NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: This is another flashback thread, set immediately after the Senate's army reforms (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=443094) recommendations. It still precedes the events of Operation Hellfire. One of the outcomes will be that Colonel Mike Quinn gets a promotion to Brigadier General and he contacts a Scandavian general to train the Sarzonian army. This RP is CLOSED, but if you want to contribute somehow, please TG me or Scandavian States.

As a courtesy, please don't tag thread. Use the Jolt Thread tools to subscribe if you'd like to follow it.]

Just two weeks after the Senate's Military Affairs Committee finished their hearings on reforms needed by the Incorporated Sarzonian Army. Parliamentary debates lasted just four days before they enacted a new $10 trillion budget to commit to a massive overhaul of the Sarzonian military.

Mike Quinn was reading the last pages of the report compiled by Senator Brian Delgado, and it was massive reading. It outlined details about the Sarzonain army's lack of formal combat training, the lack of support from other branches of the military, and a laundry list's worth of changes that needed to be made.

At least it looks like the Senate isn't just paying lip service, Quinn thought. Included in the list of recommendations and action plans was an appropriations bill that was approved by voice vote in both houses of Parliament. President Mike Sarzo signed the legislation. Now it was up to the rest of the Incorporated Sarzonian Government to deliver on its promise to turn things around.

Quinn heard a knock on the door to his office.

"Come in."

Quinn was surprised to see a woman he knew as Delgado's personal secretary.

"Hi, I'm Perrie," she said.

"Mike Quinn," he said.

"General Quinn, I have a copy of the letter General Jackson of Scandavian States sent to Senator Delgado."

"Oh?"

"He's offered to arrange for training for the Army. Since you've been promoted, I think it's your call."

Quinn thanked Perrie and watched her leave. He then read the letter. He sat down at his computer and typed out a letter.

To: General of the Army Brandon Jackson
Imperial Scandavian Army
From: Brigadier General Mike Quinn
Incorporated Sarzonian Army
Subject: Training exercise

I am in receipt of a copy of the letter you sent to Senator Brian Delgado regarding the Empress's offer of your help in training our Army. I would like to begin training the army with your forces as soon as is practicable. Please forward any information necessary regarding the formal arrangements to the following address.

I appreciate the opportunity to right the numerous wrongs, both self-inflicted and otherwise, done to our Army.

Quinn folded the letter and stamped it, then drove to the mail facility in Saugerties where international miliary mail was sent. He reflected for a moment on the events that led to the single star that glittered on the shoulder padding on his uniform. It was quite a long road to get to wear that star, and his road nearly took a crushing detour, but now he was going to have to take the driver's seat for an army's much longer road to redemption.

Despite the fact that Sarzonia was in the same area as the Imperium, the distances involved were still quite considerable and interregional mail took time to be delivered. However, a quirk of the region was that military mail was regarded with the same importance, if not the protections, of diplomatic mail and it was often the case that two soldiers could correspond fair more readily than two civilians. That was, in effect, why it took less than a week for Quinn's letter to arrive. While Jackson was sorting through his morning stack of mail, he noticed the letter that was stamped to indicate international mail and frowned slightly, usually his staff handled post from non-Imperial sources. When he saw who had sent the letter, he understood.

After reading the letter and placing it in a file maked Sarzonia, Jackson sat at his desk considering what to do. He couldn't very well balk on the offer he had made in front of the entire Sarzonian Senate, in fact that wasn't even a matter of discussion. How to go about the training was another matter entirely, if they had any units that could be considered elite by any standard but their own, it would help immensely. Still, it would be a hard slog through Hell for both the Imperial Army units doing the training and especially the Sarzonian Army units being trained.

Decided on a course of action, Jackson picked up his phone and punched in a few numbers, "Hello, this is General of the Army Jackson, I need you to connect me to Brigadier Quinn, please."

Quinn was getting used to his new office at the Military Command Centre in Saugerties. Fortunately for Quinn, the building was just a few blocks across the border from his home in Woodstock and he could walk there if he chose to get the exercise. After a brisk walk, he settled into his office when he saw Lieutenant General Ryan Kennedy and Colonel David Whitney standing outside the door.

"Sir, Colonel," Quinn said, saluting.

Whitney nodded. "Colonel."

Kennedy smiled, saying, "like the new digs?"

"Yeah," Quinn began. "It's a far cry from Fort Nimitz." Quinn opened the door and the two other officers walked in behind him. Quinn had been given two additional copies of the Senate recommendations and he handed them to both men.

"What do you make of this Quinnie," Kennedy said.

"Sir, I think the Senate's actually trying to do more than give lip service."

"Throwing $10 trillion at the problem doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be solved," Whitney interjected.

"That's where General Jackson comes in."

"General Jackson," Kennedy asked. "I'm not sure if I'm familiar with a General Jackson. Where's he based?"

"New Copenhagen, I think."

"New Copenhagen? You mean he's Scandavian?"

"Yep."

Just then, the telephone rang. Quinn noticed the international number code on the call ID.

"General Quinn." His eyes widened. As he listened to Jackson, he pointed at the phone and mouthed the words, "it's him." Both Kennedy and Whitney stood silently, waiting for Quinn to give them the low down on what to expect.

Whitney could already see the needs. Divisions of light infantry, mechanised infantry, airborne, armoured, and mountain units, the best Sarzonia had to offer. Kennedy knew what his task would likely be. Even though he outranked Quinn, he knew what Quinn was capable of if given the opportunity. Now was the chance for him to prove what he was made of.

[I'm not sure exactly how to respond, so I'm just going to wing it and let you deal with getting your troops to the Imperium.]

After finishing his conversation with the Sarzonian general, Jackson depressed the connection button and then dialed another number, "Tobias, I need you to find out which training companies are currently out of cycle, especially those that have just finished. I need any NCOs from those companies that you can spare. What for? We're going to be responsible for training some Sarzonians and I'm anticipating a need for some good soldiers to pull the Sarzonian's heads out of their asses. I'll give you a week to get a comprehensive listing. Right, talk to you later."

Thereafter, he sent messages of to field army commanders, it would probably take as long as a week to get the new orders down to the proper regiments and another two weeks to get them all to Galicia. He almost regretted sending them to the desert, but a weather extreme was needed and it was easier for a human to identify when heat was getter the better of a body's ability to cope. But the worst of it would be the Galician drill sargeants who were often drawn from Stockholm Duchy, they hated the tropical climate more often than not and were infamous for becomming pissed off very rapidly when some fuckup private would keep them outside for longer than they had to be because the private couldn't execute a simple task properly. Give the state of the Sarzonian Army, it wasn't going to be pretty for the first few weeks.

Quinn, Whitney, and Kennedy were sitting down after Quinn sent the message. They were going over the potential assignments of people Quinn was going to take with him to Scandavian States.

"Let's see, the only one I'd feel comfortable with from that unit is Clark."

"I don't blame you," Whitney said. Private Jared Clark was slated to be in Portsmouth for another set of training, however, so the three men went back to the list. They knew that getting the "creme of the crop" was going to be a challenge, especially when it looked as though the entire crop emerged from a record famine.

"So what else do we have?"

Kennedy shook his head and fought the urge to pull out a cigarette. It was a nasty habit, he thought. But he was anxious. There was nothing but anxiety in that room, to the point where it hung in the air like the carbon monoxide from the burned tobacco would have if Kennedy had indulged his physiological need for a cigarette.

"Not much," Whitney said, putting an abrupt end to any effort to tiptoe through a sore subject as if it were a minefield in Inkana. "We need marksmen and how many of our guys actually know what the fuck they're doing," he asked, fixing a concerned look at Kennedy.

Even though Kennedy was Whitney's superior and Whitney was the lowest-ranking officer in the room, he was used to Whitney's behaviour. He knew the intent behind Whitney's outburst. Whitney called it like it was and he wasn't afraid to let his boss know about it. It was a trait that infuriated most of the senior leadership in Saugerties, but Kennedy valued it. As for Quinn, he gave Whitney a look that all but screamed, "get on with it!"

Hours later, the three men emerged in the midnight glow of street lights and neon signs with their list of units to take with them to Scandavia. The arduous process saw the three men argue, battle and dicker for four hours, but they finally came up with the people whom Quinn e-mailed as soon as he got home to pack their belongings for a trip to New Copenhagen. Sleep would come none too easily on this night, but the struggle to get sleep was only the beginning for the three men who would redefine the Incorporated Army.

General Jackson and Commandant Kerensky were waiting with their aides at the airport terminal where Quinn was expected to arrive. The aides, being good at their jobs, simply waited silently and kept a watchful eye out; despite the fact that a squad from the SSG was visibly present and the rest of the platoon was present but inconspicuous, a good aide was also a good bodyguard. The two commanding officers, the phrase being paradoxically very broad and very specific in their cases, recieved a lot of stares and double takes. Natasha and Brandon largely ignored the other people, nobody was being overly rude or bothersome and it wasn't every day that one saw two five-star generals out in public just shooting the breeze as if they didn't have a care in the world.

When Jackson noticed that the extendable walkway was firmly affixed to the jet, he motioned for two troopers towards the gateway. They briefly stopped to confer with the stewardess and then continued onwards into the walkway to retrieve General Quinn and whatever staff he had brought with him, on the way they managed to suggest to the security guard that if he was silly enough to attempt to in any way impede the two rifle-toting soldiers he would be shot for his troubles. Hopefully there wouldn't be any trouble with the crew and the Brigadier would be the first off the aircraft.

"Attention Flight 1846, you are cleared for takeoff, over."

The communication from the control tower jolted Quinn from his reverie as he thought about the events leading up to his flight to New Copenhagen to meet with General of the Army Jackson. He gazed down at the dress uniform of the one star rank he'd earned in part for his bravery in Inkana, but it was also a rank borne of attrition.

Wesley Pinckney had been a two star general with the same rank name until the disgraceful performance of Sarzonia's troops. Now, his former commanding officer was listed in the books of the dishonourably discharged as a lieutenant colonel. Despite their many disagreements from the battlefield, Quinn almost felt sorry for Pinckney. He knew the ignominy of a three step demotion in rank and a denial of pension was going to be the equivalent of a scarlet letter.

He shook that thought off as the flight took off from Woodstock International Jetport en route to New Copenhagen. He looked at Kennedy with a slight twinge of something resembling jealousy. Kennedy had some success in getting Chacor to back down in the border dispute that was essentially a Warm War. In fact, the border dispute was sometimes referred to in recently-written textbooks as the Warm War. Negotiations continued as both nations mobilised their militaries and when Sarzonia was on the verge of launching a three-pronged invasion, Chacoran Prime Minister Tommy Douglas hurried to the Gray House brandishing his passport.

All that played into Quinn's mind, but for his part, Kennedy felt nervous fora different reason. He was noticing the whirlwind of activity that led to this flight to New Copenhagen to meet with people he had only had a conference call with. He envied Quinn for his ability to arrange the details of the training with Jackson and the Scandavian troops. He also hoped that Whitney would also get something out of it even though he didn't wear any stars on his dress uniform.

The flight encountered surprisingly little turbulence as the expected weather front en route to New Copenhagen seemed to stall at a mountain range. The jet smoothly roared through the skies until it approached the outskirts of Scandavian territory, where the cabin began to rattle.

"Guess we hit a rough patch, huh," Kennedy said in a tone that suggested he was trying to lighten the mood.

"That'll be the least of our worries," Quinn said sombrely.

"This is Flight 1846 requesting permission to land, over."

"Flight 1846, you are cleared to land at Gate 7, over."

"Roger that."

The flight began its descent from the skies and eventually came to a stop at the gate. The three Sarzonian army officers all stood up, checked themselves in the mirror to make sure their uniforms didn't have anything out of place, then disembarked with Whitney carrying Kennedy's briefcase. Quinn carried his own and the three men soon found Jackson and Kerensky waiting patiently for them.

[Sorry it took me so long to get this posted.]

General Jackson noted the obviously Sarzonian officers disembarking and motioned for Kerensky to follow him. As he approached he nodded and shook the hand of the only Brigadier in the group, "You must be Quinn. Good to finally meet you. I guess that makes you two Whitney and Kennedy, forgive me for forgoing the ranks but I'm not familiar with the Sarzonian rank structure." Brandon chuckled, "Besides, unless the commander of the ISA appointed a Brigadier over himself for this trip, I can hardly be accused of insubdordination."

A quick double whistle and a 'wind 'em up' gesture signaled the plain clothes, less obvious special forces soldiers to follow the group of officers and their battlesuited comrades. It took nearly a half hour of walking to leave the massive terminal, but they followed several flights of stairs downstairs and outside. Waiting for them were four Cavalry Scout Vehicles displaying the parade colors of the 1st Royal Guards Regiment. Signalling the Sarzonian officers to hop into the second armoured vehicle, he crouch-jogged up the ramp and selected the furthest in seat.

As the turbine spooled up and they got underway, Jackson spoke into the microphone of his headset, "Alright, we're heading to New Copenhagen Palace, which is the Imperial Family's place of residence. As it so happens, you three have a dinner invitations with the Empress' family and other guests. The palace's garrison is aware of this, however there are still protocols and I shall walk you through them.

"Quinn, when we approach the palace gates you are to exit the vehicle. Waiting for you will be the garrison's commander; you will salute him, indentify yourself and your party, inform him that the Empress has extended you a dinner invitation, and then ask permission to pass through the gates. Because he already knows that this is so, he will return the salute and you will be granted permission to enter with your party on foot. I hope all three of you are in good shape, because the walk is about a mile up the stone path."

The tracked vehicle slowed to a stop and the ramp dropped. Kerensky tilted her head to indicate the exit and said, "Brigadier, do not embarass your country or your friends here. If either myself or Brandon have to rescue you, it will not reflect favorably."