They were slightly further in nearer the coast and were now turning to bring themselves closer to the border line with international waters.

Hawk Four was above them and was tracking the large surface contact that was now moving out to sea and sending the destroyers on an intercept course whilst Hawk Seven was tracking airbourne targets. They had deployed without knowledge of any possible rebel aircraft, adn satellite re-tasking was taking longer than expected due to several faults that had developed with a pair of KH-11 recon birds. A shuttle was preparing on the pad at Garry Peterson Air Force Base to fix them though, but while that was happening and backup satellites were being brought into place the task force was vulnerable to the unknown.


Nearly half an hour later the two destroyers each launched a pair of SH-60 Seahawk's configured in the gunship role but packed with ten special operators each. The ship was now just over the visible hoziron from the two destroyers which were now at full speed of 34knots after launch of their helicopters. On the deck of Ramsay several Special Operation Inflatable assualt boats were being made ready for the search of the vessel.


The two helicopters took a deceptive path towards the Antigua, and appeared from the East rather from the South where the destroyers were heading from. The SPS-55I Surface Sweep radars on the latter now had the large freighter on scope and changed course slightly and split up to a distance of three hundred yards. The two helicopters meanwhile armed their minguns and rocket pods and the crew chiefs gripped their M60's and cocked them, loading live rounds into the breaches. The choppers now came down to barely above wave height and approached the ship at just over 110knots.

Inside the Special operators also cocked their weapons and then hit the safety catches. They carried a mixture of M4A1 Assualt Rifles and MP5A5 Submachine guns, one man on each helicopter carried an M249 with an MP5K as a secondary weapon.

As the helicopters approached the ship, the lead pilot keyed in his radio to a clear frequency that should be monitored by the ships radio room.

"Unknown cargo vessel, this is Independent Hitmen Naval Aircraft India-three, you are to shut down power to your vessel and prepare to be boarded to seach for illegal contraband."

There was no response, and so the pilot tried a second and third time, but still the ship continued. The helicopters slowed slightly as the co-pilots of each scanned the ship with their binoculars whilst the crew chiefs aimed their weapons. The pilot of India-Three reported the non-compliance to Ramsay, which was now in sight and heading in.

When the ships were now within five miles of each other, the lead 5 inch guns on both destroyers began tracking infront of the freighter, which now appeared to be trying to run from them.

Captain Hewerk smiled slightly on the bridge of Ramsay, his preference to the CIC at the moment, and picked up the overhead phone, pressing the button for the gunnery officer.

"Gunny, put a round over the ship please, close enough for them to feel it."

"Aye Aye Skipper" came the response from the radar station behind the forward turret.

The turret turned slightly and the barrel rose to the appropriate azimuth and then with a dull "pop" the 5 inch shell began its journey towards the water two hundred yards behind the cargo ship. Several seconds and a dull shriek later it arrived and sent a plume of water into the air behind the vessel, but it continued going, the destroyers rapidly closing the gap with it.

They fired again, this time shells from both destroyers shrieked in, landing a hundred yards either side of the ship, but still she continued.

Captain Hewerk shrugged in his old and battered leather chair on Ramsay, and ordered the gunships to spray the bridge of the ship with small arms fire and then land their complement of Special Operators on the forward deck.

This they did, two M60's rattled and the glass on the bridge was shattered, killing two of the bridge crew in the process. This generated a response as several more crewmen below grabbed their AK-47's and headed for the deck.

Three of them came out of a forward hatch near where the helicopters were planning to put down their troops. India-Three was just coming in over the bows of the ship to prepare to touch down when they began firing. The kevlar plating and the inaccuracy of the rifles meant that not many of the bullets actually pierced the airframe. One of those that did made contact with one of the chiefs arms, spraying blood onto the cieling of the helicopter and breaking the arm in two places. As the chief fell back into a Special Operator, India-Four swept in, miniguns blazing at the vessel.

Two of the men with AK's were cut to pieces, the third taking a slug that blew off most of his right leg from the knee down and left him writhing on the deck. The mingun slugs continued the length of the deck, ripping up metal shards and pieces of wood, and then reaching their way up the bridge adding yet more bodies to the two already there, including the Captain of the ship who fell onto the ships rudder control, turning the wheel fully right before collapsing to the floor, head burst open like a mellon and oozing brain matter onto the dirty deck floor.


With the three men now down on the forward deck, India-Three restarted her approach run, the pilot skillfully putting her down on the rapidly turning deck as the Special Operators scrambled out.

They were clad in all black including balaclavas, and moved skillfully and quickly along the ship. They secured the deck and India-Four landed and put her contingent in, then taking up a protective circle around the ship with India-Three. One team of Special Operators moved quickly into the pilot house and up the stairs to the bridge, arriving to find the floor slick with blood and other parts of human bodies. Two men covered them, just incase anybody had survived, whilst the team reversed the rudder, and shut off the engines. The latter was only achieved by a burst of gunfire into the main controls and the ship shuddered slightly as it slowed to a dead stop in the water. The other team had meanwhile secured all of the visible hatches to the lower decks and were awaiting the arrival of the rest of the team.

As the ship, the assualt boats carrying the rest of the Special Operators moved quickly in, depositing them on the ladder at the rear of the ship. Within two minutes a further twenty Operators were on board and they began moving to the pilot house, this time heading down into the bowels of the ship. They now moved cautiously, searching every door that they found. One man appeared from a hatch and fired a pistol several times in their direction and was taken down by a single shot from the lead man's M4 that impacted the sailors chest flinging him backwards into a bulkhead. As they passed by, one of the team fired another round into the sailors head at point blank range to ensure that he would not trouble them any further.

Moving through the crew compartments they found the XO of the ship, drunk and possibly high in his cabin. He was gagged and had his hands tied behind his back, only to be dragged by one of the operators as they continued through the ship.

Ten minutes later the ship was declared clear. There were seven surviving crewmen and they were on deck, all gagged with their hands tied behind their back and legs securely bound.

The Operator commander, Captain Jack Temple, stood with his balaclava on with his team leaders, scanning the ships manifest. This team had been a counter-drug one before being flown out to one of the carriers the previous day for this mission, and so they knew what to look for.

"Jenkins, Holzgrefe check out these containers that were loaded last. Take Team three as security incase there are any of these monkeys left aboard. Team two Secure topsides, One find me the destination folder for this rust bucket.

He flicked his microphone switch on and then off for the last two commands before turning back to the prisoners. With his large forearms he picked up the XO, and pulled him toward the side of the vessel, and as he got there he lifted the man up and flung him over the side. He hit the water with a loud splash that was audible to the other crewmen still on deck, however they did not hear the Navy Crewmen on the assualt boat below lift him out of the water and into their inflatable.

The rest visibly trembled as they thought of their watery grave that may await if this tall well built foreigner decided so. However they were saved from his unusual method of removing them from their vessel when his earpiece started talking.

" Sir, you won't believe this."

"Try me Elf" replied the commander.

" Well Sir, this here ship is heading for none other than the proud city of Port Haven."

"Port Haven?........ Port Haven as in the home of the 5th IH Fleet, Port Haven?"

"The very same Sir"

"Well we had better fucking find something on this floating scrapyard or we are for the highjump. Holzgrefe what have you got?"

At one of the containers that had been been loaded under the eyes of the General, Specialist Holzgrefe removed his combat knife from a brick, watching the blade come out white as he did so. Once he removed it fully he keyed his radio to answer.

"Only about seven tonnes of Guadalombia's finest Sir. Looks like our balls are safe for the while."

The first Red Tidean patrol went out, Red Tide Military doctrine said that when moving in columns or on patrol, command elements of a Squad/Company/Battalion/Patrols must be in the center and protected by the heaviest weapons. Therefore the APC-45s(some armed with Guided Missiles(Anti-Air and Anti-Tank), some with 61mm light mortars, all armed with their dual 23mm rapid firing FLAK cannons) rolled out first, The LBT-64s(the heavies of the battalion) escorted a single APC-45B(distingiushable by its radio attanae) in the center of the patrol column. The plan was to sweep the Rebel controlled territory nearby, yet stay within range of the stationary 203mm and self-propelled 175mm(which were set-up back at the base).

“What the fuck do you mean it’s gone?”

General Nacion screamed into the phone, slamming his already damaged fist into the desk, crunching another whole straight through.

“It’s gone boss. The whole warehouse is leveled. Looks like the government bombed the place.”

“Bombed it!? How the fuck can they bomb it if they don’t know where it is!”

“I dunno boss, but it’ sure as hell no here anymore.”

Nacion rubbed his eyes and inhaled heavily, trying to control his building anger.

“Alright, bring the rest of the men and the trucks to the base. I’ll meet you there.”

“Boss, there’s no men or trucks anymore. The government ambushed us, with helicopters. They killed everyone except me and José, and a couple others. They blew up the trucks too.”

Nacion calmly placed the phone back on the hook, and began breathing heavily. Suddenly, he leapt from his chair and let out a roar that could be heard by the workers in the docks below.

As Nacion stood there panting, the door squeaked open, and an officer, a major, entered. Nacion drew the .50 caliber Desert Eagle from the holster at his waist and, with clenched teeth, trained it on the man’s forehead.

“For your own sake, this had better be good news.”

The officer swallowed heavily.

“G-general, s-sir. We just got a message from the Antigua. She’s being boarded, sir.”

The officer turned, and sprinted out of the room, hands over the back of his head as Nacion fired wildly after him. When the gun clicked dry, he hurled it to the floor.

IHS Ramsay, now Alongside the Antigua

Captain Hewerk had moved down from the bridge, and now with three fully armed Marines was on his way down a ladder at the side of the ship to board a Special Forces inflatable to take him to the Antigua.

The white wake of the boat spread out behind them as they raced the intervening two hundred yards from one ship the other and the Captain shared a look with one of the Marines who came with him, fully kitted out in flak jacket and kevlar helmet. All was strangely in wood camo, very unfitting for a ship he thought, but his mind returned to the task ahead. One of the other people on the boat carried a digital video camera and a pair of digital cameras to take pictures of the cargo that was being carried.


On the Deck Captain Temple had just finished supervising the loading of the prisoners onto an SH-60 that had flown out from Conquerer to take them for further interogation and then transport to the mainland if it was required by the Guadalombian government, who were being informed about the operation at that moment in time by Vice-Admiral Jackson. They would also be offered custody of the Antigua if they could send out an engineering crew or tugs to get her back to a port. If they did not need the ship then a scuttling charge would be placed and she would go down to the bottom, forever a minor navigation challenge for any submarines that passed by this strech of the world.

Captain Hewerk shook hands with Temple when he arrived on the deck, and was taken quickly to the drugs shipment that had been found, the cameraman already taking pictures of the blood stains that were on the forward deck near where they had come aboard. A pair of Special Operators had taken ID from these bodies and then dumped what remained of them over the side, a closed casket would have been the only way for them anyway. Those on the bridge were still there, a pair of Operators searching for any ID that they had whilst another group checked cabins for any possible identification that could then be sent to the Guadalombian's to inform the families, if they were still in government controlled areas that was.

[OOC: Hot damn. I try to knock off Calvo, leave for a few days, and look what happens. Anyways, if I haven't already done so, consider this thread TAGGED for me. Guadalombia, if there's anything involving me you wanted to introduce, I'm ready for it. However, I'm not sure how involved I'm going to be with the rebels, what with them being dogpiled and massacred and all. They're sort of looking like a lost cause right about now...]

OOC: My plan is for me to have some initial success and then the tables turn as the druggies get wise and my people become lax. I for one dont intend to make it an easy ride!

OOC: My plan is for me to have some initial success and then the tables turn as the druggies get wise and my people become lax. I for one dont intend to make it an easy ride!

[OOC: I see. Well, pending Guadalombia's permission, I might be hiring a division (or more) of elite mercenaries to perform an amphibious assault somewhere in Guadalombia in support of the rebels. Of course, I will have bought the mercenaries' silence with a whole lot of extra cash. Then again, Guadalombia might just shoot down my idea, and that's fine. I'll just think of something else. We'll just have to wait until he responds.]

Aboard FRBS Odysseus Rex, operating off the coast of Guadalombia
0500 Hours

"Admiral, we have recieved a message from the IH fleets operating off the coasts. Something about a drug runner bound for them. An officer told us to be weary that they might do the same to us."

"Very good, Ensign. We shall be on the look out before we make our port call into Puerto Calvo. Are there any messages from Foxtrot base?"

"Nah, those landlubbers are safe and sound, it seems. They're patrolling the countryside south of Puerto Calvo, but havn't found much except for a few quick firefights. Most were quick, and no serious casualties have been reported."

"It looks as if our services may not be required."

"I don't know. The spooks at the BSS says something's headed our way."

"Something like?"

"Don't know. They just said to be ready."

"Damn those spooks. Put the crew on alert."

"Yes, Admiral."

(OOC: Halberdgardia, if you want to work out your idea over TG or IM, then I'm fully behind it. I'll get an IC post up when I'm feeling a little more inspired. I figured I'd also start issuing contracts on personnel from both sides, just to give some direction to the RP. Could make it interesting.)

[OOC: Guadalombia, is Florida in the hands of the government, or the rebels? If it's the latter, how many rebels can I expect defending it?]

(OOC: Halberdgardia, if you want to work out your idea over TG or IM, then I'm fully behind it. I'll get an IC post up when I'm feeling a little more inspired. I figured I'd also start issuing contracts on personnel from both sides, just to give some direction to the RP. Could make it interesting.)

[OOC: TGed you the basic idea. Let me know if it's plausible/something you want to do/or not.]

[OOC: Guadalombia, is Florida in the hands of the government, or the rebels? If it's the latter, how many rebels can I expect defending it?]

(OOC: Florida was cleared out by a government strike team earlier in the war (I think it's one of the firsts posts on the first page). The main strike force withdrew and left a small garrison of maybe twenty soldiers until a permanent force could arrive, but with the delay of that force, the rebels are preparing a major counterattack. I was thinking of having it coincide with your unit's arrival in the town.)

FAPG Base, Jungles Outside Real

The convoy of jeeps and green pickup trucks rumbled through the gates to the fortified compound, a former political prison that now served as a supply depot and operations command center for the rebels in addition to their headquarters in Real itself. One of the jeeps came to a halt in front of a large stone garrison building, and General Nacion stepped out, walking into the building and making way to his office on the second floor. He entered to find three other FAPC officers and an APLG representative, who stood and saluted upon his entrance. Annoyed, he waved away their salutes, and took a seat at his desk. He removed a cigar from the box in front of him, and struck a wooden match across the top of the desk. Touching it to the tip of the cigar, he inhaled, and let the smoke trail over the corners of his mouth, and drift through his nostrils. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the chair.

“Can somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

The FAPG officers looked around at each other. Eventually, one spoke up.

“General Nacion, sir, I do not know how to explain. It seems that whatever move we make, Calvo has been one step ahea-”

The APLG representative interrupted him.

“Excuse my interruption, General. I believe I may have information of value.”

Nacion glared at him.

“Then talk.”

“General Nacion, sir, the APLG has eyes and ears everywhere. We pride ourselves on always knowing what is going on in our country. Recently, we have noticed the same disturbances you have. Government intelligence and strike efficiency is improving. There are rumors, complimented by reports from my own men of helicopters unloading personnel in jungle bases, and foreign vessels patrolling the coast. I believe the Calvo may have recently come into outside assistance.”

Nacion’s attention was piqued.

“And?”

“Foreign specialists. Our moles at one of the government’s jungle airbases has determined that some are of Bonstocknian origin. The naval forces are flying under the colors of the USIH.

“You are certain?”

“I would bet my life on it.”

Nacion contemplated this.

“Fine. We must not let ourselves be taunted by these devils. Show them that we are unafraid. Offer your men four hundred dollars for every foreigner they kill if they identify the body. General Salguero, your men are prepared to counterattack the government soldiers at Florida?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Begin the attack one hour from now. Show them we are undaunted.”

“Of course, General sir.”

Office of the DCI, The Halberdgardian Central Intelligence Agency Compound, Somewhere in Halberdgardia, 1052 Zulu

Dominic Hatcher entered his superior's perpetually-shadowed office. He wanted to think that, having been DDCI for nearly ten years now, he was used to the DCI. But the truth was that Donovan Whitling still managed to unnerve the hell out of him.

"I have the intelligence you wanted to see, Director."

There was a pause.

"Yes. Enter."

The door to the DCI's office silently closed itself behind Hatcher. The DCI actually rotated his chair around to face Hatcher.

Odd, Hatcher thought. He never does that. But still he maintained his expression of impassivity.

"This is the intel on the situation in Guadalombia?"

"Yes, sir." Hatcher handed the manila folder to the DCI. The DCI opened it, and spent a few minutes scanning the various communiques, satellite images, and intel from HUMINT inside and near the country, that composed the report.

"Well, who would have guessed that Delta One would be responsible for starting a civil war? Although my plan had Calvo dead, not fighting."

The DDCI sat, and waited for his superior to finish his thinking aloud and make a decision.

"The campaign in Monitgnac?"

The DDCI was not expecting such an abrupt topic change, but he had looked at an update from the SOLE commander in Monitgnac, Colonel Jack Whittier, shortly before coming to deliver this report to Whitling, and so was not wholly unprepared.

"The situation is progressing well, sir. The rebels and loyalists appear to be well on their way to forging an official cease-fire, and in the meantime, their unofficial cease-fire is allowing them to crush Kolgev's forces. We've got reports of heavy Kolgev losses in a number of engagements across the country, with negligible allied casualties. If the rebels and loyalists keep up at their current pace, we could see peace and a new democratic government inside the year."

The DCI was obviously pleased to hear this news.

"At least one of my goddamned operations is going well." He paused. "Well then, if the Monitgnac operation is going so well, I believe we can afford to re-deploy our assets in Monitgnac to support the Guadalombian rebels relatively soon. Keep me informed on the Monitgnac operation, Hatcher. I want to be the first to hear about peace, and when we can get a SOLE team into Guadalombia."

"As always, sir."

[Florida, Guadalombia]
Von Seelow's team moved into Florida at around 0800 hours the next morning, hooking up with the rest of the three hundred man special operations regiment. The colonel surveyed his entire regiment and its soldiers in the center of the town, with the government buildings sorrounding them, and then he turned, contemplating the near future.

The briefing of the operation had specified that the regiment would remain in Florida until the heavier equipment arrived, including some of those newer Wolverine Light Tanks, and SOV-06 IFVs, both very adept to fighting in guerilla warfare. More than that some more men were being dropped into Florida proper, as well as some light 105mm howitzers for artillery support. Even special operations needed some of the heavier weapons, and if von Seelow wanted them he had to wait in Florida.

He waved for his inferior officers to pack around him, which included all the team leaders, and his chief of staff. He unfolded a map provided by the Guadalombian Army and pointed at several locations while he briefed,"Alright, we have ten teams of thirty men - sticks if you will. The Guadalombia Army has a small group protected Florida, nothing like what we'll really need. If General Nacion really wanted to he could punch right into Florida and re-take the city. Until we get the rest of our team in here I've decided to wait in Florida for our hardware, and while we're here protect the city for the Guadalombians. It'll be hard fighting, but I think we could pull it off if we really tried. I want our ten teams to split up and protect ten different entrance points into the city. If we spread out we'll be thin, but I think we can defend, nonetheless."

The rest of the men gave a solemn nod. von Seelow sighed and dismissed them. He looked over the map again. It really wouldn't be so easy, even with the aid of the fleet's big guns and missiles.

In the air activity had started up again. Task Force Dagger had finally rondevouzed with the smaller break off, proving a valuable asset, and they had finally been able to get some medium transports into the air from the larger Indestructable class Aircraft Carriers. von Seelow looked to the blue sky only to see large white parachutes detach and bring gargantuan brown boxes, slowly to the center of the city. The men were looking in awe and some waved at the leaving transports, which noisily flew off back towards the ocean.

When the boxes landed the men began to ply them apart with power tools and some even used their assault guns to break off the bolts, holding the crates tight. von Seelow gave a sigh of relief when they revealed what was being held up in the creates. Two Wolverine Light Tanks, and although that would decrease one thirty man team by six men, it would be worth it for the armor. There was more ammunition, and possibly over three thousand anti-personnel mines - those would come in handy. There were also some Ebro anti-tank missile launchers and other small arms. Mostly things directed towards the defense of Florida. Although the colonel was hoping to see some heavier equipment, this would do for now.

The anti-personnel mines would take about a couple of hours to ditribute around Florida, and after that the men would be put in place, and there they would stay until the fighting began. The two tanks would stay in the center to be rushed to trouble spots. This defense would be a difficult one, indeed.

Outside Foxtrot Base
0800 Hours

A small patrol of four green up-armored Humvees, each loaded with troops and with a .50 caliber machine gun on top, made its way out of the base, onto the roads. Overhead, a few Blackhawk choppers made their way in, probably ferrying supplies brought in from Puerto Calvo, where a few Bonstocknian Navy ships had deposited supplies. On the lead Humvee, Lieutenant Max Lanssen sat in the front passengers seat. In the drivers seat was his platoon sergeant, Willy Lee. Lieutenant Lanssen looked onto his map, and then turned to Lee. "About ten miles south of here is some town called Florida, if we keep following this road."

"Lieutenant, this isn't much of a road."

"Dirt lined by forests is good enough. We should be coming up on a small town here soon. It should be cleared, and it lies right on the road to Florida."

In the distance, a grouping of dreary brown houses surrounded by some fields was in the middle of the forests. Sergeant Lee halted, as did the three Humvees behind them. "Lieutenant," he said, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Lee, keep going. We were ordered to check this village out, and I am not about to blow my career this early for not following an order."

Lee gulped. "Yes, sir," was all he could manage out of his mouth, as he put his foot on the accelerator and soldiered on into town. Just as they began entering, a group of armed men stood in the way.

Lanssen shouted out, in Bonstocknian no less, "Identify yourselves!"

Lee looked forward, and gulped once more. He whispered to himself, "Ah, shiba..."

Arauca, Small Town roughly 8 miles north of Florida

Corporal Calvino Jaramillo squinted his eyes as the dust came off the dirt road leading up to the roadblock. Brushing the sweat off his brow, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and stepped forward, ready in case the newcomers intended to start trouble. The red cloth wrapped around his arm trailed behind him in the light breeze. He raised his hand for the others behind him to stay cool.

The vehicles rolled to a halt, and a gruff looking soldier began shouting in a foreign language. Jaramillo tried to conceal a grin. He had heard that high command was offering $400 to any man who brought back proof of a killed foreign soldier, and here a perfect opportunity had just driven right up to him.

Jaramillo raised his rifle and shouted back to his men in Spanish.

“Kill them!”

He pulled the trigger and sent a hail of lead into the windshield of the vehicle. Hearing the gunfire, the rest of the rebel garrison stationed in the town was stirred to action. Fighters grabbed their weapons and rushed into the streets, eager to see what was going on. They had been warned about the increasing frequency of government ambushes, and about he foreign devils aiding Calvo’s campaign, and all were eager to get a shot in at the Presidential loyalists.

Just before the rebels opened fire, Lieutenant Lanssen rolled down the blast and bullet resistant glass of the side window, and leaned out. He repeated himself. "Identify yourselves!" he commanded, again in Bonstocknian, a language which was more of a corrupted English. The rebels opened fire. Lieutenant Lanssen was instantly shot between the eyes.

The Humvees opened up back. Soldiers fired their M-4 Carbines, M203 Grenade launchers, and SAW machine guns from the windows of their armored vehicles, and on top the gunners fired .50 caliber machine gun fire. But they had clearly been taken by surprise. Sergeant Lee ducked, and got on the radio. Frantically, he shouted, "Foxtrot base, this is Alpha 1. We're taking fire! We've got KIAs! We need reinforcements!"

A gunshot took out the turrent gunner. He was badly wounded, and fell down. Sergeant Lee yelled to him. "Private, operate the radio. Get reinforcements!"

Clutching his chest, the Private crawled forward, as Lee climbed into the turrent and unleashed a hail of .50 caliber bullets against the oncoming rebels. Following the example, gunners on the other Humvees did the same, going forward. The rebels kept coming, out of buildings and the jungle. Lee blasted away, cutting them down as they came. Bullets hit his chest, but fortunately his body armor saved him, and he kept up the fight. A bullet hit him in the shoulder, hurting him badly, but he kept up the barrage. Finally, a few minutes later, eight AH-64 Apache helicopters flew overhead, and unleashed a nightmare of rockets and minigun fire on the rebels.

Florida, 0900 Hours

There was little warning to the attack save for the thunder of artillery guns on the hills a few miles away and the deafening screech of shells before they let loose their cascades of fire and shrapnel on the houses. One of the shells scored a direct hit on the mayor’s office in the center of town, blasting the domed roof clean off, and instantly ending the life of the Guadalombian Colonel commanding the temporary garrison.

The rebels had been waiting for the signal to attack since 3AM, having used the jungle to conceal their movements, and managing to effectively surround the city in preparation. As the first shells fell, a great blood curdling cry went up from select spots in the jungle, sending a shiver of cold fear down the spines of those who knew what it meant. Seconds later, they began pouring out of the trees, hundreds of red sashed rebel fighters wielding Kalashnikovs, firing at anything that moved. As the Guadalombian and Macabean soldiers opened fire, the lead cut into the guerilla fighters, killing dozens at a time, piling the bodies high. Still, undaunted they continued their attack, seeking to overrun the outlying defensive positions, and drive their enemies into the center of the city where they would be butchered with ease. If all went well, they would be dining in Florida by nightfall.

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

Arauca

Corporal Jaramillo was too caught up in the fight to take heed of the rocket shrieking towards him, and instantly he was shredded into a cloud of red dust and stringy flesh. As the barrage of rockets and hail of minigun bullets opened up from the bellies of the apache attack choppers, scores or rebel fighters, many of whom were standing uncovered in the street, were cut to ribbons. Blood spattered over the dirt roads, turning them red, and running in little rivers along the drainage ditches. Survivors scrambled for shelter in nearby houses, in an attempt to escape the wrath of the Apache. Soldiers with Stinger rocket launchers took up positions at windows or on rooftops, and took aim at their nemeses, firing a barrage of heat seeking guided rockets at the choppers.

OOC:Guadalombia, is the town of Florida within the range of the artillery at the airbase my division is sationed at? All my Artillery guns are ETC ones and can use rocket-assisted rounds. This gives my artillery a range of 34 Kilometers for the 203mm guns and 28 kilometers for the 175mm guns.

Arauca, Guadalombia
0815 Hours

Sergeant Lee looked out at the chaos the Apache's had caused. He called out to his troops, "Fall back!" The patrol retreated to the safety of the Bonstocknian base, and then the Apaches flew back, with two having been seriously damaged by Stinger missile fire. But the Federal Republic would strike back.

As Sergeant Lee returned to base, he was greeted by the Brigade commander. "Sergeant Lee," the CO began, "That firefight was quite impressive."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"I understand that you lost your Platoon Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Lanssen."

"Yes. My apologies that I could not save him."

"That will not be necessary. I know this is unorthodox, but for your conspicious valor in the face of the enemy above and beyond the call of duty, I would like to bestow upon you the permenant command of your platoon, Lieutenant Lee."

Lee's men began cheering from the seats of their Humvees, but Lee looked at the CO with a look of shock. "But, sir!" Lee said.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I can't become an officer... I'm a mere conscript! My duty is up soon, and I have to help my father in his factory!"

"It is your choice what you should do. If you accept the rank and command, you will have to stay on for a while. However, I am sure that your men will be fine with you, no matter what. I will leave you to make your decision. If you approve, our assault on the town of Arauca starts in two hours. You will lead the charge." He turned and left.

One of Lee's men turned to him. "Take it, sir." The rest of them nodded, and said their agreement.

Lee turned to his men. He saw each of the faces, young, full of hope, old friends and good buddies. He nodded to them. "Men," he said, "Prepare to attack by 0930 Hours sharp!"

The men cheered.

A few hours later, a whole battalion of 600 paratroopers, led by 12 M-8 Light Tanks and 20 armament carrying Humvees, began approaching Arauca from the Bonstocknian base. From the base, 18 105mm howitzers softened up defenses around the town with high-explosive shots, as the Apache helicopters provided air support.

As the battalion drew near, some of them stopped. Mortar crews, with a total of four 81mm mortars and six 60mm mortars, took up positions in the jungle, and carefully aimed their weapons towards the town. Soon enough, the popping of their shells turned into fiery explosions in the town. Eighteen Javelin missile teams and 18 .50 caliber machine gunners got just on the edges of town, and laid down suppressive fire. Fifty four individual fire-teams, each with two riflemen with M-4s, a grenedier with an M-4 with an M-203 grenade launcher, and a gunner with an M-249 SAW, crept into town after the tanks and Humvees, supporting each other and raiding houses while the tanks fired 105mm shots at machine gun nests and snipers in town.

Lieutenant Lee smiled. "Now to show them," he said.

Chalons-sur-Mer Naval Base, on the Eastern coast of Bonstock
0600 Hours Bonstocknian time

The light was barely breaking over the base, but it seemed to all that there was but something going on. Security was at its highest; no civilians were within twenty miles. On the pier, Admiral John Winthrop stood at the head, behind him row upon row of Federal Republic Marines. An aide quickly came up to him, and asked, "When is Lord Harald due to arrive?"

Admiral Winthrop looked out of his icy grey eyes at the end of the pier. "That would be his vehicle now," he said.

The Marines quickly stood at full attention, their weapons held in their hands Lord Harald Gustavsson with his tall figure loomed from his topless Humvee. His driver stopped at Admiral Winthrop, and the President of Bonstock got out.

"My lord," Winthrop began, "It is a pleasure for you to come and visit us."

"Do not tire me with needless introductions. Where is she?"

"She, my lord? Of course. One moment."

"I want her now. I'm tired of your delays, Admiral. And don't you try to blame it on slow Macabean manufacturers."

"My lord, look out at the sea, and you will see her."

Lord Harald looked out, and smiled. "You have done well, Admiral Winthrop."

"Thank you, my lord."

Lord Harald gazed for a second out to sea, his blue-green eyes shimmering under his reddish hair and clean-shaven face. He said, to himself, "She is more beautiful then I dreamt her."

OOC:Guadalombia, is the town of Florida within the range of the artillery at the airbase my division is sationed at? All my Artillery guns are ETC ones and can use rocket-assisted rounds. This gives my artillery a range of 34 Kilometers for the 203mm guns and 28 kilometers for the 175mm guns.

OOC: Your airbases are about 15-20 KM north of it, so yes, you can hit it with arty.

Unbeknownst to the Bonstocknian artillery and mortar teams, while their fireworks display may have looked impressive from a distance, in reality, they were wasting quite a bit of ammunition. Following the word of scouts reporting the advance of the Bonstocknian paratroopers, a good deal of the rebel forces had withdrawn from the town into the jungle. Outnumbered and largely outgunned, the FAPG units would have been slaughtered if they chose to defend a fixed position such as the town, and as per the orders of General Nacion, had chosen to take the enemy on piece by piece rather than all at once.

A token force remained in the city to give the illusion of a resistance, but what the artillery and mortars did not kill, the Bonstocknian death squads would.

A Red Tidean Recon Sattelite passed over the town of Florida, snapping some pictures. The pictures were then transmitted to Cosortium Headqaurters(who controls all the intellegince gathering in Red Tide). This was quickly sent up to Red Tidean High Command, who sent it back down to the commanding 2 Star General of the Red Tidean division in Guadalombia. The entire process took 30 to 45 minutes.

The 203mm guns began to rise up, the Self-Proppelled 175mm guns deployed their stabilizers and also rose their turrets. Coordinates were set for the field the Rebel troops were charging across. Then a gout of flames erupted from each artillery cannon, one by one. The HE-FRAG shells were sent soaring into the air.

IHS Peacekeeper, Somewhere South of Guadalombia

Admiral Jackson was on the bridge this morning. After a brief, but yet refreshing, sleep during which time he had heard no less than fifteen fighters launch from the deck just twenty feet or so above his cabin.

Today the Captain of Ramsay was flying in on a helicopter to explain why he had authorized the shooting up of a Guadalombian freighter without being completely sure of who was on it. The Admiral would emphasis that Hewerk had gotten lucky this time, but that in future he would have to identify his targets completely, before sending him back to his ship with no disciplinary action. However a film crew would be going with him, which in many cases was a lot worse than being disciplined, as they were annoying, intrusive, and ultimately put you in a bad light on television or radio or whatever annoying medium they worked with.

In fact by finding all of those drugs, and the bonus of them on a ship heading home, meant that the crew had only been on the Admiral's plate for less than fifteen minutes before they requested to go the the Drug Interdiction Patrol, the most glamourous part of the operation at the moment.

However that might change soon he thought as he watched another E-2CI takeoff from the deck below. An EA/6B had intercepted some open ended rebel transmissions of fighting going on in at least two towns or cities. There was also increased chatter on the frequencies that other nations were using in the theatre, but that encryption was not even attempting to be hacked into. They could shoot up a Guadalombian freighter, but being caught listening in to friendly, but unauthorized, communications was another matter.


"Admiral Sir", a man from the communications room had strode onto the bridge and was now standing on the wing behind the Admiral.

"Yes Commander"

"Sir, FleetIntel reports that the two suspected submarines that were with the group four days ago were Redge Diesel's conducting an exercise, they have since broken off once we started this deployment and have radio'd their thanks."

"Very well. Send a message to the ASW commander on Grisly that we should have identified them sooner. Tell him to work his sonar people up more, I dont want one of these getting a hole in them. We don't want to find out how much paperwork comes with that, not to mention the slow journey we would have to the dry dock."

"Of course Sir."

"Was there anything else?"

"One thing, Saipan, Tarawa, and Marshall will be coming within range of the fleet aircraft later today, Captain Roberts would like your permission to release fighters for an escort."

"Of course, those Marines may come in useful if we have to land on this place" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the rough direction of the nearby Island nation.

Lieutenant Lee rode up, on the turrent of his Humvee, leading the charge into town. He radioed the artillery and mortar teams, "Cease fire, we're getting into town." A few men with Kalashnikovs had taken up positions in the windows of houses, and they fired a bit, but the Bonstocknian Humvees and tanks, with their .50 caliber machine guns and 105mm cannons respectively, quickly put them to eternal silence, that is those that didn't flee. Lee radioed the base. "All clear, position under control. Our artillery did one hell of a job here today, out."

Around him, most of the town was ablaze. Those buildings that hadn't burned to the ground or been completely demolished were quickly searched by Bonstocknian fireteams. Some scattered resistance was found, but only 5 casulaties were reported among the Bonstocknians, all of them wounded in action and not killed, two of them by an errent Bonstocknian 60mm mortar shell.

Lee looked around town. The Battalion CO rode up in another Humvee. "Body count, Lieutenant?"

"Not much, sir. Most of the rebels appeared to have escaped."

"God damn. Leave a company for a garrison at this town. We'll keep up the pressure from here."

"Yes, sir," Lee said.

About 150 Bonstocknian soldiers stayed in town, while two patrols of four Humvees each looked around town for any wandering enemies. Patrols of OH-58D Kiowa scout helicopters took the search overhead. Meanwhile, a convoy of about 50 5 ton trucks of the 367th Transportation Battalion made their way from Puerto Calvo to the Bonstocknian base, filled with supplies for the Bonstocknians, including ammunition, fuel, and daily rations, escorted by about twenty armored Humvees with .50 caliber machine guns.

[Florida, Guadalombia]
The yell pierced the silence in Florida in the 3AM morning sky, startling von Seelow. The young colonel took his infra-red binoculars and put him to his face, looking out towards the horizon. Hundreds of rebel soldiers were pouring out of the trees, and his men had already begun to fire into their ranks. He bit his upper lip and swore,"Son of a bitch."

He shook his radioman awake and screamed into his ear,"Get to Dagger. Tell them the apocalypse has begun!"

The chatter of the Ak-47s and Hali-21s could be heard even from the city center, and the rebels were pouring in motar and artillery fire, albeit light. von Seelow looked out another window from his headquarters and saw the roof of the mayor's house fly off, and the glass windows shatter into the street. He would have to see if the Guadalombian commanding officer was dead - if he was, there went von Seelow's Guadalombian support. The radioman continued to get to the fleet, communicating through his laptop and various sattelites, and finally he shut the laptop and gave a thumbs up to von Seelow.

A sheer shriek could be heard over the rooftops of Florida, and in the star struck night the red glow of a shell could be heard, and then another one. They were the larger guns from Task Force Dagger, coming from the destroyers and the battleships. Each of those ships had at least one type of rail gun, and with the range of a rail gun, Florida became easy pickings for the fleet. At least eleven shells every thirty seconds began to rain down from above upon the positions of rebel soldiers, charging towards the city. The dirt lifted as a volcano as each shell hit a different position, sending particles of Earth meters distance in all directions. Fire enveloped human bodies and trees alike, and the noise shattered the ear drums of soldiers around the explosions.

However, that wasn't near the end of it. The rebels were going to find it hard to trespass into Florida, as von Seelow had planted the thousands of anti-personnel mines around the cicrumfrence of the city, prior to the rebel attack. Consequently, although they were small, the rebels were going to find that a lot of their men were going to be severely wounded, with severed hands or feet, or even legs. The taking of Florida would not be easy for the rebels, perhaps near impossible. Von Seelow's men would fight for their dear life, for the taking of Florida would mean the end of the presence of the Golden Throne inside Guadalombia.

The two Wolverine Light Tanks began to move from the center of the city, as mortar fire continued to pick at areas around them. They moved quickly, speeding through the streets as much as they could, possibly at around sixty kilometers per hour, keeping a constant velocity as much as possible, in order to conserve diesel fuel. They parked themselves a couple of blocks behind the area where the rebels were attacking and even the tank crews, through all that steel and titanium, could hear the click-clack of rifle fire.

More up close and personal, Team Echo and her thirty men, were in the thick of the action. Most of the riflemen had opened fire on the incoming rebel soldiers, using their excellent training to keep behind barricades and buildings, and basically acting as marksmen, to kill incoming rebel soldiers, without receiving casualties in return. Nonetheless, the fire fight was intense, even though the rebels were being pummelled with naval fire and the mines. Team commander, Captain Ritter Feres took the radio and began to scream over the airwaves towards von Seelow,"Suggesting withdrawl, sir! The rebels are gaining, and these mines aren't going to be exploding forever."

The captain released the talk button and waited for about three seconds. The colonel responded,"Negative, I repeat, negative. Hold your ground. I will signal a withdrawl when necessary"

The captain cursed under his breath and moved to a group of men around him, giving them a bad look. It looked as if Echo was there to stay, and if they were overrun, the captain didn't think von Seelow cared much. But, Feres would make sure that Team Echo not only survived, but that they pushed the rebels back into the forest as well. If only he could get his hands on some damned air support.

[OOC: Just a quick bump.]

As the wall of fierce, unwashed humanity charged over the 70 yard stretch of open ground between the southeast corner of the city screaming their blood curdling battle cries and firing their rifles, they found themselves suddenly drowned out by a new shriek. Some halted in their charge to look skyward, others, knowing what the shriek meant, felt the correct response brewing in their hearts: terror. Yet none could scramble for distant cover soon enough as the naval shells slammed into the ground, sending men and limbs flying. Clouds of red dust settled where men had once stood, and huge, smoking craters in the dirt made swiss cheese of the flat landscape.

But the rebel commanders had not come to Florida on this day to be thwarted by an enemy they could not see, and from the treeline, they urged the next waves of men forward, reminding them to thank their foes navies for providing such wonderful cover in the form of the shell craters.

As if unfazed, two hundred more poured out of the treeline, and charged headlong, leaping over legless, mangled corpses, and ducking into shell holes, and taking aim at the Guadalombian and Macabean forces defending the entrances to the city. RPK and AK-47 fire exploded along the sides of barricades and covered the sides of brick homes in bullet holes. Often the earth below a rebel foot would explode in a black and red cloud as a screaming body fell to the floor, a mangled stump the only remnant of a once full leg. Macabee anti-personnel mines were doing their grim work well, cutting the ranks of the charging men. Meanwhile, the rebel artillery teams on the distant hillsides to the east continued their barrage. It was becoming ever more clear that Nacion was prepared to throw everything he had into retaking Florida.

On the north end of the city, where the jungle crept up all the way to the buildings on the edge of town, more red sashed soldiers moved in the gloom. While their comrades called attention to the south, they would open up a new front and inflict hard punishment on the capitalist dogs who had wrenched their stronghold from them.

Avoiding the road leading to the barricaded northeast stronghold, soldiers with rifles slung over their backs and machetes gripped in their teeth scaled the rough walls of houses and commercial buildings, occasionally hurling a hook and rope up to the roof to assist. Upon reaching the roof, rebel soldiers flattened out and made their way to the edges overlooking the city. Snipers among them took aim at soldiers in the streets and at the roadblocks, and opened fire, while others set up heavy machine guns to unleash a hail of lead on positions from the flanks.

Presidential Palace, Puerto Calvo

President General Emilio Diez Calvo stalked over the sunlit terrace overlooking the sea and the deadly rocks of the cliff below. Defense Minister Nembro rushed out, startling Calvo.

“What the Hell is it!? How many times do I have to tell you not to come storming out here like that without warning?”

“I apologize, your Excellency, but it is quite urgent!”

“Out with it!”

“Your Excellency, apparently the town of Florida has just come under a massive retaliation attack by General Nacion’s FAPG army!”

“Christ save us! How many men do we have there?”

“Including Macabean special forces numbering 300, we have 700 men. Reports are saying that General Savedra has already been killed in action by an artillery shell landing on his headquarters.”

“How many is Nacion sending?”

“We are not sure of exact numbers, but from the looks of it, everything he can muster.”

“Goddamnit! Get reinforcements to Florida immediately. I won’t see another city fall into Nacion’s greasy, filthy, communist claws.”

“Immediately, your Excellency.”

Nembro scrambled out of the room, hand clasped on his cap to keep it from falling off. Calvo walked over to the edge of the railing and spat in disgust.

OOC: I edited the map to include details on which towns are rebel occupied, which ones government occupied, and which are embattled:

http://usera.imagecave.com/mobrule132001/GuadalombiamapconflictEdit1.bmp.jpg

IHS Peacekeeper, Somewhere South of Guadalombia


The task force had fallen into a routine of sailing parallel to the island nation forwards and backwards over the course of the time of its deployment. After the initial success with the capture of the Antigua, a vessel that was currently sitting at the bottom of the sea with a fifteen foot hole in her stern, there had been little to talk of.

The three marine landing ships had joined up with the task force and were now steaming at fleet speed on the landward side of the five carriers awaiting for orders to action so that the reinforced marine regiment they contained could be landed.

However there was still no word from high command as to what to do with them, and so they sat on their landing ships playing cards, shooting off the deck, or working out in the Guadalombian sun.

While they did that the high command assessed the situation, foreign forces had been successful in pacifying areas but they appeared to now be on the back foot. Besides there seemed to be enough of them present in the country at the moment. However should the government fall then the ramifications on the drug trade to the IH mainland could be very severe.

3 months later…

After the meeting with the President (Dictator), General Saddam drove up to the Roman Republican Military Store’s Land Warfare Manufacturing Plant in his Aston Martin V12 Vanquish bought and given from the president. He parked his car and got out, he walked up the front door steps and saluted the security guard. The General walked up to the manager’s receptionist. He asked that he has a meeting with the manager. The receptionist called the manager that the general is here. The receptionist said that he can go in and she smiled as Saddam went to the door and opened it. Saddam walked up and the manager stood up, they both saluted and shook hands and both sat down.

“Hello General, what brings you here?” questioned the manager.

“I’m here to find out the production status on the order made by President Patel.” Responded Saddam

“Yes. Here is the clipboard with the status. The workers worked double time to work on the infantry weapons and equipment and the heavy support weapons. They finally finished the equipment and packed in crates.”

“Good to here. I almost forgot, did you remove the any marking of the manufacture. I do want to have the enemy trace the weapons back to this Store or have proof that the Romans are helping them.”

“Yes General, we remove all the markings.”

“Good, I want this weapons loaded onto trucks. These trucks will travel to Portugal and begin loading the weapons into freighters.”

“Yes General, they will leave within the next week.”

“Excellent, I’ll tell the president about the great news. I also want logistical support by sending more ammunition and infantry equipment. Do you understand me?”

“Yes General, we will provide an unlimited supply of ammo and future orders ready to be taken if necessary.”

“Very good, here is the payment for building the ordered equipment.”

Saddam pulled up 2 suitcases filled with $1 billion in 100 Roman Republican Dollar bills.

“Thank you general.”

Both men stood up and shook hands. Saddam opened the door and waved at the receptionist as he passed by.
Saddam walks up to his car and opens the door. He turns on the engine, reverses, and drives out of the plant and onto the road. He uses the voice-activated car phone command to call the president’s cell.

“Hello, President chilling, chilling.”

“Mr. President…This is Saddam…I discussed with the manager of Roman Republican Military Store’s Land Warfare Manufacturing Plant about the weapons status.”

“So are the weapons completed.”

“Yes Mr. President. They will be shipped in a week to Portugal.”

“Good…Good…Now the Marxists will receive the weapons. Now I’ll send the other generals to check out the aircraft status”

“Yes sir. Goodbye for now”

“Bye.”

The line hung up.

The President called General Kumar to check out the Air Warfare Manufacturing Plant to check on the production status on the Super Cobras, Kiowa Warriors, Warthogs, and Eagles. The president is going to send the Airborne Brigade and 500 Special Forces Operators from various military branches. The Operators will include Air Force Air Commandos, Army Special Forces, Navy SEALs, Marine Recon, and Army Rangers. The operators will insert by air using C-17 Globmasters or MC-130H Combat Talons. The will also insert by sea using a couple SSN-21 Seawolfs and SDVs. After insertion, the men entering by sea will secure a section of beach, so the freighters will unload the weapons for the Marxists. The operators who paradropped will try to make contact with the guerrilla leader and they’ll ask him were the location to drop of the weapons for his men. Mission objectives may vary on the situation.

The men will be sent and 2 days with their equipment. The SF equipment will includes extra ammo, Flyer ITV dune buggy, motorcycles, Stinger AAM, Javelin ATGM, Predator SRAW, medical supplies, and other necessary equipment to ensure mission success.

The President typed an encrypted e-mail to the Marxist leader. The e-mail is being monitored buy NSA operatives to ensure its safe arrival and will not be intercepted.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: The Guerrilla leader of Guadalombia
From: Dictator Bhavan Patel of the Roman Republic

I have read in various papers reporting that several of your comrades are being mutilated. I have requested an immediate logistical support by providing a list of the following weapons: 2 million XM-8 Rifles, 1 million M240G Machine Guns, 1 million SR-25 Sniper Rifles. They will send 5 million Uniforms for the Marxists to use. Each uniform will include Interceptor Body Armor, Ballistic/Laser Protective Spectacles, Helmet, AN/PVS-14 Night Vision Goggle, Thermal Goggle, AN/PAQ-4C Infrared Aiming Light, & Land Warrior Equipment.

We are send heavy weapons to complete your conquest; it includes: 800,000 155mm Mortars, 200,000 M777 155mm Lightweight Howitzers, 1 million Stinger launchers, & 1 million SMAW RPGs.

We are sending aircraft, but we need confirmation on the location your going to place and receive them. The aircraft are: 10,000 AH-1Z Super Cobras, 10,000 OH-58D Kiowa Warriors, 200 A-10 Warthogs, 1000 UH-60M Blackhawks, and 150 F-15 Eagles.

I’m immediately sending Paratroopers, SF Operators, training personnel. They will tell you who they are and their purpose for helping you. I need permission by you if I could send nuclear suitcase bombs, Chemical, and Biological weapons. I will send you another telegram if thing go wrong. Feel free to telegram me

Signed,
Dictator/President Bhavan Patel

Aboard an E-8 Joint-STARS Aircraft operating above the coast of Guadalombia
1200 Hours

"Sir, we're picking up some transmission, going to a rebel command post. It's an e-mail, we think, but we can't really decipher it. It is heavily encrypted."

"Where was it from, Senior Airman?"

"Our sources indicate that the transmission was from Roman Republic."

"Send a priority message to the BSS about this. Give them what we managed to intercept; perhaps they'll be able to do something with it."

"Yes, sir."

Headquarters, Bonstocknian Special Services, Encryption Decoding Room
1300 Hours

"Sir, we've been unable to decode the message in full, but we have managed to find some of its meaning. It appears Roman Republic is sending wast amounts of equipment to the rebels in Guadalombia."

"Those bastards! I thought they were our allies. Inform the President immediatly."

"Yes, sir."

Presidential Estate, Port Yuko, Bonstock
1315 Hours

Lord Harald was sitting behind his desk, signing a Senate bill on Freedom of Information, when his senior intelligence officer, Colonel Lin Mei, entered the room. "Sir," she said to Harald, "A priority message has been recieved from the BSS. An E-8 JSTARS aircraft picked up a signal confirming that Roman Republic is propping up the rebel with equipment."

Lord Harald siezed the paper from Lin's hands, and read it quickly. "My gods! Roman Republic? I must deter them from doing this." He quickly turned to his computer, and started typing a message to Bhavan Patel.

My dear Dictator Patal,

Currently, as you may know, Bonstock has deployed forces in support of the government of Guadalombia against the rebels. However, after interrogating one of their officers, we figured out that your country was provinding equipment and training to the rebels. I ask you, President Patal, why you would support someone your ally sees as a grave enemy.

Let's be honest with each other. Even though there must be some glorious freedom fighters in that group of rebels who mean only good, and even though the Guadalombian government is no angel itself, the leaders of the rebellion are in for two things: money and power. I'm sure they don't care about free elections afterwards; they mean to sieze power, and hold it. If they win, Guadalombia will only trade one tyrant for another, and the populace of Guadalombia would pay in blood and sacrafice. Why would you, who I know to be a sane, rational, and good-hearted man, support such a thing?

I am sure we're doing no better propping up the current regime in Guadalombia. Their regime is corrupt, it is incompetant, it is not a free and democratic society. The Guadalombian people have much reason to be angry at their government. However, therein lies our motive for supporting the government. After the rebels are destroyed, it is our plan to have our forces stay a while. We'll reform the Guadalombian government. By force of arms, if necessary, we will give the Guadalombian people free elections, rid their government of corrupt drug lords, and give Guadalombia back to its people. If the rebels win, there is nothing we can do.

We see your motives for supporting the rebels. Sure, they say they want free elections, but how can we trust them to keep their promises? Hitler promised he wouldn't invade Poland. Stalin promised free elections in North Korea and Eastern Europe. How can we be sure these men won't betray their promises? Sure, we can semi-forcibly reform them in the end, as we plan to do with Guadalombia's current government. But what would be the point of that? Regime changes are not bloodless affairs. It would be a long, extended, and protracted conflict anyway, all for the same possible end results.

And, for all that, in anything beyond a wargame, do you really think a Bonstocknian should fight a Roman? We're loyal, trusting allies. We should not be fighting eachother, supporting different factions in someone else's war. We should work together, for a solution, a good solution, one which will liberate the Guadalombian people, and strengthen our relations, without the needless bloodshed.

Join us. Support the government. In the end, when the rebels are defeated, we, together, will reform the Guadalombian government. Your nation, mine, the Macabees, Independant Hitmen, Red Tide2, we'll all work together to forge a new, better Guadalombia. In the end, Guadalombia's people will have back their country, without having to give everything else away for it. What do you say?

Always your humble and obiediant servant,

Harald, son of Gustav, lord of all Bonstocknians

NSA HQ...

The sensors went off. The NSA operatives were scrambling because some unknown source decrypted the President's e-mail. The NSA got on the computers to find out who decrypted the message. The computer began running numbers and finding and analyzing the numbers. The NSA operatives matched the codes belonging to Bonstock. The NSA phoned the president. The President under some stress walked around trying to figure out the current situation that the Bonstockians intercepted the message..

"...you got mail, son..." the computer received an e-mail from the Bonstockian leadership.

The President read the e-mail and was partily convinced with the Bonstockian President message. The President was still going to back the Marxist, but will not support them militarily. The President clicked the reply button and typed away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: President Harald of Bonstock
From: Dictator Bhavan Patel of the Roman Republic

I thank you for your e-mail and I am convinced with your message. But I would like to think this over to see if I will join your coalition.

Signed,
Dictator/President Bhavan Patel

A message was sent back to Bhavan Patal:

Thank you for your understanding. Soon, Guadalombia will be free. Until then, may our good relations live on forever.

Harald, son of Gustav, lord of all Bonstocknians

OOC: I assume that there is no point in me intercepting those communications, however I wish to make clear that my fleet is only allowing unarmed civilian airliners to enter Guadalombian airspace from the South. Military transports would be told to turn back or face destruction. Thinking of that would anybody like to RP such a scenario to make a break in the coaltion so that the rebels are not defeated too easily etc? Post here or TG me if you want to!

[Florida, Guadalombia]
Captain Ritter Feres looked at his watch. It had been two hours of this hell, however, his men had not given ground. Nonetheless, the rebels had stepped up the attack, despite heavy casualties. Team Echo couldn't hold for long. Sniper fire had sparked all over the place, and supressive rifle fire had caused grave casualties amongst the Guadalombian army. Team Echo had faced four dead, and about six wounded, which meant a third of the team. The wounded were in the center of the town, ready to get transported out, but no helicopters had made it yet. Dagger had thought it too dangerous to order Black Hawks into the fray, especially since they had to travel the entire distance from the fleet to Florida, to and fro. It was just too much work.

However, at least it kept up its heavy guns supporting the defense of Florida. Shells were still tearing up rebel positions and advances, sending shells into the thick of attacking rebel groups. Some guns had even moved to clear up the forest line, demolishing entire trees and throwing them into the air. It was nothing less than a total annihalation.

Captain Feres looked to the sky as a drenching sound of heavy engines covered the sound of the fire fight below. Six Be-23 Archimedes Lever transport aircraft, the heaviest aircraft in the world, and employed off one of the largest aircraft carriers in the world, the Indestructable class, although it was still a hassle and highly dangerous. Throughout the sky big brown crates made their way towards the ground and almost instantanously their thick white parachutes pushed into the sky above, making their fall just that much more gracefull. The crates held valuable ammunition, and even some of the new BDU-65 Samson battle suits. With the latter, the 5.56mm bullets employed by the Ak-47 would just bounce off the armor, since the armor could stop a 7.62mm rifle round employed conventionally, although of course, Macabee rifles employed a much more effective killing round. Nonetheless, the three hundred, or now less, man team would be almost unstoppable.

Nonetheless, Captain Feres had to worry about the twenty live men in Team Echo. He turned to his radio man, and he saw the man with a bullet through the forehead. He muttered under his breath,"Son of a fucking bitch."

He ran across his room and looked at the streets below. The men manning the street barricades were catching heavy fire, but Team Echo, safely tucked away in the buildings were doing well. However, the rebels had changed strategy - they were scaling the walls. He needed reinforcements, or he needed to move back. Florida could not be held without giving ground.

The pebbles on the streets below back to shake, suddenly, and Feres peeked out to his left. The two Wolverine Light Tanks were making their way up the street. Evidently von Seelow had thought it necessary enough to send the armor in. It was about time! The two tanks moved fast, their light armor allowing them quicker velocities. Levelling their ETC guns they began to fire over the barricades, like artillery, while on the move, while their secondary armaments, three 12.7mm heavy machine guns, zipped bullets towards the ranks of rebels trying to make it to the city walls. It was a slaughter.

Team Echo was still fighting for its life. Men looked down the walls to pick off those trying to scale them, but they themselves were killed by snipers. It was grim, and it was getting bloody, even for the special operation soldiers. The door to his rear slammed open and he turned around, pointing his gun towards the armed man running inside. It was his own soldier. The soldier, garbed in all black, spoke briskly, and with a thick accent from Weigar,"Sir, we've lost at least twelve more, and three more casualties."

Ferer bit his lip, and he made up his mind,"Get the men out. We're moving back. Tell the men to occupy the next block over. We'll use the sixty or so Guadalombians still alive here to hold up the rebel advance long enough for us to set up. Also, get some private to tell that goddamn von Seelow that we need another radio man and that we need some fucking reinforcements, and pronto."

The Be-23s had already left, and the BDU-64s were by now on the ground. Soon enough the rebels would know that Florida would not be an easy pickings. Team Golf had already been sent foward to reinforce Echo. Nonetheless, the sixteen man death toll was already high enough.

[OOC: I plan to lose all my men in this battle, regardless of all the effort I put into this. I have to leave for Spain on Monday, so I need to end my support by killing it all off. I was looking foward to a Dien Bien Phu type thing, so if you have heavy mortars and light artillery, be sure to use it on my soldiers.]

ooc: Mac, if you want, we can incorporate survivors into our army, or relieve you or something.

ic:

Arauca, Guadalombia
1200 Hours

It was high noon in the jungle town. Most Bonstocknian soldiers were still conducting "mop-up" operations. For now, the Bonstocknian GI's dark side hadn't been revealed; this hadn't been so hard fought a battle, so the looting and raping typical of a Bonstocknian takeover was not present, for now. Still, every house was searched for any sign of the rebels. They had been allowed to escape; that was inexcusable.

"Move out!" an officer cried. The battalion began to move, with the twelve light tanks leading the way. All 600 men started leaving the town. Only a platoon of around fourty men were left to man a checkpoint in the town; after all, the rebels were scattered. They needed to be found, at once.

Foxtrot Base
1200 Hours

The Battalion of supply trucks arrived at the base, thankfully unmolested. Soldiers busily removed rations, ammo, and other goods, putting them into the base's depot for future use. Meanwhile, twelve men got out of one truck, each armed with an M-4 carbine.

They walked, their heavy rucksacks on their backs, towards the flightline. There, two OH-58D Kiowa Warrior helicopters were ready to take off. "Captain," one of the pilots said, "We're ready."

"Good," said one of the men, apparently the leader.

"Captain Williams," said the man standing next to him, "How should we divide the detachment among the choppers?"

"I'll go on one, you on the other. We'll each have a Operations guy, a Weapons guy, a Medic, and a Communications specialist.

"All right."

The men divided up as told. Six sat on the outside of each helicopter, as the rotors got up to full power. Soon enough, they were off.

The choppers skimmed over the jungle canopy. They went far, beyond Florida, deep into Rebel held territory. About halfway between Florida and Puerto Esperanza, the men rappelled from their helicopters into the jungle.

Captain Williams looked over to one of the other men. "Zack, we got a town dead ahead, about two miles due west. Intel says they've got a rebel sympathizers in the town. We're due to teach them a bit of a lesson."

"Hell, it'll be like shooting birds with pellet guns back home in Granzburg."

"Yeah, those were the days. Now, let's move before the rebels see us."

The men hurried on over, towards a town where they were to strike.

(OOC: Sorry guys for not having posted in a day. I was out all yesterday, so i'll get my responses up today.)

OCC: Guadalombia, your have problems RPing the rebel Forces. The Rebels use guerrilla warfare, not conventional. You suck RPing the guerrillas, but great when you are RPing the government forces. You should use more guerrilla warfare, your given rebels a bad name. But your RPing skills are better towards the government forces.

OCC: Guadalombia, your have problems RPing the rebel Forces. The Rebels use guerrilla warfare, not conventional. You suck RPing the guerrillas, but great when you are RPing the government forces. You should use more guerrilla warfare, your given rebels a bad name. But your RPing skills are better towards the government forces.


[OOC: I think he's following more like the VietCong, who used both guerilla and conventional tactics. Because, you can't take a town, defended by special operation soldiers, through guerilla tactics.

And again, Nacion's intentions aren't to defend what he holds, which would mean he could use guerilla tactics to defend - or more specifically, partisan tactics. His intentions are to take Puerto Calvo, which means he has to launch offensives against the conventional army, which calls for conventional tactics.]

[OOC: I think he's following more like the VietCong, who used both guerilla and conventional tactics. Because, you can't take a town, defended by special operation soldiers, through guerilla tactics.

And again, Nacion's intentions aren't to defend what he holds, which would mean he could use guerilla tactics to defend - or more specifically, partisan tactics. His intentions are to take Puerto Calvo, which means he has to launch offensives against the conventional army, which calls for conventional tactics.]

thanks, that makes sense. Sometimes conventional vs. Conventional is bad because one side has the advantage. To make up the tactics, the weak team has to use guerrilla warfare. Just like hammarabi did against the Roman Legionary. Someone has to fight dirty, especially Guadalombian Marxists.

(OOC: Macabees hit it right on the nose. If anyone knows anything about guerilla warfare, count on that individual to be me, but I think in the circumstance a mixture of the two, like the tactics used by the Vietcong in 'Nam, is the most effective strategy for both gaining ground and scoring hits against the government and allied forces.)

(OOC: Macabees hit it right on the nose. If anyone knows anything about guerilla warfare, count on that individual to be me, but I think in the circumstance a mixture of the two, like the tactics used by the Vietcong in 'Nam, is the most effective strategy for both gaining ground and scoring hits against the government and allied forces.)

OCC: Just remember, More GUERRILLA WARFARE!! Use the unoffical tactics used by the insurgents of Iraq and militia of Somalia. Now just continue with you IC posts. Guerrilla Warfare is awesome!!

Florida, 0800 Hours

The corpses were piling in walls across the strip of empty ground leading to the barricade. It had become a lunarscape from the heavy saturation bombardment. However, a good deal of rebels had been lucky enough to make it across, and give the Macabean special forces in the buildings sufficient hell to force them back a block. As the Macabeans withdrew, Guadalombian national army forces covering them, the rebel spear pushed forward, deeper into the opening wound. A rain of mortars and artillery fire continued to fall on the streets and buildings as the rebel gunners unleashed hell with impunity. Blood was running in rivers into the storm drains. Occasionally the flow would be blocked by a piece of heavy debris, and red lakes would form.

Covered by their own snipers on the roof, more FAPC soldiers scaled the walls, as the first waves moved into the streets and occupied houses to set up strategic fire points. Bodies crumpled and fell in the streets as the onslaught pushed on, bullets tearing muscle and crushing bone, all under the rain of fire from above.

OOC: Still here, IC post coming shortly.

The artillery fire from the Red Tidean forces shifted, it began to pound the artillery supporting the rebels.

thanks, that makes sense. Sometimes conventional vs. Conventional is bad because one side has the advantage. To make up the tactics, the weak team has to use guerrilla warfare. Just like hammarabi did against the Roman Legionary. Someone has to fight dirty, especially Guadalombian Marxists.

OOC: What the hell are you talking about??? Hamurabi lived thousands of years before the first Roman king. He never fought the Romans in any way, shape, or form. Get on your history! Stay in school! Don't do crack! But if you have to, be sure to buy it from Sanchez down on 10th street.

[OOC: Alright, I leave for Spain on Monday, so it's high time that I get out of this war.]

[Florida, Guadalombia]
Captain Diern Farch, team leader of Golf, waved high to Captain Feres, and the latter wove back. Feres swore under his breath, what the hell was Golf so happy about. They were loosing Florida, the rebels were too strong. Farch stopped right in front of him and started yelling,"What the hell is happening back there? Why did you order your men back?"

Feres retorted,"That place was getting hot with locals. We're being overrun. They take casualties like bloody Chinamen."

Farch nodded and looked to the sky. Feres looked up too, but saw nothing, and hurumphed. It looked like the special ops soldiers were alone. He looked back down at Farch and noticed the man wearing the new BDU-64s and asked,"Where'd you get those?"

Farch looked at his BDU as well as said,"Oh this? They just dropped it. Dunno why."

Feres laughed. The man must have been stupid. That BDU-64 would save all their damn lives. The rebels be damned if one of their Ak-47 rounds could smash through the BDU-64. Farch lifted his helmet's HUD visor and took out his box of Camel's mild, lifting it towards Feres. The latter man declined and Farch shrugged and took one for himself, putting it between his lips rather gracefully. He put the beige box back into his armor's pocket and lit the cigarette. Feres smiled, but it was soon wiped away. A 5.56mm rifle round fit right through the man's visorless helmet, into his eye, and hit with a thud at the rear of the helmet. Feres was horrified and he soon ducked down - he wasn't wearing a BDU-64.

The two Wolverines were reversing their way, keeping up their machine gun fire on incoming rebel soldiers and even using their larger 105mm ETC guns against snipers on the roofs of the buildings. Their muzzles shuddered as the rounds left their guns, sweeping off entire sections from the buildings.

Feres got back up and placed himself behind a Wolverine, using it as cover, careful to move with it as the tank retreated back to the center of the town. All the while he screamed at the top of his lungs,"Echo and Golf, get the fuck out of the street! Snipers are red hot!"

Another sniper round cracked near him and a tickling feeling moved down his spine like a catepillar. He shrugged it off and continued to command. Finally he just gave up,"Echo, move to the rear!" He would let Gold clean this one up, leaderless.

Team Golf, even without their captain, preformed well, moving up, and Feres did one last thing before he moved out with Echo. Opening the lead tank's hatch he told the commander to lead a counter-attack towards the front of Florida. With that down Feres left to the center of the town, where Echo could rest and wait for the tanks to give their progress report.

As he tucked into another street, shells falling behind him, he looked back again, wondering if he should have stayed and helped Team Golf. To his horror a light artillery shell came out of the sky and struck the lead Wolverine's top armor, knocking it out immediately. A puff of black smoke was followed by a sharp red explosion, and when the cloud left all he could see was scraps of metal all over the floor, and the remnants of charred bodies. Damn, there went the armored support.

The second Wolverine didn't seem to take notice and it raced across the streets, back into the fray, regardless of artillery and mortar fire. When Feres took back to fleeing to the center he could see that the rebels were shelling every goddamn position the Guadalombian army held - the city was lighting up like a fire cracker.

The whiff of the rotors of a silent helicopter could be heard over the city and Feres took another look up, and he whispered to God that day his thanks, and his perpetual belief in him. Thirty RoLu-17 Galician attack helicopters, praying mantis' as their crews called them, were moving fast, low over the city. Small arms rifle fire was bouncing off the Glaicia's thick armor, and the nose turrets of all thirty helicopters were crackling away, dropping dozens, if not hundreds, of 30mm cannon fire on rebel positions, including roof top snipers.

Behind them moved at least fifty UH-60 Blackhawk transport helicopters, still not replaced by the RoLu-8 Transports, being designed by the Kriegzimmer Conglomerate. The gigantic fleet of transport helicopters must have raised a few eyes from the rebels, but they didn't seem touched when they arrived at Florida, under intense rifle fire. The RoLu-17s must have kept them in good conditions. Indeed, the Galicians seem good at their job.

The cannon fire, which had blocked out most other noises below, except for the loud blade cacophony produced by the UH-60s, had been replaced by the hiss of hundreds of 80mm rockets being fired from the rotating rocket artillery cannons under the stub wings of each helicopter - two per chopper. The entire landscape was being burned to a crisp by the alternating cannon fire and rocket fire. Those Galicians weren't leaving shit to chance.

The blackhawks had finally touched ground in the city's center, and some were still flying higher, waiting for their turn. Not all of them could land down at the same time - there were simply too many of them. News spread out that each team was leaving one by one, but nonetheless, all three hundred men could be given a ride, including the wounded - this time, though, the dead would be left behind.

Feres almost laughed when he saw the Blackhawks and his tattered team was sent out first, with their wounded. It took a hefty two minutes to load up the Blackhawks, but when they were done the Blackhawks lifted off the ground and the next batch touched down. One by one the teams left.

All the while Team Golf was still fighting the rebels, along with the single Wolverine Light Tank and the RoLu-17s. Aerial pressure kept the snipers off the roof and tortured rebel ground positions, as the Wolverine, with the infantry moving behind them, counter attacked. The last act of the Golden Empire's men was going to be to push those goddamn rebels back into the jungle, where they came from.

News arrived that Bonstock's forces were just a town away, and the Guadalombian soldiers would be happy to hear that Bonstock was sticking around, even if the Macabee soldiers weren't. The Guadalombians wouldn't be able to hold Florida on their own.

The counter-attack continued, and wearing their BDU-64s the men were almost unstoppable, almost no round puncturing their heavy battle suit armor [yes, completely modern technology]. House by house, street by street, Team Golf continued to make their move, pushing the rebels out.

For about thirty minutes Team Golf pushed back to the edge of the town while the Blackhawks were still loading up. Finally they got word that it was their turn. Turning away they moved back to the city center, while the Galicia's kept up their heavy cannon fire on rebel positions on the edge of the town, and in the jungle. The Wolverine light tank moved back to a defensive position. Unfortunately for its Macabee crew, it couldn't be lifted back to Task Force Dagger. It would have to stay and die in Florida, or make a run for it. The crew opted for the latter, retreating back into the center of the city, keeping up heavy barrage fire, crushing the dead and wounded Guadalombian and Macabee soldiers underneath their tracks. Then the crew popped out of the tank and moved into empty houses, doubling as civilians. They would live to die another day. The tank itself was destroyed by a single ATGM fired from a RoLu-17 attack helicopter. It went up in flames as the last member of Golf was inside the chopper.

The RoLu-17s aided thirty members of the Guadalombian military make a last ditch effort to complete the counter-attack, but they were forced to pull out of the fight and leave the Guadalombians to do their own bidding, as the Blackhawks were heading out.

The Macabee days in Guadalombia were over for now. Task Force Dagger had received word from Prince Ritter, the soon to be Emperor of the Golden Throne [OOC: If you didn't know, Jonach I died recently], had ordered for all units to report back to the Empire, and the special operation soldiers and Dagger were no exception. It seemed as if trouble loomed at home...

OOC: What the hell are you talking about??? Hamurabi lived thousands of years before the first Roman king. He never fought the Romans in any way, shape, or form. Get on your history! Stay in school! Don't do crack! But if you have to, be sure to buy it from Sanchez down on 10th street.

OCC: Ha Ha..Very funny. You should do stand up comedy on Comedy Centeral. Sorry must have say the wrong person. I can't remember the name but I think he was the leader of Cartherage.

[OOC: You're talking about Hannibal. But he didn't use guerilla warfare. In fact, his greatest victories were four pitched battles, one right after the other. The most infamous victory was Cannae, fought in August of 216 - 80,000 Romans lost their lives to mostly his Numidian cavalry.

The man who actually fought guerilla warfare during the Second Punic War was Fabius, who was consul of Rome the year prior to Cannae - which is why many partisan tactics are dubbed Fabian tactics.

However, the senate grew tired of his tactics since he wasn't bringing much glory to Rome and the senate mobilized another four legions and two alae's of Roman allies. They were crushed at Cannae, unfortunately.

Hannibal remained undefeated until Zama in North Africa. Scipio Africanus remains the only general to have defeated Hannibal.]

"May I see your passport, sir?"

"Of course."

"This appears to be in order; may I ask you some questions, sir?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. First, what is your occupation, Mr. Kolyov?"

"I sell corporate airliners. Everything from a Lear jet to a Gulfstream to a 747, I can sell you; I can also exclusively offer the newest two airplanes from InterCon Flight Engineering, the 844 airbus, seating five hundred passengers on three levels, and the Slipstream 110 private jetliner, faster and more luxurious than the Gulfstreams with half the cabin noise."

"Very impressive. You are thirty-one years of age, correct?"

"Don't tell anyone."

"Sir, you hardly need to worry about your age. My twenty-four year old son would be jealous of how fit you appear."

"Well, thank you. I try to stay active."

"Good advice for anyone. You live in Phantasmo, Freudotopia?"

"I do. Wonderful, beautiful historic city."

"So I have heard. Now finally, how long will your stay in Guadalombia last?"

"Three weeks. I'll be in Puerto Calvo for most of them."

"Ah, you must take some time out from your work schedule to see the sites. Be a tourist for a few days, my friend."

"Actually, I'm not here on business. This is a vacation, actually."

"Really? Sir, I must advise you that security is extremely tight across the country as a result of the rebel aggression as of late. You may wish to shorten your stay."

"You didn't mention this when you thought I was here on business."

"Well, I would think that if you are surrounded by your business associates, no harm would befall you. Even the cities are not entirely safe, especially at night. But if you are on your own, you carry a much larger risk. But you seem like you can stay out of trouble. You may proceed to baggage claim. Have a nice stay, mister Kolyov."

"Wait. Before I go, what am I in danger of on my own?"

"Well, I am hesitant to criticize the security arrangements in the city, but there have been 'incidents' of unexplained disappearances in certain places, including Puerto Calvo."

"Abductions? Don't worry, you were right. I can take care of myself. Better than anyone knows," he added under his breath as he turned to leave.

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing. You must have misheard."

"Have a good day, sir."

"And you."

Samuel "Boo" Radly moved through the turnstile. Ten minutes later, he exited baggage claim with his small black suitcase and traveling briefcase. For all the world he looked like another business man come to profit from the ongoing insurgency in Guadalombia.

The reality, however, was quite different. Samuel Radley does not officially exist. His existence cannot be proven. No birth certificates or fingerprint records can be found to prove his identity. Saul Hudson is the only man on earth that knows who Radley is.

The details of his life completely wiped from any computer or hardcopy file in Freudotopia, he is a citizen of nowhere. Those who knew him before he was conscripted into the service of the Emperor were systematically liquidated. Enemy intelligence agencies have tried and failed to pierce his cover. He is invisible in plain sight. His face may be recognized occasionally by a security camera, but the image has never been given a name. Or more likely, the face is generally traced to one of his many cover identities, and governments will proceed to waste countless man-hours and thousands of dollars to trace his movements. Not one of these operations has met with success. To the civilians, soldiers and spies of the world, he is a ghost. This is how Boo Radley operates.

Thus, the false identity of Vladimir Kolyov triggered no red flags as it was run through the bureaucracy of Guadalombia. His face had no matches on the security camera databanks, and his passport was perfectly legitimate.

At this point, one begins to wonder what such a secretive character is up to. An assassination, perhaps. Or a simple act of theft or espionage. He would be the ideal man for any job.

The truth was none of these things. Boo Radley was not in Guadalombia to assist either side in the conflict, which Freudotopia was remaining neutral in. Aggressively neutral. Unknown to but a few, the Emperor was pursuing his own agenda in the small island paradise. But Radley was not a part of any of this manipulation. At least not yet.

Radley was in Guadalombia on the first vacation of his life. Three weeks, paid for by the Emperor himself. Of course, the monies had been transferred through ninety-eight fronts and legitimate businesses to mask any Imperial involvement.

Radley was not in the troubled nation to kill or save a politician or general. He was not there to spy, steal, sabotage, interrogate, or assassinate. He was there to relax. After the grueling Durthmont Incident, he had been given a short break before returning to the situation in Buchiana, the rightful territory of allied Generia. He had personally exposed the mastermind of the Durthmont Incident, none other than Archibald Smythe, the head of FIIS at the time. The assignment had been a difficult one, but Radley had never failed his Emperor yet.

So, here he was, with a suitcase full of linen suits and khaki shorts, sunscreen and sunglasses, ready to spend a relaxing few weeks changing his skin color as a means to foil potential investigators, look for a new cover identity (he had none from small, remote, war-torn countries) and return to his regular exercise routine, which had been disrupted often as of late. All this was personal; no business involved.

Radley rented a sleek sedan under his assumed name, walked to the lot, and climbed in. A comfortable vehicle with power to spare. Just his style. "Hotel Tropico," he spoke. The GPS lit up, his route illuminated by a red arrow. The car sped away from the airport.

He drove in silence for a few minutes. Then his cell phone vibrated. Equipped with 1,028 bit encryption, it was very, very secure, and his only direct line to Saul Hudson. The Emperor was the only one who ever called. Radley picked up. There was no need to maintain his cover. He had checked the car for electronic bugs before departing.

"This is Mr. Radley."

A low, quiet voice issued from the tiny speaker.

"Hello, my friend. I'm afraid I must interrupt your vacation. I have need of you."

"I am at your disposal."

"Good. You will stay at the Hotel Tropico as planned. You will await a call from a man named LaVardo. He will give you time and place for a meeting. You will meet him, and he will give you your next instructions. These orders come from the highest levels of the Guadalombian government. I have agreed to lend them support in their fight against the communist rebels. I have decided against a military presence for now. You will operate alone, as usual."

Radley understood.

"I will execute these orders."

"Excellent. I can count on you, my friend. Good luck."

The Emperor broke the connection. He always did.

Radley sat in silence. His first vacation, and yet business still took over. No matter. Five minutes later he checked into his suite on the top floor of the hotel. At least he had free room and board. And his loyalty to the Emperor was the priority here. He began leafing through a travel brochure in order to begin to understand Puerto Calvo better. His first assignment would come soon.

OCC: Ha Ha..Very funny. You should do stand up comedy on Comedy Centeral. Sorry must have say the wrong person. I can't remember the name but I think he was the leader of Cartherage.

Yeah, dude. Like Mac said. That would be Hannibal. He was very tactically oriented, but his battles were essentially straightforward. He did not use very much of the guerilla tactics. How the hell can you use guerilla tactics when you have several African Elephants in your army?

[OOC: You're talking about Hannibal. But he didn't use guerilla warfare. In fact, his greatest victories were four pitched battles, one right after the other. The most infamous victory was Cannae, fought in August of 216 - 80,000 Romans lost their lives to mostly his Numidian cavalry.

The man who actually fought guerilla warfare during the Second Punic War was Fabius, who was consul of Rome the year prior to Cannae - which is why many partisan tactics are dubbed Fabian tactics.

However, the senate grew tired of his tactics since he wasn't bringing much glory to Rome and the senate mobilized another four legions and two alae's of Roman allies. They were crushed at Cannae, unfortunately.

Hannibal remained undefeated until Zama in North Africa. Scipio Africanus remains the only general to have defeated Hannibal.]

Thanks for explaining that. but Hannibal use tactic that was almost guerrilla warfare but to him it was called unconventional warfare. But thank you for explaining that.

IHS Ramsay


Being closer to the shoreline, and therefore closer to Florida. The fringe of the SPY-65ID Air Search Radar could just about detect aircraft overflying the city, and as such they had seen the large Macabee force of helicopters as they descended, picking them up again as they turned and headed back towards the suspected Macabee fleet location.


In order to fully assertain the location of the Macabee fleet Admiral Jackson dispatched a pair of F-22S Sea Raptors from their BARCAP patrol, and with full tanks they set power to super-cruise to rapidly catch the helicopters. An E-2CI came closer to shore as well, and began an airbourne track of them, hoping to maintain it to the carriers if the F-22's had to turn back through lack of fuel.



Meanwhile the Marine Landing Ships, carrying the 3rd Reinforced Marine Regiment, had moved through the carrier group and were now tracing a path between the carriers and the coast line with their own escorts, awaiting Guadalombian permission to land them to begin peacekeeping operations.

In the Presidential Palace, Rome…(Formerly White House)


The President flipped open his cell phone to call his Lieutenants for another meeting. The Bonstockian people intercepted and became more cautious about the Roman leadership. He needed this meeting so he can change his plans to smuggle the weapons to the guerrillas. At 1650 hours, all the President’s Lieutenants arrived and took their seats at the conference table. The President explained the current situation and the event that happened last night. He grabbed the letter from the Bonstockian President out of his folder. He was enraged that someone decrypted the e-mail for the guerrilla leader.

“Mr. President, What are we going to do?” asked General Gandhi.

“Our plan is to rethink the plan to smuggle the weapons without getting caught again.”

“Tell us your plan, sir.” Question General Kumar.

“My plan is to postpone to order for aircraft, because there is know way to get them in the country. The small arms can be easily smuggled in small bulks. The point is that the small arms will be stored in submarines and the will covertly dive all the way to the rebel held cities if they have a loading dock.”

“Great sir, but what is plan B if the government has blockaded the rebel cities. The newspapers said the Government and its allies have blockaded the rebel held cities. What’s our plan now.”

“Our plan General, is that we will deploy Navy SEALs in the subs. We will also attach SDVs on the subs to deliver the weapons from the subs. The SF operator being deployed today will contact the guerrilla leader and will tell him the location of were the weapons drop off.”

“Sir, if the SF operators insert successfully. How will the submarines get through the blockade.”

“The subs will insert quietly and maintain radio silence. The only communication will be sign language. Our purpose is to provide logistical support, not military. The submarines will not engage at will. The rules of engagement to all submarines and operators are fire fired upon. This will avoid an international incident, if the enemy discovers that it was us. The mission may vary on the situation.”

“Great sir.”

The Next Day…

An Airforce Base, Galica, Spain…

The order was sent in by the president, his lieutenants, and Chiefs of Staff. 500 Operators whom they are Navy SEALs, Army Special Forces, Marine Recon, Army Rangers, Air Commandos, Delta Force, and Army Snipers. They arrive at an Air Force Base in Galica, Spain by helicopters. Their equipment were already packed and loaded into C-17A Globemaster III before the Operators arrived.

The Operators were immediately briefed on their mission and were loaded on to C-130J Hercules.

The 40th Wing consisting of 2 groups of A-10A Warthogs (100 per), a group of F/A-22A Raptors (100 per), and 1 Airlift Group of C-130J Hercules (60 per). An Airlift group of C-17A Globemaster III (50 per) from the Airmobility Wing.

The fighter weapons load are AIM-120 AMRAAM and AIM-9X Sidewinders. The fighters were giving strict rules not to engage enemy fighters at will. They will only fire unless fire upon, this is not their war.

The Transports and Fighters taxi to the runway while the ground crew salute. One by one all the aircraft take off and fly to the drop zone.

Harbor in Liverpool…

20 Seawolfs and 30 Virginia Submarines were selected by the Naval Department. The selected subs were loading up on necessary supplies for the trip and loading the weapons for the guerrilla soldiers. The goal about the weapons, is that the submarines will arrive every month with more weapons for the guerrillas. 40 Navy SEALs arrived by trucks and boarded the submarines for their trip and to be briefed on their mission.

The Submarines were giving the same rules as the fighter aircraft. Not to engage enemy ships unless they were going to be hunted down.

30 minutes later, the submarines began leaving Liverpool to their destination.

Under the pleasant noonday heat of the bright Guadalombian sun, a grey pigeon swooped beneath laundry lines and signposts, through the narrow back alleys behind and between the buildings of the waterfront district, closing in on the tall alabaster white building so christened “Hotel Tropico,” one of the most luxurious five star hotel resorts in the city, and a haven for tourists from all over.

On one of the top floor rooms, overlooking the pure blue sea, a well dressed man stood on the balcony, watching the scene below. There was a thin strip of beach reserved for tourists staying at the various resort hotels that lined the shore in this part of town, and far below, well to do visitors from every far corner of the globe relaxed in the warmth of the day, blissfully unaware of the vicious nature of the situation further south in the jungles and embattled towns.

However, this man knew full well what was going on elsewhere in the country, though at the moment he wished he did not. He had come here for a vacation, and nothing more. Now, a strange humming sound caught his ears, and he scanned the sky for the source of the noise, which seemed to be coming from a few floors below, getting louder by the moment.

He looked over the railing and saw a miniature remote controlled helicopter making the climb to his position. He had heard of the terror wrought by similar objects in the Middle East, toy aircraft with ordinance strapped to them that were flown through office windows to convey carnage into the presumed security of the offices of dignitaries, military commanders, and spies.

He scanned quickly for any sign of the pilot, but was unsuccessful. The controller was probably in one of the rooms below him, out of sight. He moved back a few steps, scanning for an object to use as a bat. A loose chair leg on one of the wooden seats on the balcony caught his eye, and he moved to break it free. The helicopter had crested the railing, and Varus came up, chair leg ready. He brought it forward at the vehicle at full force.

But something caught his eye, stopping him mid swing. There was something attached to the object’s undercarriage that most certainly was not a bomb. A pair of black objects, what looked like a PDA and a small digital camera. He dropped the chair leg and moved over to the hovering toy, and unfastened the duct tape to free the small computer and the camera. As he did so the helicopter descended again out of view. Radley stepped back into his room, and looked at the screen. A message was already visible on screen.

Welcome to Puerto Calvo, Mr. Radley. The Emperor Saul Hudson put me in touch with you. He has informed me that you are at our disposal for the purposes of putting down this rather unfortunate situation in our country, and so naturally, recognizing you usefulness, I have decided to make use of you.

I’ll get right to the point. Your first assignment should be a simple one. We have a problem we need remedied immediately. President General Calvo’s lover, a certain Señorita Maria De Borgoña has recently been discovered trading info to the APLG regarding the schedule and whereabouts of his Excellency. This cannot be allowed to continue. Kill her. Make it look like an accident.

The target currently resides in a building on the north side of town, address 4213 Calvo Street, apartment 800. Upon completion of the contract send a digital photograph of the target to the E-mail address you see on the top of the screen, and wait for your next assignment.

Good luck, Mr. Radley. If you fail, I am certain I do not have to remind you that your involvement with our government will be completely denied, and all loose ends, human or otherwise, will be tied up.

-Alejandro Imaz

(bump)

OOC: Sorry for not posting any more replies yesterday, but I was out celebrating the 4th. I'll get working on IC responses now.

Military Assistance Command Guadalombia HQ
Foxtrot Base, Guadalombia
2100 Hours

"Sir, Florida has just been abandoned by the Macabees. It will most likely fall soon. C-17s have flown in the rest of the 6th Airborne, but we may be hard pressed to take the town."

"We must form a quarantine around the town. We should establish a firebase south of it, to bombard it and prevent resupply from the southern Rebel held cities."

"How would we establish such a base, sir?"

"We are paratroopers, correct? Get me a battalion and six C-17s."

"Yes, sir."

Outside, six C-17s were requisitioned from their current duties. Satellite reconnaissence had located a perfect hilltop where a few howitzers could be based, to bombard both Florida and the rebel supply lines leading to it. The 1st Battalion, 1st Brigade, 6th Airborne Division would be dropped behind enemy lines, 10 kilometers south of Florida.

The landing zone, a jungle hilltop overlooking a road leading to Florida, would be somewhat hazardous, given the jungle terrain. To deal with this, a C-130 would drop a 15,000 pound Daisy Cutter bomb, to clear the DZ of both trees and possible resistance.

As the men loaded in the transports, the C-130 took off with its payload. It flew to the designated drop zone, and let the Daisy Cutter fly. After the dust cleared, the C-17s flew over, dropping about 600 paratroopers into the clearing.

bump

Transmission to IH Marine Expeditionary Force Command-

Defense Minister General Nembro hereby gives you his full permission to land and begin peacekeeping operations in the following cities and their administrative jurisdictions: Alejandro, Abadia, Puerto Sombrada, Bielzo, Corton. Please transmit requests through the defense ministry before undertaking any operations, offensive or defensive that are not specifically authorized by President General Calvo.

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

Departing, the Macabee helicopters left two things in their wake: hundreds of rebel corpses strewn about in the street, and the flag of the FALG draped from the front of the tallest structure still standing, the former Guadalombian civil police station. The Guadalombian national army had taken heavy casualties, many of them a result of friendly fire artillery and aerial bombardments from supposed allies. The remaining forces had beat a hasty retreat as the Macabees evacuated.

Thousands of joy shots were fired in the face of the retreat as the rebel army rejoiced in their greatest victory to date. They had broken the first northern government stronghold, and now they would enjoy the spoils. As evening drew upon the city, raucous shouts echoed from below as the victorious rebel soldiers rushed through the streets, looting any houses and shops still left standing after the battle. Young girls, enamored by the brave young men of the unwashed horde, came out into the street to watch, many of whom would later join the soldiers in their confiscated beds later that night.

But as the city blazed and echoed with the victorious noise of the conquering army, a predator lurked in the jungle just outside the boundaries. Soldiers of the Guadalombian Special Insertion/Assault Forces (SIAF) had made their way through the jungle and taken up positions surrounding the town. The reinforcement turned main assault team President General Calvo had ordered mobilized nearly a day ago was still an hour away, plenty of time for the SIAF soldiers to move in and execute their mission.


Sources from within the APLG had tipped off the government that the man directing the assault on Florida was one of General Nacion’s right hand men, a certain Colonel Felipe de Igualada, a confident military commander and trusted confidant of Nacion. Picking him up was sure to yield all manner of intelligence on FALG activities, perhaps even the location of Nacion himself.

While the rebels looted and caroused in their newly taken town, the SIAF soldiers moved in under the cover of the moonless night. They were equipped with night vision goggles, a luxury both the Guadalombian national army regulars and the FALG rebels did not have access too. Following procedure, they would avoid much of the activity in the streets, utilizing back ways and some of the limited sewer system to gain access to the police station where Colonel de Igualada was setting up a headquarters.

The four teams moved quietly into the town, blending in with the dark foliage and the rubble. The first team located a large hole in the middle of the street where a shell had blown a hole straight into the small sewer system. The special forces slipped quietly into the pipes, and waded through the knee deep muck, now running red with the blood from killed soldiers lying on the streets above, towards the dead end they knew awaited them. There they would find a ladder and come up right behind the police station.

The other teams moved in through the alleys, two breaking off a few blocks from the objective to take rooftop positions to cover the assault teams. The extraction would supposedly coincide with a second assault by allied paratroopers, giving the cover needed to get the man out of the city and into a waiting chopper.

Four minutes following the arrival of the support teams to their destinations, the sewer grating fell away behind the police station, and six men climbed out, stinking and oozing filth. Without giving heed to their hygiene (the stench of the unwashed rebel fighters hanging over the city would more than cover their own odor), they moved to the back wall of the police station. As aerial photos had shown, part of the building had collapsed during the shelling, and it was now possible to gain access to the roof by climbing the mountain of concrete to a second adjacent building and then making a short 12 inch leap between the rooftops. The men did exactly as they had planned, and now two positioned themselves over the windows of the second floor main office while the second assault team waited in the shadows of an alley across the street.

The soldiers secured grapple lines and made ready to repel, when a large explosion and bright flash on a nearby hilltop shook the building. Shouts and alarms rang out over the city as the rebels scrambled to investigate. The sentries at the front of the police station were too distracted to notice the second assault team charge across the street. The sentries were laid to rest by silent knives, and the team moved on the front door as the windows of the second floor office crashed inwards and gunfire exploded.

The takedown was an easy affair. In their surprise, the rebel guards gave the SIAF unit the initiative, and the first floor was quickly secured. The Colonel had been alone in the office, but two sentries, hearing the crash, had burst in, meeting a quick burst of fire and instant death. The Colonel was secured and attached to a harness, whereupon he was lowered to the alley below along with one of the soldiers, who was quickly joined by the rest of the team. As gunfire exploded elsewhere in the city with the arrival of the Bonstocknian force, the team eloped with the colonel through the sewers, and back to the safety of the jungle. The other teams also dispersed without incident amid the unfolding chaos.

The Guadalombian regular army would arrive in a few hours to join the battle, if there was anything left of the rebel garrison after the Bonstocknians had their fun, but at the moment it certainly seemed that the FALG’s party had been a short lived affair, and now a tired, surprised garrison would have to face a team of 600 crack paratroopers.

Drop Zone Auburn
0100 Hours

The Bonstocknians had landed in the DZ safely. A rebel patrol was shot away, but so far no Bonstocknians were hurt, save a lone paratrooper whose chute didn't open. With the minimal casualties and relative calm of the DZ, it was perfect time for reinforcement.

Dozens of UH-60s flew in, bringing their cargo, a whole battery of six 105mm howitzers. Within an hour, they were in firing position. Joined by two more batteries just outside the Bonstocknian base, they began pounding away at Florida, as the paratroopers siezed the roads to prevent rebel resupply. To add to the chaos, four AC-130s flew over the town, giving it a pounding from above with chain guns and cannon that none of the rebels would forget.

At dawn, six battalions were scheduled to attack, with three more in reserve, all crack paratroopers, the elite of Bonstock's army. The soldiers checked their weapons. Zero hour was upon them.

The soldiers of the Guadalombian Republican Army crouched on the hilltops and on the edge of clearings across from the city as the fiery rain from Bonstocknian artillery and aerial batteries laid waste to the garrison. The first fingers of the new dawn began to stretch over distant mountains, and the orders went through the ranks to make ready to advance on the city.

The first wave of the 14,000 Guadalombian soldiers with a small complement of armor and APCs began to move on the smoking ruins of Florida as Guadalombian gunship and attack helicopters moved in overhead, laying down heavy machine gun fire and rocket barrages into the already smoking rubble.

The rebels had managed to recuperate somewhat from the initial surprise during the aerial attacks, and now the remaining 6,000 took positions in the rubble, taking shots at the advancing soldiers waiting for them to come within range of the machine guns.

Over the skies of Florida, Guadalombia
0600 Hours


"Charlie flight inbound to IP. Requesting permission to engage targets." The pilot, in his AH-64 Apache, looked over at the seven other choppers in the formation. Some distance away, two more formations were getting ready for their attack runs.

"Roger Charlie. We copy you at IP. Commence PSYOPS recording immediately."

"With pleasure, Foxtrot Base." The pilot hit a button, and a loudspeaker began to play Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries (http://www.carolinaclassical.com/articles/wagnervalkyries.html).

"Charlie flight, you are inbound to target."

"Roger. Target sighted." The pilot began to hover, as did his companions, and looked at the target: a rebel operated power generator, probably near the headquarters. "Distance to power generators?" the pilot asked his gunner.

"Within range, sir."

"Target, maximum firepower."

Two TOW missiles were quickly sent streaming towards the power generators. The other choppers began laying waste to Rebel positions, as they swooped in from above.

On the ground, soldiers of the 6th Airborne Division's 1st Brigade and 2nd Brigade began moving forward, nearly four thousand men. The artillery barrage continued, joined in by dozens of mortars, laying down 81mm and 60mm bombs. Teams with Javelin missiles and .50 caliber machine guns began taking up positions just outside town, trading fire with rebel machine guns. Suddenly, led by over fifty M-8 light tanks, the paratroopers began storming in on one of the main roads, the troopers picking out enemy anti-tank launchers while the tanks fired 105mm shots straight at rebel snipers and machine gun nests.

But, at one intersection, a platoon of four tanks began taking heavy fire. Their infantry support, a company of paratroopers, were pinned down by rebel sniper and machine gun fire from an abandoned textile factory. Down the street, a group of rebels jumped out of buildings, and began firing at the Bonstocknians. Two of the tanks began turning, away from the factory, to shoot them. An RPG suddenly flew from the top of the factory. One of the tanks was hit in the back. It blew up in a spectacular explosion. Soldiers frantically got on their radios.

"We've got a tank out! We've got KIAs! We need air support and dustoff, now!"

"Roger. We've got it."

High above the battlefield, a B-1 bomber was orbiting over the target, armed with JDAM smart bombs. The crew radioed down. "This is Advil one. Requesting target coordinates."

"Roger." A forward air controller quickly gave the coordinates of the factory. The men and the tanks backed up a bit. The B-1 crew plugged in the corrdinates into two JDAMs, and dropped them onto the factory.

The men heard the whistle as the bombs fell to their targets.

Machine gun fire clattered against the sides of the APC’s which barreled across the long cratered stretch of open ground as the jet engines screamed overhead. A Guadalombian F-16 cruised in low overhead, pulling up sharply to release a fuel air bomb on the rubble covered open pavilion that had marked the center of the city. The shockwave sent rubble and body parts flying as fire enveloped the stone and concrete. A pair of A-10s streaked over a target on the southwestern corner of the town, releasing an incendiary load as they went. Burning bodies charred and blackened as screams dissolved in charcoal throats.

The infantry advanced through the thick tree cover to the south and the west, and poured down the hillsides to the northwest, reaching the outskirts of the town to come under heavy fire. Mortars fell on rebel positions while artillery guns thundered away on the hilltops. Gunfire chattered through the concrete jungle as the battle raged in the streets. A pair of T-80 tanks rumbled into the streets, over sandbag and barbed wire barriers, infantry using the armor as mobile cover to take shots at rebel snipers and gunners. The cannon thundered, and shells made short work of what was left of the building facades.

The rebels were being hit hard, but they still managed to hold the initiative through use of the terrain, their snipers picking off government and Bonstocknian troops while machine gunners held them at bay. However, casualties were mounting on their side as well, and with the sheer numbers of the enemy pitted against them, it looked like they would soon be forced to withdraw to positions closer to the city center.

OOC: Im on holiday atm, I will post properly as soon as I can!

Eastern side of Florida
0800 Hours

Four tanks and a platoon of infantry were advancing up a backroad towards the city center. It seemed quiet; save for the rolling of tanks and gunfire in the distance, nothing seemed to be happening. Soldiers aimed around their M-4s never the less. They were getting somewhat jittery, having not seen much action.

Suddenly, a bullet pierced the morning silence. A rebel sniper on a rooftop put a round into the shoulder of a Bonstocknian soldier. He fell on the ground, bleeding badly. A hail of automatic gunfire flew back at the sniper.

"Medic!" screamed the soldier on the ground. A medic rushed over. The sniper saw him. Another shot rang out, straight through the medic's head. He was dead before he hit the ground.

One of the tanks moved its 105mm gun into firing position, aiming for the sniper's hideout. A pulverizing shot rang out, and the sniper's nest exploded. But enemy machine guns were taking up positions nearby. "We got KIAs and wounded here!" yelled the platoon RTO. "We need air and artillery support."

Off in the distance, Bonstocknian 105mm batteries aimed for the area, and fired off a volley. Two AH-64s swooped in onto the rebel positions, and let loose a barrage of chain gun and rocket fire into the rebel machine guns. The tanks, and their infantry support, began advancing.

OOC: Im on holiday atm, I will post properly as soon as I can!

(OOC: No rush.)

IHS Peacekeeper, now heading closer to the Guadalombian shoreline


The majority of aircraft on the flight deck now were F/A-18D Super Hornets loaded up with Air to Ground munitions that would be covering the Marine's as they landed today. No resistance was expected, and the Marines were deploying to areas that satellite recon showed to be population centres.


The Marine Landing Ships had moved West during the previous two days, and were now about 40miles due West of Puerto Sombrada, with an assortment of helicopters on the decks readying for the forward deployment of a pair of companies from the 3rd Battalion to cover the landings by securing the docks. The entire Regiment would come ashore here, and then disperse as it was required to in order to maintain the peace in the areas.


About ten minutes after the Super Hornets began orbiting the city, after passing directly over the battleground that was formally the city of Florida, the first of the UH-60's arrived overhead.

Five swooped onto the actual dock, the skilled pilots taking them inbetween the giant cranes that littered the landscape, and a platoon immeadiately fanned out, their jungle camoflauge uniforms looking out of place in the urban environment. These troops of Bravo Company of the 3rd Battalion were mostly equipped with G36C Assualt Rifles, some with underslung grenade launchers and most with some sort of optical sight that the troops each customised. The Marines were regarded as somewhat "special" troops by the regular army, as they had there own air corps and mostly chose their own personal weapons whilst the Army Squaddies were stuck with the M16A3's although they did customize them.

Now another flight of five helicopters dropped a second platoon into the dock area, whilst ten more put two platoons down around the enterance to the harbour. These were reinforced with teams of MG's, who set up their .50cal machine guns to cover the harbour enterance should anybody wish to interfere with the unloading of the Marines heavy equipment and the rest of the personel.

Once these teams were in position the third platoon of this company began arriving on CH-46 Chinooks, each of which held an HMMWV suspended beneath it. The sides of the Hummer's had a large white IH painted on them, to show that they were Peacekeepers invited in by the legitimate government.

Onboard the marine ships which would start unloading in an hour and a half there were another two battalions of Infantry supported by LAV's and numerous other vehicles, there was also an Artillery Battery of 12 155mm Towed Howitzers, and an Independent Tank Company of 24 M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tanks. The latter two units would mostly be based outside the urban areas once bases had been established whilst lighter vehicles patrolled the streets to keep them free of the FALG.

Lieutenant Pedro Sahadias pressed his back against the cold brick exterior of an apartment building, of which the top three floors were missing. Jet engines screeched overhead, and he could hear and feel bullets slamming into the other side of the wall. Making a quick sign of the cross, he leaned around the corner, whipping his head back around just as a hot tracer round blazed through the air where his skull had been. He looked first down the street, where three bodies lay, blood oozing from wounds in necks, and chests, and cracked skulls. A heavy gray box lay smashed beside one of the men, remnants of a primitive shortwave radio. He cursed himself once more for not letting himself carry the box into battle. Taking a breath, he considered the situation.

They were pinned down in what had once been the low rent district of the city. To his left were the remains of a bar turned FAPG machine gun nest, blown away by a smart bomb a few minutes earlier. To his right was a wall, the end of the cul de sac they were now occupying. Behind him, on the other side of the brick wall of the apartment building (the opposite wall having received a large open wound from a shell exploding nearby) was a machine gun and God knew how many snipers.

Sahadias took another breath and reached down to his vest, checking for a smoke grenade. There was one left. He pulled it along with a frag grenade and lay them out beside him, pins straightened for quick pulling. He looked down the wall at three others who watched him nervously, waiting for instructions and the inevitable fact that they would have to cross the street and subject themselves to the withering machine gun fire. Sahadias nodded and picked up the smoke grenade. The men got to their feet, but remained in a hunched position. The lieutenant got into a similar position, letting the M4 hang from the three point strap on his chest as he steadied himself against the wall with his free hand. Looking back once more, he pulled the pin on the smoke grenade and rolled it out into the center of the street. A short pop, and a heavy, sweet smelling fog began to build. Confused, the machine gunner opened fire into the cloud. The firing paused. Sahadias leap forward, taking the break in the gunfire to mean the gunner was reloading. The others bolted after him, across the smoke filled street.

Sahadias saw the silhouette of a building rising before him, and as he neared it, recognized a gaping whole where a large pane glass window had been. He hurdled over the low wall, into the safety of the dark, ruined bar. The moment he did so, the fire started up again. He heard a yelp as two of his men followed him into the building, and looked back to see a form being blown back and disappearing into the gray. He looked back to the interior of the building, dark and cool. He felt almost guilty as the pleasure of being alive swept over him. War was Hell, but it tended to make one appreciate the fact that he was still breathing.

-----------

Over the city, the thick clouds of black smoke and heavy dust was building. The rebels were being pounded into oblivion, and this particular war of attrition did not seem to be going their way. The air advantage of the government and allied forces had them keeping their heads down, waiting for a rocket to blow them to hell. For all the carnage and chaos, the battle of Florida had been raging for less than half and hour, and it seemed that it would soon be drawing to a close as the rebels were pushed back or slaughtered where they stood.

OOC: Back from holiday, dont know if this is dead or not though.

ooc: Yo, Guadalombia, you there?

OOC: im here and can continue if we go on :D

OOC: There has been no Guadalombian activity on NS for 13 days, so continuous bumps probably arnt gonna do anything.

OOC: And I have had this tagged, unhappy. :(

The Commandante is supporting the Rebels in this fight, and is sending them an AK-47 with 5 refills worth of ammo for each soldier.

Zatanan People's Armed Forces HQ, Valencia, Zatana

For weeks now, the developments in Guadalombia were being watched by the nation of Zatana.

Zatana, in many ways, shared the same history as Guadalombia. Zatana was once ruled by a corrupt, oppressive and imperialist dominated military dictatorship, much like that of General Calvo in Guadalombia.

Then revolutionaries, under the leadership of George Lopez and armed with the guiding ideology of Marxism-Leninism, led a People's War against the right wing tyranny in Zatana, finally ending in a huge victory for the revolutionary rebel forces and the destruction of corruption, oppression, capitalism and imperialism in Zatana.

Now Guadalombia was going through the same process that once took place in Zatana.

George Lopez, now President of the People's Republic Zatana and leader of the Zatanan Socialist Revolution, was at the HQ of the Zatanan People's Armed Forces.

George Lopez and other leading figures in the Zatanan People's Armed Forces and the Revolutionary Communist Party of Zatana were now in discussion about how best to aid the People's War and the revolution in Guadalombia.

After much heated talks and planning, Zatana's support for the guerrilla army in Guadalombia was to consist of three types of support.

The first type of support will be money, weapons, radios, laptops, encryption software, ammunition, food and medical supplies.

The second type of support will be Zatanan military advisors who will be sent to secure rebel held areas to help train the Guadalombian guerrillas to higher standards and to teach them newer concepts such a urban guerrilla warfare.

The third type of support will be Zatanan soldiers going to fight with the guerrillas against the fascist troops of General Calvo. Being a hispanic nation itself, Zatanan soldiers will not have any probelms with language or culture and will be given fake Guadalombian passports to not give away Zatana's support for the guerrillas to the enemy.