Guffingfordian Troops Amass Near Zarbian Border [Archive]

Stevid

21-12-2005, 22:10

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/stevid.jpg
Open Comms From Ministry of Defence to the Parliament of Guffingford

The Ministry of Defence and the whole parliament of Stevid have been watching the whole conflict that has been brewing between Zarbia and The Maccabees and we on behalf of the nation have made no comment on the escalating situation between the two nations. We have a long treaty of non-aggression and allied pact of mutual agreement between Stevid and Zarbia. Stevid intends to maintain this alliance to the very end. Stevid so far hasn’t intervened because we do not wish to infringe on the sovereignty of either nation and in so doing so has not entered the war.
We have seen on many occasions the same stance on the other side of the sea in Guffingford- seeing as they are closer to all the action they have a right to be nervous- but now that Guffingford is now making hostile intensions towards Zarbia by lining military equipment and men along the Guffingfordii-Zarbian border and siding with the Maccabees, Stevid has no choice but to step in on Zarbia’s side of the whole affair.

Stevid has had some rough times this past year with Guffingford’s Extreme foreign policy regarding oil and a number of other nation and international things relating to the military and law and order. Stevid can no longer stand by the side lines and just watch Guffingford walk all over a soon to be out numbered nation, Zarbia. Diplomacy has proven invalid when it comes to Guffingford and action is the only term we can use against them.

This is not a declaration of war on Guffingford or the Maccabees, however we stand by Zarbia all the way- be it military wise or diplomatically- we stand with them. An enemy of Zarbia is and enemy of Stevid.

CLOSE COMMS

Docklands Naval Base- Home of the 3rd, 5th, and 8th Fleets

Docklands Naval Base- the largest naval base in Stevid and ranked amongst the twenty largest naval bases in the world, home to the three largest naval fleets Stevid can offer. The smallest of the three- the 8th Fleet, secondly the 3rd Fleet, and the pride and joy of the Royal Navy and holder of the title of the largest fleet in the Navy, the 5th Fleet.
The rarest thing that the population of Docklands could ever see is all the fleets in anchor and preparing for war. Two fleets were in anchor here, the 8th and of course the 5th. Every ship and every man was present and every man and women were preparing their ships for war. Amphibious Assault Ships were being loaded with Marines, helicopters, tanks and other vehicles. Aircraft and weaponry loaded onto carriers, extra stores of food and supplies and extra shells and missiles loaded onto all ships present.
The mood in the air was sombre, everyone knew where he or she was going and whom they might be fighting.
The fact that they might be fighting a long trusted ally such as Guffingford was not a comforting thought. Guffingford had made no secret in the past that they did actually fear the Stevid’s mighty Navy, in fact they had mentioned it openly in the past- but never once had they flinched, never once had they stopped competing against it. They had showed that they would be resilient for years to come.
This is what terrified the members of the Air Force, Army and Navy the most, the fact that they were former allies had no bearing and that Guffingford would fight no matter what the odds.
Even though the Guffingford Admiralty had openly admitted in the recent past that the Stevid’s Royal Navy was a fearsome one- they would no yet be beaten back by a fearsome reputation- they would fight no matter the odds.

The rigid discipline of the Navy, RAF and Army would stand firm in Stevid’s armed services. Stevid stood the same ground as Guffingford- Stevid too would fight to the last, no matter whom the enemy was.

Independent Hitmen

22-12-2005, 00:10

The New White House Press Room, J City
Central Independent Hitmen

President Anderson stepped out of the shadows that surrounded the main podium dressed in a casual suit jacket along with a baggy pair of jeans. The situation had not allowed him any time to change. With a polite nod to the assembled journalists whom he could barely make out such was the light being thrown at the small podium.

They had interrupted most programming on the 2000 channel IH networks in order to get this message out, and they hoped that people would listen and not just use the break to go and get some more beer. The President cleared his throat and then began his hastily prepared speech.

“Fellow Hitmen, I bring you news of a dire situation in a far away place. You all know of Guffingford, a friend through the NWO/RWC, then an enemy, then a neutral and now quite possibly a disrupter of world peace.”

“Many of you will have been following the situation in the area with The Macabees, former allys of the Independent Hitmen, and their struggles after the death of their Emperor.”

“Now Guffingford uses this as an excuse to threaten a nation on their borders who hold territory that they have always had desires for. We cannot allow any blatent aggression against such a country to happen, least of all from a major world power who would try and fool us that this is to protect their interests.”

“I therefore must demand that the Guffingford forces so publicly displayed at readiness to assault Zarbia are recalled to their bases, or at least away from the border that the two nations share. The dispute is between Zarbia and The Macabees and warrants no Guffingford intervention despite the recent increase in tensions. The United States of Independent Hitmen warns Guffingford that we will not stand for their aggression again. If we see any of your troops crossing the border in a hostile manner we will be forced to act. We have no other option. The United States has had enough of conflict in this area, and we will be using our influence to attempt to quell the dispute between the two countries before anybody else is adversely affected. This is not to say that our diplomatic efforts have ended. In fact they have barely started, and we hope that they do indeed succeed and that any form of armed conflict in a region already devastated by war can be avoided. ”

The President quickly left the podium after concluding the brief speech and ignored the barrage of questions that were thrown at his retreating form. He quickly moved back to the Presidential Office for yet another briefing, this one from the Generals.

Assembled in the room with the President were most of the most powerful Generals and Admirals that the country had, along with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and several members of the cabinet.

The Army was represented by several men in the room. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Field Marshal Mathers. The General of the Northern Armies, General Howard. The General of the Southern Armies, General Hammond. The General of the Central Army, Lt. General Mudgridge. Present on part of the split videoscreen were the Generals of the Eastern and Western Armies, Young and Edginton respectively.

The Marine’s were represented by their commander, Marine Field Marshal Henderson.

The Air Force was represented by the Commanders of the 4th, 9th and 25th Air Forces, all Generals. They were supplemented by the commanders of the 1st and 3rd on the videoscreen.

The Navy was represented by its commander, Grand Admiral Fergusson as well as five Fleet Admirals whose fleets were all protecting the shores of the Hitmen at the moment. Those Admirals commanded 1st, 3rd, 7th, 12th and 18th Fleets. The commanders of the 2nd and 5th Fleets were also on the video conferencing screen from their respective flagships.

The President thought that in all there was enough brass in the Office to make at least a cruiser, a mild joke that he decided to put off for a lighter occasion.

“Ok Gentlemen first of all what is the status of the Fleet?”

“Sir we have seventy-two carriers currently at sea and fully spun up ready for operations. Fourty-nine Battleships, two Dreadnoughts, five hundred and thirty one submarines, and nearly two thousand cruisers, destroyers, frigates and patrol boats. We are in good shape.” This answer came from Grand Admiral Fergusson who read them from a piece of headed paper which he then replaced in his top pocket. He continued.

“We are prepared to give them a major headache Sir. For Amphib assets I will hand you over to Marshal Henderson.”

“Thank you Jack. I currently have the assets to put a Light Marine Corps ashore just about anywhere in the world. With a deep water port we have the capability to sea lift an entire Army Group within a reasonable time scale.”

The President responded to this. “Very well. Jonathon what shape is the Airforce in if we have to slog this one out?”

“Sir we have the assets for a prolonged campaign. If we do go to Zarbia’s defence then I will ask for permission to stage assets out of Abrams to establish forward bases in Zarbia as per the plan for Operation Twist Relief, with the necessary alterations for implementation in Zarbia. We look forward to having carrier-bourne backup for that phase of the operation.” a nod to the Fleet Admiral commanding 3rd Fleet who had been given that task “Also in accordance with Operation Twist Relief we can have the XVI Airbourne Corps transported to, and operating in, Zarbia within ten days of the go-order. Supply will have to mainly revolve around indigenous assets at that point.”

“Very well General. I’m not sure how much warning you will have to initiate Operation Zarbian Relief, but I’ll warrant that my speech just then was the first time that they heard they will be getting Hitmen troops if Guffingford attacks. Last but by no means least, Field Marshal what is the state of the Army.”

“Ground Forces are largely handicapped in this area as you know Sir. All but three of my divisions are based within our borders and the Navy has the assets to only transport an Army Group at a time. Whilst that is a hell’ava lot of combat power, it won’t hold up a large force such as Guffingford for too long. I’m afraid that until I get enough divisions in theatre this will be a mainly Air and Sea affair.”

“Overall then Gentlemen, are we in a position to issue a guarantee to Zarbian Independence and resist Guffingford aggression?”

At this there were looks around the table. Principally from the Army Generals who could play little part in any such guarantee unless the other commanders present got enough of their tanks and men into any potential battlefield. It was up to Field Marshal Mathers to take the answer.

“Training wise we are their equal if not slightly superior. Our forces are entirely volunteer based and so whilst not as numerous are probably better motivated with better overall morale. Guffingford will be highly motivated to protect their territory and most likely regain that they regard as lost to Zarbia. We can make no definite guess as to what their morale would be in a long drawn out war, neither can we make that assumption of our civilian morale. Equipment wise they are slightly superior with their tanks and armoured carriers, our doctrine is probably better although that has never been tested on such a large scale. Our Navy and Airforce both have extremely good equipment especially with the improvements that we have made since the last time that major hostilities were threatened. Our doctrine for those two is also good, and our commanders are confident that we can ensure a favourable outcome to any conflict with equal numbers.”

“Good. But it could be better. Tom get on the phone, we want to try and ensure a diplomatic solution, but you know Guffingford. My position is difficult, we cannot offer any sacrifices to ensure peace, the Senate would have my balls as a trophy if I tried, not that I want to. But we must try to persuade them out of this course of action.”

The Secretary of State took his que and left the room to his office to begin frantic negotiations.

“Mr President, a famous philosopher once said ‘Only the dead have seen the end of war’”

That comment from the Secretary of Defence generated a laugh from the President.

“And so I fear he is correct. Field Marshal you have permission for the callup of Reservists and National Guard that we spoke of earlier. Send out a war warning to all commands and put all installations on DEFCON 2. I want every serviceable ship put to sea as soon as possible. Lets not get caught with our pants down.” he turned to Air General Holles, commander of the 4th AirForce, and the most senior Air General present.

“General you may initiate Operation Zarbian Relief if Tom gets permission for it. Gentlemen we will reconvene in two hours. Thank you.

And so the meeting finished. Within minutes the secure telephone lines from the New White House were burning as orders went out. At IH bases throughout the world guards changed from their ceremonial guard clothes into combat fatigues and picked up their Assault Rifles. At National Guard Armouries across the country phones started ringing informing the commands of their various new roles. As well as this a pre-programmed email system began sending emails to specific reservists, mainly AirForce and specialist army units such as engineers, to report to their posts as they had just been called into active service.

For the twenty second time since its founding the USIH looked like it was going to war.

The Macabees

22-12-2005, 00:24

[OOC: Hopefully, we can direct all OOC traffic here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=441413). And, IH and Stevid, depending on where you guys centralize naval traffic you'll probably have a few naval encounters with me as well - not that it's a bad thing. The more the merrier! Sorry about the OOC; IC response after I get done with all the Passion Play stuff - which this is a part of, in case any future contestants weren't aware.]

Zarbia

22-12-2005, 03:39

First Encounter

Captain Rodrigo Péron cursed under his breath as he pushed his way past overgrown vegetation, his heavy black boots crushing dry leaves underfoot. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a filthy hand before pressing on, trying hard to ignore the vicious insects and intense heat. One could lose themselves easily here, in the wild jungles of Zarbia where there was no order. No civilization either, save for a few small towns and villages scattered about. Péron and his men had passed a little settlement a few miles back where they had been able to fill up their canteens but since then they had been on their own.

The captain took a quick glance behind him at the uniformed soldiers following him, tired and losing patience but loyal until the very end, all three hundred of them. With reports of Guffingfordian military activity in eastern Zarbia, command had ordered them out here on a reconnaissance mission. At least that was the official title of the assignment. Caught unprepared, the Zarbian government was now struggling to pull together a force capable of fighting off the invaders. In the meantime, small groups such as Péron's had been deployed, basically serving as meat for the Guffingfordian meatgrinder. Still, Péron and his company moved on, fully aware of the dangers they faced but motivated by a deep love of their country.

Captain Péron stopped suddenly, dropping to his knees and motioning for his men to stay silent. After a few quiet moments, he inched forward slowly, squinting his eyes to see past the thick foliage. Indeed his eyes and ears had served him well, he could see the camoflauged uniform of the enemy troops ahead! They had made it quite far into Zarbia, though not entirely surprising considering the complete lack of resistance they had faced. Now, however, the intruders would be given a proper greeting, the typical Zarbian reception for those were unwanted. Contact was about to occur, igniting the flame that would set an entire nation on fire...

The Macabees

22-12-2005, 05:04

[OOC: c&p from the other thread.]

The sole Macabee diplomatic attaché in Zarb [City] watched as the triple team of Zarbian diplomats walked into his enameled office. He was unperturbed and failed to give the slightest hint of being nervous, quite proper to his character, and he ever so slowly opened his mouth to greet the entourage of personnel, "Please, take a seat. I would offer you some coffee or tea but I fear that there is not much time for petty conversations.'

One of the Zarbians waved it all off and retorted, "Just give us what you were told to give. Perhaps, one day, we will see each other at peace again. Hopefully, it will be one where your capital is not crushed under the heel of Zarbian military might."

The Macabee man gave a short laugh and responded, "Yes, well, only fate will tell in the end, no?" He reached for his briefcase and laid it on the oak table to his forefront and flipped the locks open. He snatched out six sheets of white paper and gave to each man in front of him two. He finished the conversation with, "I assure you that by the time you're done reading this document I will be long gone. Hopefully, Zarbia has a bit of etiquette left in its politics and will allow my staff to leave your country unharmed. If not, oh God, do I pray on the souls of your people."

He closed the briefcase, stood up, adjusted his tie, and left the room. Two guards standing outside promptly closed it, without locking the door, and the one diplomat stopped in his footsteps to hear, with quite a bit pleasure, "Dear God, they had declared war."[/i] With that, the attaché continued striding down the hallway and then to the elevator. This latter machine took him to the roof of the embassy, where a civilian helicopter was already spinning its rotors. The Zarbian air control had already been warned of several helicopter flights from the embassy to the international airport, where a Macabee jet passenger airliner would be waiting for the diplomat and ninety-nine other officials. The guards would stay in the embassy until the end, and they would surrender; hopefully, the Zarbians would give them safe passage to the Macabee frontlines - if not, they would end up in a prisoner camp ... or worse yet, executed.

But to them the horror of that would not even be one-tenth of the horror experienced by the three Zarbians in the man's office, and then the horror expressed by the Zarbian administration, and finally, the horror which would have to be endured by those poor Zarbian personnel guarding the frontiers. We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds; our planet is the mental institution of the universe. - Johann von Goethe

Declaration of War to Zarbian Government
Exactly forty-eight hours ago an ultimatum was issued to the Zarbian government, where upon the Golden Throne presented the Zarbians with quite enticing, and should we mention fit for the crime, guidelines to devolve Zarbia back into the state of neutrality. These included the cession of Zarbian Sarcanza to the Empire, and the complete halt on Zarbian and Havenite supplies flowing into Imperial Sarcanza. Unfortunately, the Zarbian administration has flung our ultimate back into our faces, establishing it as 'blatant lies and propaganda'. We will not, for one minute, allow for such a barefaced insult! For years, even under the reign of my grandfather, I have witnessed a constant and devoted attempt to undermine Imperial power in Sarcanza. For once, the Empire is threatened by multiple foes and characteristically Zarbia takes the chance to capitalize on the situation. I, Fedor I, will not stand for such diatribe - not now, not ever. Not only have you refused the words of the King of kings, but you have spent your forty-eight hours latent in your luxurious palaces.

So, let this be the historic day in which the Empire finally unsheathes its sword against an enemy so vile, so evil, and so Machiavellian. I, Fedor I, speaking for my Empire, declare unconditional war on the Military Junta of Zarbia. May finally the sword of Arádia, ancient god of war, strike down upon those that seek harm over the holiest of all Empires. And should his goal seem elusive, may the forsaken find the path, for no goal can escape for too long. With the help of the immortals, no matter the sin I have cast over myself for claiming the vigilance of multiple deities in the face of the sold God, my grandfather and I have struck down foe after foe, unperturbed by resisting forces. It is now your turn, Zarbia, to feel the martial brawn of the Golden Throne.

Cower. Bend. Cry for your mercy. It shall not be given. You have pulled a string too many; walked too far across that intangible line. And finally, to offer you some sort of consolidation, in advance of your pending debâcle - although, rather inversely quoted - for those about to fight, I salute you. May God be on your side and not mine, for only his force will be able to put an end to my rampage.

Fedor I
http://www.nationmaster.com/wikimir/images/upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/f/f5/180px-Emperor_charles_v.png

Guffingford

22-12-2005, 11:19

After the reputed "attack".

Hoogenbosch Berig - Web Edition
Last update: 17 minutes ago

WAR!

DECLERATION OF WAR DELIVERED TO ZARBIA AFTER BRUTAL ATTACK ON GUFFINGFORDIAN SOLDIERS - rumors of a massacre among peasants and explorers, Guffingfordian troops caught by surprise - Parliament outraged

Windhoek, TODAY -- Yesterday happenings on the Guffingfordian-Zarbian border rocked the nation, shocking and appalling many citizens and politicians alike. When news reached the city of Windhoek - from where we report this story - the government in Hoogenbosch decided without any opposition, or opposition from the left bloc in the parliament to declare a state of war between the Hanseatic League of Guffingford and the Military Junta of Zarbia, fulfilling its obligations towards The Macabees.

Stories of the massacre range from a few random murders to a mass slaughter. People were in panic or didn't want to make a statement, because "they were sure to get us soon". The Zarbian assassins were part of a deathsquad to lower the morale of the Guffingfordian troops present in the area, but they have not succeeded. Nobody knows yet what exactly happened over there, but further investigation will let truth be spoken out loud.

When government officials were asked to comment on Stevid's pledge of support to Zarbia, as well as Independent Hitmen's, their official stance was "no comment". It is sure Imperial Armies will be dragged to war soon. We will keep you updated on this story.

Hoogenbosch
The Cabinet of the Ministry of State

"Excellent job men, this should put a damper on most political support to Zarbia. I reckon this will deal a severe blow to there morale. Those fools will probably say it is propaganda, but in light of the recent criticism we've allowed to be printed in the Hoogenbosch Berig, they might doubt the propaganda value of it." Said Maximillian Kalba, the minister of state of Guffingford.

"Definitely, tomorrow we'll send a camera crew and some scouts to that sector, murder some Zarbians and send some new expeditions into Zarbia. We will retake what is ours." Replied one of his most trusted advisors.

"Alright, but do not overdo blood and gore. Make it sick, but not something people cannot handle. I want realism here, not sensation. But there's one big thing bothering me."

"Which is Mr. Kalba?"

"Those morons of Stevid! They think we fear their petty and pathetic navy! How long have we awaited to consolidate our power to the east, and by God we shall not fail. Their ships are outdated, old and miserable. Same for Independent Hitmen. They think our annual 113 trillion is a made up figure by our propaganda machines. Let us prove them wrong."

Kriegorgrad

22-12-2005, 16:15

Fedorgrad, Havenic Mainland Kriegorgrad

The group sat around the table. The table around which Kriegorgrad and her colonies spun. The table where matters of the Oligarchy were decided. Shrouded in shadow the oligarchs conversed, quick-fire speech going to and fro – controlled debate; a rare occasion for the Kriegos leadership. There was some dispute but the overwhelming majority agreed that war was the way forward. It was the usual story, the proles were starting to think and the middle class party members were already conspiring: living standards were too high for the state’s own good. Here and there, a village or town would declare independence before being crushed by the fist of the Oligarchs dubbed the Ordos Fedor.

However, the fact that any rebellion existed at all worried the leadership greatly, and it was rather unanimously agreed that a conflict must be sought out for Kriegorgrad to participate in. One such conflict was found. The escalating situation between Guffingford and Zarbia has sparked the interest of the Collective Oligarchy, and after summing up the pros and cons, Zarbia had been elected to be Kriegorgrad’s enemy. What other way can one lower living standards? Bullets don’t feed people, shells don’t clothe people and men being sent to foreign lands to die for their country certainly doesn’t amuse people. It was settled.

{::Establishing Uplink::}
{::Procuring Broadband Channel::}
{::Open Channel Procured::}

Type of Communiqué: Military
To: Guffingfordii Leadership
From: The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov
Subject: Zarbian Filth

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

”We have heard of the atrocities committed by Zarbian soldiers and we wish we could say it came as a surprise, but we’ve had encounters with the dogs before, they’ve caused Kriegorgrad and her people much grief. However, this isn’t our only motivation for war with the dogs, not only are we willing to aid you against Zarbian aggression but we’re interested in this because we want to hunt down the old dictator; Kriegor Zan Varr.

Vile, evil, horrific man must be dragged out and be made to to pay for his crimes. He can’t die happy, that will be unbearable for the noble people of Kriegorgad. Please, let us aid you in your war, we shan’t disappoint.“

Yours Sincerely,

The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov

{::Closing Uplink::}

Kriegorgrad, as usual with wars, was ablaze with activity. Factories worked overtime, warehouses that hadn’t seen like in a decade were opened and dusty crates cracked open to spill their war-related treats. Girls and women were drafted into the factories, while fathers and sons prepared to fight shoulder-to-shoulder against the evil Zarbians, who, Fedorenkov assured them, ate Kriegos children and stole babies away from their cribs. Such evil could not be allowed to endure! Trucks and tanks dominated the roads and highways, railroads were clogged full of soldiers aboard trains going to the coastal urban centres and the great fleets waiting while rusted ships sat in their ports, dockworkers running to-and-fro laden down with ammunition, food and other materials as food-stores were opened up and grain meant for the civilians was diverted to the war effort instead.

All this was reflected in the newspapers, of course, in its normally biased-beyond-belief light, the cheap, flimsy paper and the poor quality of the print didn’t diminish the lies or message one ounce. Things were quite clear...However; it seemed that the North and South had slightly varying stories.

Fedor’s Voice

War with the Deviants!

Death to the rapists and paedophiles! March onwards Fedor’s soldier! His hand will guide your blows and shelter you! Dealing death and saving life! Praise to the Comrade Leader!

Earlier today, our glorious Comrade Leader informed us of the atrocities committed in the south by Zarbian soldiers. Women were raped, men scalped and children cooked in pots! Savages! And following these barbaric actions, the Kriegos people, as one, rose up against these vile invaders at Nikolai Fedorenkov’s word, we swept them from our land like a man swatting a fly! However, as the Comrade Leader himself said, “The enemy is not crushed until they are all dead! Each and every one of them!”

Following his rousing words, war was declared on the barbarians cowering in their hot, vile land and the nation is aflame with righteous anger, soldiers are being sent to the coastal cities to join the grand fleets, waiting to ferry them off to deal death to the foul deviants that make up the Zarbian ranks. It is said that pre-emptive strikes have already been made by Ordos Fedor forces and that much of the Zarbian defence grid lies in ruins!

More on the war as it comes in…

Stevid

22-12-2005, 16:25

The Stevidian Times

It has been brought to the attention of the Time today that the Government of Stevid has now declared a state of war on the two nations of Guffingford and the Maccabees. The government only just recently issued a press statement to the state of Guffingford after they moved troops to their northern border saying if they attacked and war broke out between Guffingford and the allied nation of Zarbia, then Stevid would stand by Zarbia.

This swift declaration of war got the go ahead from the 95% majority of the Government when in session earlier today. This declaration of war also follows the growing tensions between the former allies Stevid and Guffingford. Other nations and the media have recently called Guffingford a threat to world peace but never to the extent that Stevid was to break their long alliance with them.
Then only recently, Guffingford made a pass towards the neutral waters to the West of Stevid half way across the sea, which contains a large seabed of oil. This black gold is worth millions to both nations and both claim they need it more than the other. Negotiations continue between both nations over the oil but both nations continue to mine the oil legally where the oil field crosses over into each other’s territorial waters.
This growing tension has been going on since the Feline Catfish incident that happened many, many months ago when Stevid and Guffingford had mixed opinions on the situation. Since then- diplomatic relations between the two governments have slowly deteriorated into nothing more than a sand wall rather than a solid concrete one.

Both nations have signed treaties to defend each other but also have made commitments to the other nations to which they are now defending in the interests of their “National Dignity”. Guffingford has made no secret of their new military budget and military innovations that Stevid has attempted to match time and time again- Scientist in Stevid have only just managed to grasp hold of and understand the mechanics behind the Diamond armour protection Guffingford has slaved on for many years.
Stevid has time and again pressurized the Guffingford military body to halt this military expansion- but Gufingfordii authorities have made no move as to do so, thus increasing the likelihood that Stevid and Guffingford would go to war.

That time seems to have arrived.

The nation of Independent Hitman has also vowed to take the side of Zarbia and Stevid by standing the same ground as Stevid does, saying that “Guffingford is a threat to international security and a threat to world peace.
There is also talk of another nation joining the fray on the Maccabees side.

All available Stevid armed forces are being thrown into this conflict, including the dreaded 5th Fleet of the Royal Navy. The fact that the 5th Fleet and two other powerful fleets, and millions of men, and hundreds of aircraft are being sent to fight the opposition in Zarbia makes this look like a war that will cost the lives of billions of military personnel and citizens.

The government has told the population of Stevid that they have looked for an alternative and found none- conflict has already broken out in Maccabees and Zarbia, and Stevid has an obligation to defend Zarbia to the last man.

Independent Hitmen

22-12-2005, 16:26

The New White House, J City
Central Independent Hitmen

Field Marshal Mathers ran every morning. At fifty two he was youngish enough that he didn’t pant too hard, but old enough to know that he should stop soon. His running partners were a pair of Captains from his Intelligence Staff, both were only in their early twenties and had been recruited when the Armed Forces began swelling after the Isolation.

As Mathers ran he reflected on his career, a process that was rudely interrupted by a pair of HMMWV’s coming flying down the road in front of him. The lead one screeched to a halt on the gravel, its wheels locking as it did so, and stopped several feet in front of Mathers. A figure bounded out of the front seat whom he recognised as his Intelligence Chief, Brigadier Henson. Without even a salute the Brigadier started talking.

“Sir its started. Guffingford and Macabee have declared war on Zarbia. Satellite passes show Guffingford troops well into Zarbian territory, and Zarbia is stretched thin.”

“Shit. They started already. To the CP as fast as you can. Go.”

Mathers and his two running partners quickly jumped into the HMMWV which didn’t even wait for them to close the doors before it was accelerating and bumping and bounding over the uneven road surface.

Five minutes later he was in an elevator taking him down towards the underground bunker complex that made up the main Army Command and Control Facility under the Hetches Mountain Range, 10 kilometres from the outskirts of J City. Another minutes and he emerged into a concrete corridor that seemed to be filled with men in uniform. Most of them saw the Field Marshal and moved to the sides, allowing him a clear way through towards the main control centre, 30 floors down from the surface. He entered still dressed in his running clothes.

“Report.”

“Morning Sir. The President is on his way to an emergency session of congress to seek a declaration of war on Guffingford, after that he is being flown here. We have Airbourne radar coverage of the whole Western Coast to supplement our ground radar stations. Gillen and PortHaven have emptied of all sea worthy Navy vessels and they are establishing a perimeter 100miles out to sea from the coast. So far no reports of any Guffingford ships or similar in the area. A new War Warning was sent to all commands four minutes ago, and the President has ordered that we prepare to go to DEFCON-1 within the hour.”

“Christ its real. What are the Snooper birds telling us?”

“Our satellites over Guffingford and Zarbia are giving us good overheads, and we are intercepting a lot of ELINT stuff. Only problem is breaking the encryption they have on it, the SIGINT guys are promising some breakthroughs on that.”

“Dammit this happened too fast. We haven’t even got permission from Stevid or Zarbia to bring assets into their countries, we need Zarbian permission before we can start negotiations with SafeHaven to allow our transport aircraft to overfly them! Bloody landlocked nation. And to top it all 2nd Fleet is still quite exposed out there at the fore; they can’t be more than a thousand miles from Guffingford.”

“Yes Sir. Admiral McWalter has increased his flight operations in accordance with our guidelines sent yesterday. He will be at a full war footing now I would think”

IHS New Hampshire, New England Class Fleet Carrier.
Flagship of the 2nd Fleet, 1000 Miles South of Port Huyzen, 400miles West of the Disputed Territory south of Theohuanacu

Fleet Admiral James McWalter commanded a large force. He had nine carriers currently under his command that carried 1205 fixed wing aircraft.

In this group along with the Flagship was the Heavy Strike Carrier Fearsome and the Strike Carrier Isomer along with the Battleships Orion and Aires. The group was escorted by four Guided Missile Cruisers, nine Guided Missile Destroyers and fifteen Frigates. Beneath the waves infront of the force were five Los Angeles Class 688I SSN’s, each covering a ten mile box.

The second group that composed the majority of 2nd Fleet consisted of the Strike Carrier Ocean and the Standard Carriers Repulse, Rodney, Revenge, Ramillies and Renown They were escorted by nine Guided Missile Cruisers, Fifteen Destroyers and twenty one frigates.

The third group was centred around the Iowa battleship Slater and had a pair of Guided Missile Cruisers, five destroyers and half a dozen frigates. This group was also guarding 2nd Fleets auxiliary supply ships, 5 Fleet Oilers, 3 Ammunition ships, 4 Supply Ships and a single hospital ship.

No group was more than thirty miles from each other, which meant that they could concentrate their aircraft on any threat that may appear. The ships had their powerful radars in standby mode and were taking information from five E-2CI Hawkeye’s that were up above the various formations. With the Hawkeye’s were twenty two F-22S Sea Raptors whilst every other aircraft in the formation was on five minute launch alert on the flight decks, with the exception of those on New Hampshire whose flight deck was not big enough to cope with all of the 350 aircraft that the ship carried in her three hangar decks at once. To clear the deck once the alert was received would take half an hour for her.

Currently the fleet sailed under no emissions in a simple patrol station, sailing from one side of the channel to the other being careful to not come within 50miles of any of the Islands dotted around this part of the world.

Guffingford

22-12-2005, 17:05

This is secret IC.

Hoogenbosch, Guffingford
Vrystaat Rooi-Nassau

"Damnit! Where's that rat Blouff when you need him? Whores and beer in Amsterdam, poor bugger. Who do we have?" The President asked all of his most trusted and decorated commanders to step forward. There they stood, the most respected men of the Guffingfordian Army.

"General Ponce DeMilión, you are of Portuguese decent. Which is good, since Zarbians are mostly Spanish. Your main task is to lead the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Armies into Zarbia. Be very careful, their jungle is almost as treacherous as the Panoolian. I want you to be supported by the Kaiserliche Artillery Brigades, you will meet with them near Änglenbach. Go now, and report every day to me."

"Of course Milord!"

Captain Max Merriwether Dafydd. I remember hearing about you from the days before we started building our naval forces. You seem a promising man to me, and according to our satellite datafeeds a fairly large fleet, or multiple smaller fleets of Independent Hitmen are currently sailing around the southern disputed area's of Theohuanacu. Go there and leave no one alive. You will take your 11th, 12th, 13th and 14th fleets and heavy artillery flotillas with you. Attack them by surprise, take them from behind."

"Yes Sir."

"Captain Lorgan Vimes. Although you have said to me countless times you are retired from the Hanseatic Marine Shipping, I think you are best suited for this specific job. I want you to support the Kriegos Navy with various attacks they are going to do. I know their boats aren't the best stuff afloat, but with our technological support and money, it's possible to make them a bit better. Do it. Now."

"Yes Sir." There were a few others but less important to mention here, and now we're displacing ourselves to the upper north of Guffingford, where no one less than the leader of the Liberal Party of Guffingford, Mr. Jack Lee was preparing himself to organise a raid into Zarbia. One holster under each armpit, pistols loaded and his watertight jungle boots on, he waited for his gang.

"Just like the ol' days" He said when he saw his men walking down the path from the camp. "My friends, colleagues, adventurers, this is going to be like the things our national heroes Ed Rappen and Xaviero Guerra did over a hundred years ago. We will go into Zarbian territory this night, under the cloak of darkess and we will find and harass the local population. This is not going to be the official mission which was announced by our President. We do not have camera's, video equipment or audio things. This mission is organised by me, and endorsed by the local administration. Not that Hoogenbosch cares about it, though."

This isn't secret IC.

Hoogenbosch Berig

DECLERATION OF WAR ISSUED TO ROYAL NAVY OF STEVID - "THEIR INTERFERENCE WITH OUR BUSINESS HAS PASSED THE BOILING POINT. WE WILL TAKE WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY GIVEN TO US BY GOD"

DECLERATION OF WAR DELIVERED TO STEVID AFTER CONTINUED SUPPORT TO ZARBIA - Men and women protest against Stevid in various large cities in Guffingford - Molotov cocktails thrown at Stevid's Embassy building, Hoogenbosch - Parliament called for emergency meeting.

Hoogenbosch, TODAY -- In a most surprising....

The Daily Telegraph

WAR AGAINST STEVID: CONSCRIPTION BEING A LIKELY REALITY: CITIZENS MARCH AGAINST STEVID IN CAPITAL CITY: ANTI-BRITISH SENTIMENT INCREASING

Anti-British sentiment reaches all new heights, so says the social and cultural office in Redmound. People are increasingly anti-British, which makes sense after Stevid's ongoing nanny like bickering about our foreign and national policies.

Gloucterbury says: "we have nothing to do with this. We do not endorse war by fellow British on sovereign Guffingfordian soil..."

Hoogenbosch Finansieel

Guffingford shifts from regular Gulden to finance war engine to more powerful and potent gold backed Dukaat Gulden.

To finance the upcoming war efforts, the Minister of Economic Affairs, Mr. Rudyard Sweet has decreed that the gulden (citizen's currency) can only be used for food and necessary goods purchases. Major purchases must be done in the Dukaat Gulden, to empower the Guffingfordian war economy. The 100% gold backed economy now has little problems dealing with...

Kriegorgrad

22-12-2005, 17:36

Independent Human Satellite Orbitting Earth

“Roger that Archangel’s Sword, we’ll take the other satellites. It’s already been agreed which ones are bagged by Guffingfordii naval units and which ones are ours.”

The radio waves carried the proletarian accents of the captains across the inky gloom of space between the two brutal grey shapes, if there was no red star on the side of the Liberator (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=434037) class star ship, then one would assume it was a particularly ugly orbital space station, but seeing as the red star was there, it was obviously used for war. And back to the current series of events…

“Yes…Easy…Hold it, that’s it, I’m long in Archangel, I’m good.”

”Alright, good luck and fuck up that satellite proper good, right?”

Of course, when Captain Jacobson said locked in, he meant his ship’s rail guns had a target. Seconds later after the computer systems calculated the trajectory – not too hard when there’s no gravity – the six rail guns swivelled with a muted whine of motors to confront the Independent Human satellite, nanoseconds later, the Liberator class vessel, the Fedor’s Hammer, rocked ever so slightly as six slugs roared through space and smashed into the side of the satellite, was followed was a few seconds of protest, ended by a series of crippling, blinding explosions. No one ever said Kriegos methods were subtle or delicate, but they got the job done, as could be proven by the fact that the hi-tech satellite was now but a few messy chunks of debris locked in orbit around earth.

While Archangel’s Sword and Fedor’s Fist were busy systematically annihilating the IH satellite network, other groups in the Proletarian Starfleet followed a different path…

”Alright, easy now, I’m close… Yes… I’m in!”

The call was tinged with middle class intellect, a smart man and well raised, he was obviously doing something a tad more subtle than the proletarian captains with their rail gun strikes. The ‘oligarchonaut’ - the jumped up and distinctly Kriegos title for astronaut - scorched metal with his welding kit, white hot flame slowly but surely burnt the metals back after some protest, the square of ostracized alloys was ripped out and left to wonder about in space. The ‘oligarchonaut’s’ hand descended into the hole left by the clean cut of molten metal, a few minutes of frenzied wrestling with the well-made satellite’s systems and it was done. A few faulty images were inserted and the feed was disrupted… Well kind of. It sent images back to the source intended by the Independent military but it sent them the wrong images.

Kriegos are rather crafty in war.

Fedor’s Voice
Epic Space Battles!

Sweeping Kriegos victory! The Proletarian Starfleet engaged IH space-forces and annihilated them in one fell-swoop! Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov smiles upon his divine soldiers!

The battle took place just earlier today and it was Kriegos star ships up against a fleet ten times its size, but against all odds, the Collective Oligarchy’s forces out-gunned the cowardly IH dogs! It seems that the war, while it will be lengthy, will be one easily won as all that oppose Kriegorgrad’s mighty armies are cowards and half-soldiers!

May the Comrade Leader’s divine light guide us all in the following times of conflict and victory!

Stevid

23-12-2005, 00:01

Stevid Capita

Prime Minister David Conroy sat at his polished oak desk in his office. He looked refreshed and in a good mood to the untrained eye, but in fact he wasn’t. He hadn’t slept in two days and most certainly wasn’t in a good mood. Only his closest advisors, the cabinet and the committee had noticed. They weren’t surprised by this at all, any one who had had a friend for many years and then suddenly weren’t friends any more would have been naturally devastated by the event, this was no different apart from the fact that the whole nation was on the line.
Conroy was thinking over the past, present and future. This was the first major close to home war Stevid had been directly involved in since the Holy Panooly Civil War and that was nothing compared to this war. This was going to be huge, every military personnel was to be used, no matter how insignificant their position was. The economy of the country was to be almost completely redirected towards funding the war effort. The Guffingford War Machine was a direct threat to Stevid- the nation had never been this close to the fighting- never had been directly threatened by long-range attackers such as the ones Guffingford possessed.

This was total war- almost the whole North Western Quadrant of Imperial Armies had been engulfed into this war. Nations outside the region had been dragged into this war. A war that needn’t be fought, but had to be fought. A war that would quite possibly cost billions of people their lives. The fact that the 5th Fleet had been deployed was a sign to the whole nation that Stevid was intent on taking the fight to the enemy and intent on seeing this war through to the end. A sign the nation was serious about this war.

Conroy sighed and lay back and relaxed in his chair and closed his eyes for more than half a minute. The first time in two days. There was a knock on the door that awoke Conroy with a start.
“Yes… Yes come in…” he said in confusion. Admiral Sir Alan West, First Sea Lord of the Royal Navy, entered the room holding a folder underneath his left arm. He usual entered with a smile on his face, for he was a friendly and pleasant man to be around, this time however he didn’t. His face carried the slightest hint of a frown and he didn’t even try to pick up a smile on his face. He stopped in front of the Prime Minister and stood to attention, saluted politely, and then stood at ease.
“Good morning Prime Minister.”
“Hello Alan. Tis indeed a morning, alas not a good one. What do have for me my good man?”
“A report sir on our forces assembling at the current moment in time. I have for you a report on the Navy. The 5th Fleet, as you know, has been on constant extended readiness for the past five years. So they are ready to go now, in fact I think they’ve already left port. The 3rd and 8th Fleets are still getting the last things put on board before setting off. I’ve recalled the 1st Fleet from it’s anti-terrorist operations in the Sudan and they’ll arrive in a few days at maximum speed and weather permitting.”
“Good…I guess. Is there anything else Admiral?”
“Yes. I’m sure you’ve seen the papers?”
“Yeah I have. Is the embassy okay?”
“Suffered outside fire damage and two rooms were burned to a crisp. The decorators are working on it. And a detachment of twenty Royal Marines has been set to defend it if anything should happen again.”
“Anything else Alan?”
“Well the Chief Air Marshal of the RAF is waiting outside.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to speak about our first course of action.”

Conroy sighed again and leaned forward in his chair and pressed the intercom button on his desk.
“Dorothy, said in the Air Marshal would you please? Thank you.”
The oak door open and in walked the Chief Air Marshal. Under the current international circumstances, his face looked the way the Admirals usual was. He came in with half a smile and had some colour in his face.
“Good morning Prime Minister!”
“Good morning James…Now, Alan told me that you were thinking of a early strategy to use against Guffingford before a ground war ensues.”
“Aye sir!”
“Please take a seat, both of you.”

Both men sat down in the provided chairs before the PM. The Admiral crossed his legs and the Air Marshal with drew a document and held it open before him as he began to talk.

“Prime Minister- war is upon us- what is done is done. We have lost a former ally. The fact that they were an ally must be ignored and we have to consider them an enemy and deal with them accordingly.”
“Go on.”
“The ground war will be bloody. Softening up the enemy just a small bit will make our lives easier as well as our allies. I intend to use long-range bombers to attack the strongest part of Guffingford’s front line and soften it up. I intend to target enemy armour and artillery- not infantry.”
“Guffingford’s front line is a long way from here- what shall we do about escorts? What type of bombers?”
“Vulcan bombers sir.”
“Vulcan’s! Gosh…are you sure?”
“Trust me sure these aren’t the cold war relics, these are about as modern as the latest long range bomber. They’ve under gone extensive refits. A squadron of Thirty-five bombers escorted by land based Tornado F3’s and F-22 Raptors will take off and converge at the fridge of our waters. They will be escorted by the air-superiority fighters to their maximum range and then they will turn and head back home.”
“That will only get them twenty miles inside Guffingford airspace. What then?”

The admiral cut in at this point, opening his own folder.

“A naval task force- a small of course. Three CVF carriers, eight T-45 Destroyers, five T-88 Cruisers and a classified number of submarines. The destroyers will provide the best fleet air cover you can expect. The Subs and cruisers anti-ship capability, and the carriers will provide the rest of the escort. Each CVF holds thirty-five F-35 JSF aircraft. Over all that’s one hundred and five aircraft. Seventy of those will escort the bombers to Guffingford while the other thirty-five will defend the fleet. The seventy aircraft will harass the Guffingfordii air force and ground and naval anti-aircraft sites while the bombers infiltrate as far inland as possible. The aircraft will return back to the carriers to re-fuel.”
“So far so good. But what after that?”
“That is the bad part of the plan sir.” Said the Air Marshal. “For about one hundred and twelve miles thereafter we have no escorts for the bombers. None at all, they’ll be on their own for about half an hour before they come into the range of allied aircraft from Zarbia and/or Independent Hitmen. From there they will provide air cover for the remaining Vulcan bomber craft. The bombing run will commence and the mission will be complete.”

The PM took all this in and nodded calmly.
“Sounds good, but how do you know your targets?”
“That’s the beautiful thing about the Vulcan’s refit. It has the most advance infrared targeting systems, passive and active sensors and has a direct uplink to Stevid spy satellites in space that will find armour and relay the target’s position on the globe to the Vulcan. All they have to do is match their course accordingly and then they press the button. Target immediately destroyed.”
“How do the bombers get home?”
“They don’t…”
“What!! I’m not pointlessly sending men to their deaths!”
“No sir. I mean they will land at a safe air field in Zarbia and make their way home later in the week. Saves us worrying about it and gives the fleet time to get themselves back into Stevid waters in time for them to join their own designated fleets.
Well there it is sir. What do you think?”

Conroy sat there stunned. He didn’t know what to say- it was as if they knew what to do before the war had even happened. He looked at the folder the Chief Air Marshal was holding… it was red.

“This is a Red Cabinet Folder File job isn’t it James?”
“Yes sir. Folder #012548. We came up with this strategy two days after Guffingford and Stevid became allies. Since then we have sent bombers over Guffingford to allied airfields in Guffingford along the same route we’d take for this bombing run. We can do it over sixteen different routes and all in record time. It will work.”
“It is a bold plan. But it has my approval. Do what must be done…[[Sigh]] Dismissed.”

The Admiral and Air Marshal stood and saluted before exiting the room leaving Conroy lying back in his chair, snoozing in the morning sun.

Guffingford

23-12-2005, 11:06

This is secret IC

70 Miles East of Bloupaarl
High Security Facility

"Cabinet members, chiefs of staff, ministers, VIPs welcome." An aging but not old women said. He was handing out coffee cups, glasses for Port or brandy, made of the finest China or crystal available in Guffingford and made everybody feel more comfortable. "...Please have a seat Mr. Sweet, your chair is over there..." A few minutes later, everybody sat down, smoking a Havana or Montecristo cigar and waited.

"Ladies, gentlemen welcome to this top priority meeting. As you all know, our government has wisely declared war on Stevid yesterday. This opens up many new channels from where we can determine our broad matters of policy regarding them. Our best commanders have left for the front, and we are going to listen carefully to what they have to say."

"Yes indeed. Mr. Kalba, over the years our spying divisions have extensively mapped Stevid. A potential conflict has always been likely, but somehow our Corpse Diplomatiqué prevailed diplomatically. Not a problem, it only bought us time. Their open democracy has betrayed much. We have extensive maps of their underground in Stevid Capita, their capital city. We have good hints where secret naval bases are located, as well as many ones in the horribly exposed southern shores of their island nation."

"Thank your Mr. DeFelice. What we need is first strike capabilities. We can of course attack Zarbia first but I just know Kriegorgrad can handle that very nicely. It's obvious those two hate each other enough to let the battle last years, perhaps even decades longer than their economies allow. Stevid is only a problem when their juggernaut gets enough steam. I say cut the boiler down, and crack open their fortresses. The softer parts within may bend a little, but they will break given enough time and pressure."

"So Mr. Kalba" a man interrupted "you're saying that we should attempt a blitzkrieg like war on Stevid?"

"Yes, definitely. And why not? They will never see it coming. When it's too late they will."

"I'm not really sure about the element of surprise in our surprise attack. Their navy may not be the best around compared to ours, but they're not stupid. We may not underestimate any of our adversaries. Ladies and gentlemen please make a note: 'never underestimate the enemy'."

"We can take advantage of our first strike. We have declared war on them, but we need to undermine their resources first. Deny them their precious oil in the Inner Sea fields and then we'll talk again. In the south there's plenty of the black goo available. Knootoss may have gotten a concession for a certain area, but it doesn't mean we can't start exploiting the remainder."

"Excellent reasoning Mr. DeFelice. So, the plan we are now thinking of is going to be like this:
1) Destroy their oil drilling assets on the Inner Sea oil fields.
2) Harass their naval forces, chase them around and make them defocus on the brunt of our forces.
3) Anti-sattelite warfare. Let our field-of-dream classes take those down. Blind them. Deafen them.
4) Fist attack on Stevid's major naval bases. We must use our newest Danzig class plus lots of support for this.
When we have accomplished this, I want to schedule a new meeting. This plan must put into action right away. No delays. Until then, good luck to you all and God bless."

OOC: Stevid you have a telegram

Zarbia

23-12-2005, 18:56

Jungle

Rodrigo Péron sat down heavily on a moss covered log, his fingers loosening the cap on his canteen and pouring the warm water down his throat. The battle had lasted less than twenty minutes but had felt like an eternity. Bodies and bullet casings littered the forest clearing, the grim conclusion of a violent, bloody scene. Péron's company had quietly surrounded their enemy and ambushed them. They caught the men of Guffingford unawares, causing heavy losses and forcing them to retreat. The Zarbians, protected by the element of surprise had fared much better, only losing half a dozen of their number while two sustaining minor injuries.

Péron fumbled for something in his pocket and retrieved a battered pack of cigarettes. Shaking one of them out, he lit it with a spare match and held it to his lips, sucking the smoke into his lungs. He closed his eyes as the smoke left his body, floating away from him towards the green canopy above. Zarbian tobacco was the finest in Imperial Armies, arguably best in the world, and a major part of the country's industry. The young captain finished his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, crushing it with his dirty boot. Soon they would be on the move again, travelling further east

*****

Cidade de Prata

Thin swirls of tobacco smoke drifted slowly to the ceiling of the well furnished conference room, a telltale sign that a government meeting was in order. More specifically, the three man military junta, official governing body of Zarbia, was discussing the current pressing events. The nation had not seen war on her own soil for decades, not since before the Socialist tyrants were deposed and the glorious revolution by the armed forces. The head of the junta, General Armando Cortazar, sat at a broad oak table patiently, surrounded by various ministers, generals, and other military officers.

"We have already raised forty thousand reservists from Monte Claro, with an additional two divisions arriving by train from some of our southern outposts. The Havenites, as always, have proved themselves exceptional allies so we will not need any defenses around their territory." reported Field Marshal Agostinho.

"What of Riptide Monzarc, our neighbor to the north? Has anything been done to keep them out of this war? What is stopping them from jumping in to an already delicate situation?" interjected Cortazar, taking a puff on his thick cigar.

"I have personally written their president a telegram this morning, sir" said Felicio de Oliviera, shrewd minister of foreign affairs. "Our reports say they are not an overly militant nation, we believe they will likely stay neutral."

"Sir, as I informed you earlier, our intelligence agencies have been receiving notice of probable intervention from Kriegorgrad. My guess is that they are still bitter over the harbouring of Zan Varr, their former leader."

"Perhaps, Mr Zapato, we may use him as a bargaining chip?" suggested General Cortazar with a grin. "Of what use to us is a useless, aging dictator?"

The officials around the room went quiet, pondering over this latest idea. If the Kriegos could be kept out of the war, it would be much easier to tackle the Guffingford situation. Along with the pledged aid from Stevid and assistance from Safehaven, the Zarbians could push back all the invaders from their land and possibly even gain some territory for themselves. As the group dove back into talks of war and diplomacy, sunset crept into the region, announcing the end of the first day of armed conflict. Who knew what the morning would bring for the people of Zarbia?

Stevid

23-12-2005, 21:06

Ruebet Airfield

Little was known about this airfield, in fact, even the Chief Air Marshal had struggled to remember where it was. The fact that is was imbedded in a mountain of solid rock was the main factor that it was an unknown airfield. It was also one few airfield Guffingford had no idea existed. Every single man and women that worked there was a pure blooded Stevidian, if anyone were even slightly of another origin then they would be within eighty miles of the base. It was like it’s own little dictatorship-a shadow of the old days of Stevid. It was in this air base where the nuclear attack aircraft were held as well as conventional aircraft of a ranging variety, but the nuclear bombers where the Vulcan’s. 617 Squadron, a well known squadron throughout Stevid and remembered for there heroic action during the war against the Swedish Dominions many years ago before the Conroy Administration. Now they were going to war again. The squadron be sending thirty bombers out of a squadron of sixty and they were determined to see this mission through. The planes would be travelling exceedingly fast at it’s maximum altitude of 40,000 feet, they would go down to earth in flames quite so easily. The jets were in tip-top shape and had taken test flights over Guffingford for this type of mission during peace time- everything was going to go a smooth as custard cream until they reached the outer limits of their escort protection.

Squadron Leader Thomas Dempsey had his crew assembled in the briefing room with an enlarged map of the North Eastern Sector of Imperial Armies, Stevid, Zarbia, Guffingford the Maccabees, could all be seen clearly with cities and towns and known military bases all clearly marked. It was a virtual display board and interactive and so was easier to do the briefing.

“Settle down please men, settle down.” Said Dempsey with a raised voice above the low chatter. “Now, you are all aware of the unfortunate state of affairs our poxy government has got us in, but you are all to do your duty to the fullest. Our first mission during this campaign is to first relieve our allies on the Zarbia-Guffingford front.”
He pressed a button on the screen and the picture on screen zoomed into the front line over Zarbia and Guffingford. Red arrows appeared showing the advancing Guffingfordii infantry and armoured tanks, blue arrows showed an allied counter attack and position of forces during a retreat. A green outline traced over certain area of the Guffingfordii frontline and over a large red square a few miles from the frontline.
“These are your objectives gentlemen. You are to take off from here and to make good time towards Guffingford. The trip to the frontline should take a good couple of hours. All you have to do is fly because you’ll have good escort cover on your journey there. You’ll maintain 40,000 feet until you reach the front line where you will drop to 25,000 feet. These are your possible targets- the ones with the green outline. These targets have already been individually identified and tracked by a number of satellites both Stevidain and allied- they will be sent to your in flight HUD when you reach your destination. Twenty of you have been told to go for those targets and destroy them or at least suppress them to the point where our forces in Zarbia can counter attack the enemy.
“Now, ten of you have been told to go here.” He pointed to the large squared object on the board. “This has been hundred percent identified by Stevidian and Zarbian field secret agents as the forward frontline Guffingfordii GHQ. They are control and directing a few of the forces in this sector- not all but enough units that may be crucial to their attack…this GHQ must be utterly destroyed. I want this turned into smoking ruins- at least a direct hit on those bunkers with bunker penetrating bombs- you’ve all been armed with those might I add. With the command bunkers destroyed, parts of their lines will begin to crumble before they re-organise themselves. It should give our allies time to counter attack and regain some land.”

Everyone was taking notes on what was being said. The green arrows had appeared on the board showing the direction of where they should becoming for the bombing run on the Guffingfordii frontline.

“Questions?”
“Yes,” asked one man near the front with a puzzled look on his face. “Umm, I’ve just done a quick maths calculation on my pad sir to do with fuel. Even with the Vulcan’s upgrades in fuel capacity I’ve calculated that we’ll have enough fuel to get there, do the job, but not enough to get back.”
“That’s correct- we are allies with Zarbia, you’ll have to land at a secure airbase within Zarbia, under escort of course and refuel, then take off again and head back home the long way to avoid un-necessary losses.”
Everyone nodded and understood.

“If that is all? Good- get to your planes, and Good Luck out there- this’ll be a very long and enduring mission. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Everyone got to their feet a started filing out and the low mutter of chatter started again. In the huge hanger stood the massive, sleek, and beautiful Vulcan Bombers, all sixty of them. Thirty had been wheeled outside and had lined up in a perfect line on the tarmac of the runway end. They were fuelled up and ready to go. The last checks were being made of course to make sure there were no unexpected hitches that would surprise them. The runway as bustling with activity- this was the biggest operation that was air based for nearly decade in Stevid.
Up in the control room, that stood out and perched itself on the rock face overlooking the hanger like some sort of viewing platform, was the joint chief of staff that ran the airbase. Also there was the chief air Marshal and all the men that had to co-ordinate the take off.

Control Room

“617 Squadron this Control Room Navigator- picture is clear of civilian and unidentified aircraft. Wind speed three MPH, runway is clear, Vulcan Bombers one through thirty you are cleared for take-off and runways one through five.”
“Roger that Control!”
“617 Squadron: Vulcan Bombers one through six, please taxi to runway one; seven through eleven to runway two .etc.”
“Roger Control.”

It took another hour before they were all lined up behind each other queuing to get in the air. Vulcan One, Thomas Dempsey’s Bomber, was first to leave the ground. One by one the scooped themselves into the clear sky, only the odd high-level blue interrupted the blue sky. They were all in the air in fourteen minutes, and were all at 40,000 in nine minutes after the fourteen.

“This is Squadron Leader Thomas L. Dempsey to all aircraft in the opera- form up into defensive formation Theta-3 and shove your engines to maximum cruising speed. ETA to target- five hours, thirty-six minutes and twenty seconds. Watch synchronisation of to SCMT (Stevid Central Mean Time).
Good Luck Everyone…we’re going to war.”

Kriegorgrad

24-12-2005, 00:55

Thirty Miles outside Fedorgrad

“Well chaps! This is it, the Zarbian devils have thrown down the gauntlet! There are numerous reports from COMSEC that they are indeed mobilising men in numbers and speed.”

The eccentric voice of ‘Comrade General’ Melchett carried across the map of Imperial Armies sprawled out on the wooden table, the table a reflection of Melchett’s old-fashioned office – ornate and opulent, as well as in-keeping with the old traditions of people of status. Already, the massive map had arrows of varying colours, pins and scrawls of writing covering the northern section, rather haphazardly to the misfortune of the intelligentsia of the military surrounding the polished wood table.

“Yes, thought provoking point Melchett…But really, our concerns is the hideous logistical demand for this campaign-“

”Boulderdash…”

The rather reasonable argument from Colonel Heatherfield, commander of the veteran Kazarkian Rifles – a regiment which had seen battle against the Zarbians before – was smashed to bits by Melchett’s lack of rationality and superior rank. Such a barking mad man would’ve never gotten such a rank as supreme commander of ground-based military actions in any other military on earth. But this wasn’t any other military, this was Kriegorgrad’s military, so madness was to be expected.

“…Logistics? Supplies? Bah! Coward talk, a good charge will defeat any foe!”

”Err…Beg my pardon Comrade General, but that isn’t the case any more-“

”Dismissed, Colonel Heatherfield.”

The old colonel thought of protest, it was plain on his face, so was the effort it took for him to contain it but he simply bit his lip, nodded and donned his peaked cap and made for the door while the ‘Comrade General’ continued his barking mad plans for battle against the comparatively highly trained and well equipped Zarbians. This war was looking bad for the youth of Kriegorgrad.

Later that day, the Great Fleet moored at the Coastal City Liverton

“Get that crate up there…No, not like that you miserable bastards!”

The proletarian call pierced the din and clatter of work at the docks, the massive port of Liverton was alive with motion, soldiers running to and fro, desperate to find their allotted ship and officers screaming with their distinctly bourgeoisie accents – the military was very class-based – at the confused troopers. The Proletarian Guard and the Proletarian Marines contrasted each other greatly, the former being a throw-back to World War I Brits and the latter being a throw-back to World War II American soldiers. So long as the antiquity was there, the Kriegos military seemed pleased.

The Proletarian Marines aren’t to be confused with their space-based counterparts, these were simply the soldiers of the wet-navy, despite the misleading interchangeable name, they were vastly different. The marines of the stars used British weaponry, whereas the marines of the sea used American weaponry, albeit 1940’s American weaponry. One could argue that the random change in equipment’s nationality could be laid at the feet of American equipment being better at the task or because it would place more strain on the Collective Oligarchy’s infrastructure – but remember, this is Kriegorgrad where logic is subjective, so who really knows?

Colonel Heatherfield strode up the rickety gangplank, his officer’s staff in tow, resplendent in their beige trousers of the officer class and their peaked caps, red stars sporadically adorning their uniforms – a stark contrast to the more numerous soldiers waiting at the foot of gangplank. The men at the bottom wore tatty clothes but you could tell they hailed from all walks of life, some wore glasses and were chubby cheeked while others were gaunt faced and barely had stubble, that was one thing you couldn’t knock the Proletarian Guard for: diversity. Unless you count ethnicities…Because then you can knock the Guard, due to the fact that the Proletarian Guard is exclusively white, not on the part of racial prejudices but simply because the only ethnicity of Kriegorgrad is Caucasian, which could be partially attributed to the fact that no foreigner would ever want to move to Kriegorgrad, no matter how they complained about their ‘evil’ and ‘corrupt’ Western lifestyle or how hard life is in the factories of whatever communistic dictatorship they lived under.

Heatherfield cast a final look down the gangplank as the grunts started to surge up it, Enfield rifles slung and laden down with equipment, it was truly an image of a bygone era for many nations. Sadly for the people of Kriegorgrad, bygone era meant the present. Heaving a sigh, the Colonel turned from the sight and walked towards the officers’ sleeping quarters, flanked by the officer elite of the Kazarkian rifles, he tried to drift off and start walking almost mechanically but the uneasy but well articulated voice of young Lieutenant Thom pierced the attempted blanket of sleep.

“Sorry sir, but are we really going to attack the Zarbians on their homeground?”

Heatherfield just kept his gaze locked on the space immediately in front of him, mulling over what Thom just said before producing a rather pathetic reply.

“Yes.”

The group walked in silence after that simple statement of fact.

The following day

The following day, there was no long, drawn out speech or mammoth newspaper article, there was a headline and a snippet of speech that would impact upon the Kriegos people and Zarbian people everywhere. The gears of war had been set in motion and the olive branch of peace would simply get ground down into pulp if it attempted to intervene.

Fedor’s Voice

The Great Fleet Sails!

In the wee hours of the morning, the brave men and woman of the Collective Oligarchic military set off aboard mighty ships and have embarked upon a great crusade. A crusade to end tyranny, fear and oppression in the foreign land of Zarbia. We are the liberators, we are the saviours. Our course is just. We cannot fail.

Guffingford

25-12-2005, 13:58

Stevid was going to attack, probably an attempt to surprise us. How? Unknown. When and where? Idem. Can their attempt be thwarted? Naturally. Knowing it will come, but not knowing where and when is an ache like cancer; it only goes away once you found it and eliminate it as a whole. Patience is a virtue they say.

In the meantime, near the Guffingfordian-Zarbian border

"Commander Gregor Jansky, I have received orders from central command to begin enforcing the whole border. From the upper north to the south, as said and signed by the Minister of Defence, the honorable Mr. Leonard Ynsson."

"Ah, so he did sign that edict finally? Should have done it a long time ago I reckon. Still, better late than never don't you agree Eric, or is a communications officer not entitled to his own opinion?"

"I am sir, but I am not being paid to express opinions. And yes, sir. But the minister stresses that we are not allowed to linger or halt construction without any formal permission for delay."

"Formal permission for delay? So if I cannot get the proper tools or equipment, I may not wait? What's that for nonsense order?"

"The Minister thinks a Zarbian assault may be imminent. Therefore in the interest of national security and protection of the people... You know this story Commander."

"Yes yes I heard that story before Eric. Just get the stuff needed for the job, maps and builders and we'll begin construction. What do you have in mind actually Eric, spit it out."

"Because Zarbia relies heavily on infantry - and so do we - we have learned much from trench warfare, artillery, trench mortars, guns, minefields, sappers, snipers, gunnery posts, pillboxes, bunkers. These structures are quick and easy to build. Cheap too. Dig trenches, place guns and men and Bob's your uncle."

"You know, I certainly believe that stopping their assault with this kind of stuff is effective and not time consuming, since they'll die alltogether. But there's one thing bothering me. This whole history of trenches and all happened before in the First World War. I do hope Zarbia's not gonna do the same."

"Don't worry Commander, central command has thought of every plausible scenario and we're very certain that it ain't going to be a WW1 remake. This war that is."

"I bet they are."

Independent Hitmen

27-12-2005, 15:29

Under Hetches Mountain Range, Outskirts of J City
Central Independent Hitmen

Field Marshal Mathers had now been joined by the President and the majority of his staff and family. They occupied the Presidential Level one floor below the command centre, a level that was guarded by Secret Service Personnel as well as Marines. The President had just been called to the command centre following the loss of several military satellite’s that had until a minute ago been orbiting the planet. He had yet to be told.

Mathers was handed a hastily written report even as the President strode into the room with four bodyguards.

“What is it Mike?” then he examined the look on his principle commanders face more closely. It was a mix of anger and puzzlement.

“Approximately seven minutes ago we lost contact with our Recon Satellite RS-567. At first we thought it was a problem with a communications bird that went down just before, but then we started getting reports that several other birds are going down. We are currently showing nine Keyholes, that’s our photoreconsat, and seven communication birds down.”

A shocked look spread across the President’s face.

“Whats doing it?”

“We have a fair idea as to the culprits. Deep Space Tracking has these fuckers on the screens, they appeared in a low earth orbit approximately four minutes before our satellites started going down. Its probable that they are the cause, one of our satellites for a brief look at its attacker before it was destroyed but there were no nationality markings on it that we could detect.”

“Well who the hell are they then?”

“That we don’t know. We have had no official declaration of war from anybody and as you know Congress have not issued a declaration of war yet either. We do know that they started shooting at our military birds and also several commercial ones. They hit a cable TV one first so a lot of people are gonna be without satellite TV Sir.”

This was the one time that Mathers thanked the RWC. Because of their Black Steel system the USIH had undertaken a massive program of laying high speed fibre optic communication lines between all bases within the country and several outside of it. The loss of the satellites was a major headache none the less, but at least they could still communicate with all Home bases and commands. The majority of the Fleets now out at sea were also within normal communications range of land as well and so that would not affect their capability that much. The only major worry would be 2nd Fleet, which would be completely out on their own if these space craft managed to take out more of the satellites, particularly Naval Communication ones.

“What are our options Mike?” the President finally asked after a pause of nearly a minute.

“First off Sir. You give me permission to reactive the Face of God project. Give the tech boys four or five hours and we will have a very real counter. Second you need to get the SecState over to the Abrams and Redge embassies to prepare them in case we need to enact Article Four of our respective treaties. We supplied them with those damn satellites and now we might need them, or at least the ‘take’ from them. My shooters can’t operate if they don’t know where the god dammed enemy is.”

“Face of God. That’s dangerous Mike. But Permission granted. As for the satellites we will have to keep that very quiet. If they get one sniff of it those will disappear like the others might do.”

“Yes Sir. Right now we are preparing to start piggybacking our most vital signals off commercial birds that are registered in the country if our own ones are all taken out. They shouldn’t be able to tell. First orders should go to 2nd Fleet, they need to start moving away from there and closer to friendly cover around Stevid, we will inform them to loop around Eastwards. Holy Panooly isn’t involved in the war at the moment so hopefully they can get around that way. They must’ve thrown this surprise at us and they may throw another at those Squids who are exposed. Before the first satellite went down we got thermal pictures of heat blooms in lots of Guffingford ships boiler rooms. They are putting to sea, no doubt about it. It’s a defensive war at the moment and we have got to safeguard our assets for when that changes.”

“Very well General, Permission granted.” he turned to a nearby desk and picked up a phone. “Get me Secretary Adler……..Tom? Good. Get your ass over to the Abrams and then Redge embassies and tell them we may need to enact Article Four of the treaties, quietly. There will be a chopper waiting for you at the surface.”

He put the phone down before the SecState had time to fully grasp the situation.

As he had done that Mike Mathers had also picked up a phone and was talking to the commander of Hope Springs Test Facility. Officially it was an army testing facility. Unofficially it housed nearly 5,000 ICBM’s that made up nearly a quarter of the land based IH nuclear deterrent. It had been on this base that the original Face of God project had been run, and there were still nineteen missiles of that configuration left in a separate set of silos across the launch ground. As well as this many of the technicians were still there, working on terminal guidance packages for the standard ICBM’s. Within minutes of the phone call they had dropped their current work and were in trucks heading towards the nineteen silos.

Face of God was an experimental project started during the potential M-Pire conflict that had threatened the IH with Space Bombardment. Since that conflict however, the development of the IGNORE cannons had meant that fear of Space Bombardment no longer really existed. Quietly the Scientists wondered why those cannons had not been used in this situation, they had the potential to make the problem disappear. Then again so did the Face of God.

When they arrived at the silos they found the missiles exactly as they had been left, the maintenance crews maintained them as they did every other one on the base, but to check they removed maintenance hatches and ran system diagnostics.

Meanwhile at the bunker housing the bases nuclear weapons nineteen five tonne trucks and an equal number of HMMWV’s pulled up outside the perimeter. A Colonel alighted from the first Hummer and spoke with the Marine Guard for a very brief time.

“Colonel Jackson here Marine. You should have gotten the call.”

“Yes Sir.” The Marine checked the visitors ID tag just to make sure. “They are bringing them up to the surface as we speak. Take your vehicles to Elevator Four, they will be delivered there.”

“Thanks Son.” he turned to the trucks and waved them forward as the gate began moving to one side. He stepped onto the running board of the first truck as it came past him, and stayed there until he pulled up outside Elevator Four’s docking ramp.

Already there were five marines with their M16A2’s gripped tightly. Another six jumped down from the back of each truck and moved to the elevator doors as they opened.

Twenty minutes later the trucks roared out of the small facility within the base and headed left towards the missile fields, where they noticed trucks were already around a small cluster of the buried silo’s. The warheads were kept separate from the missiles due to the postponement of the project, now they would be mated up for a final time.

IHS New Hampshire New England Class Fleet Carrier.
Flagship of the 2nd Fleet, 1000 Miles South of Port Huyzen, 400miles West of the Disputed Territory south of Theohuanacu

“Admiral Sir, new orders just come through from Gillen.”

Captain Foley handed the sheet of freshly printed paper over to McWalter.

“They want us to do what! We are the premier striking arm in theatre and they want us to take a cruise that will be nearly a week long! Not to mention we go right past Holy Panooly!”

“But Admiral we cannot face the entire Macabeean and Guffingfordii Navies and AirForces by ourselves, we must go to Stevid in order to be fully prepared to strike out!”

“Yes but we looped around them on the way down here before this mess began. Now we loop around the other way to get back, it’s a wonder why they call those people intelligent back at Gillen.”

“Yes Admiral, but they have a greater overall strategic look than we do. We must trust that they know best.”

“Hmph…..Very well Captain. Send these on to the other groups, we turn in five minutes. Due East below Holy Panooly, once we have passed Cagliari we head North then pass East of Adaptes Astrates, between The Merchant Guilds former home and AfricaZkorps and then finally into Stevid territorial waters. They remind us that we are not yet at war due to Congressional insight. I must do whatever is necessary to safeguard my command blah blah blah….”

“Very well Admiral, I will let the relative Task Force commanders know of the mission change. I will get the CAG to send off another Hummer to look in front of our new path and will leave those ones already up in place for longer to fool any watchers that we are maintaining our patrol station as before.”

“Very good Captain. Proceed.”

“Aye Aye Sir.”

Hetches Command Facility

Four hours later the green phone rang at the Hetches Facility. It was picked up by a Captain, who immediately handed it to Mathers. After a minute he turned to the President.

“Sir they are ready and serviceable. Warheads have been mated with the missiles. They have the target data from Deep Space Tracking. Request your permission to release the weapons.”

“Permission granted. Smoke us some Space Cadets Mike.”

A thin smile spread on Mathers lips as he repeated the words down the phone.

Hope Springs Test Facility, One thousand Kilometres South of J City
Command Bunker Four-Two, Controlling Face of God silo’s.

The base commander put down the phone. He hadn’t expected this day to come, but come it had.

“Authorization has been gained. Launch Codes have been sent. Confirm codes received.”

A young Captain read out the codes received whilst another read the launch codes on the console infront of him.

“Codes received and confirmed. Launch is valid.”

“Very well. Commence launch procedures on silo’s fifty through to sixty nine.”

The base commander turned the keys to all nineteen silo’s one by one enabling launch procedures to begin. When that command was completed he pressed the buttons to open all the relevant silo hatches and watched them open one by one on the CCTV screens above his head on the wall. The heavy steel reinforced concrete took nearly a minute to open with bits of the green turf used to hide it dropping down into the dark hole beneath, and from the angle of the CCTV camera you could just see the nose of the missile poking out.

“Launch missiles”

The technician next to him pressed the launch buttons in numerical order, with a spread of just one second between each missile launch.

From a hill four miles from the launching silos the team of scientists and technicians watched the exhaust flames being vented from special ducts either side of the silo and then the nineteen Peacekeeper ICBM missile bodies rise up into the air and towards space. Once they were out of visual range half of the scientists reboarded the trucks and headed off to another set of silos, there to do some more adjustments to another batch of twenty Peacekeeper rocket bodies, whilst the others boarded Hummers for the short ride to the warhead storage facility. There they would make alterations to the terminal guidance systems of another twenty payloads to restock the rockets just fired.

Even as the primary rocket boosters on the Peacekeepers finished its job of firing them into space they detached from the main rocket and back on earth the General turned the keys on all nineteen to arm the warheads. The majority of the Kriegorgrad space force was spread out due to its satellite hunting and several of the vessels were no doubt on the other side of the huge planet attempting to find more elements of the IH satellite network.

The missile didn’t know this. All they knew was that they had to get to a preprogrammed point in space and then release their warheads, which would themselves find their targets. Each of the nineteen adapted missiles carried twelve warheads, these were much smaller than the nuclear weapons they had been designed to carry, giving a total of 228 warheads going into space. Six warheads each were targeted at 38 targets in space that were thought to make up the opposing battle fleet. The terminal guidance on the warheads meant that rather than seeking an air burst the 2000pounds (equivalent) of explosives would explode on impact.

The Face of God had just been unleashed. Whether it would work or not was a separate matter.

Guffingford

28-12-2005, 11:36

TO GLORY!
Today, on these fine last days of this year after Christmas, God smiles down upon us and this mission. We were given the time to prepare for this showdown, and now we are either going to be victorious, or we shall meet our equals in battle. Loss is not an option.

My most trusted commanders of the army have been set out to establish themselves and their fleets or armies. Today on this fine day the attack will commence. First we shall target Stevid's oil assets on the Inner Sea, then we will seek out and destroy their puny naval "forces". Today on this fine day we will be remembered as the brave souls wanting to carve out order and stability, instead of rivalry and land grabbing.

- Correnspondence between Mr. Rudyard Sweet [Minister of Economic Affairs] to High Admiral Quinson HansenFinally it was about to begin. Damaging resource production first, then we'll deal with their weakened economy and army. Not too difficult, but for once we can call this a challanging game. Kriegorgrad and The Macabees are allied with Guffingford. Solid ties, not to be shaken by a war or any other petty conflict.

So far everything good. The 'all out war' type of economy put into action by Mr. Sweet proves to work remarkably well, considering the situation. People still spend money, consumption rate hasn't made any significant drops and military spending still reigns supreme. New ships of the yet-to-be released Danzig Class and several other ingenious and classified designs. From all the new ships made, new battlegroups form and from these battlegroups new fleets of the navy emerge. The sheer amount of production - and production capacity as a whole - is so massive its hard to imagine for outsiders. Keeping up with the titanic industrial potency of Guffingford sounds like a mathematical fallacy. In utmost secrecy Guffingfordian scientists collaborate with The Macabees in development of new improved cannons, gun barrels and new, daring armor types. War always fuels thought of creation and improvement.

*****

Young men, today its gonna begin. Your first targets will be Stevids oil platforms on the specific locations marked with A on the maps you have gotten during your briefing. Go there and destroy them. Damage is not enough, Ynsson wants complete devastation. Good luck!

- Encrypted Radio Message from Naval Command to all involved Commanders.

From the harbors in the North Western Quarter of Guffingford and Suidelike Kaap Vrystaat ships of the Hanseatic Marine Ships supported by AA vessels of the Hanseatic Coast Guard were enroute to the first Stevid oilrig. Near the border of the disputed zone, this was going to be the first of many to be destroyed.

It was sure Stevid sent forth protection to these istallations ie; ships and airsupport. But the magnitude and strength of the Guffingfordian ships was sure to overwhelm them. Missile barrage and shellfire, anti-aircraft missiles and guns. Yes, it will be fantastic.

On the bridge of the HMS Cirrus, an Aasimar Class Battlecruiser.

"Commander, sir we are picking up the first target."

"Show me." The navigator pointed at the CELLDAR screen, and showed the same location on the map. The ships were still outside the disputed zone.

"Tell the skipper to stay outside this disputed sector, and to the chef-of-arms to load the guns and missile bays. Give 'em hell from here. Also, signal the AA vessels to stay near us, do not let them leave the formation."

"Aye sir, I'll also tell to throw out the submarine detection buoys at extra coverage."

"Good choice, I want to monitor all enemy contact over here. The missile cells will be up and running within six minutes. Once this fleet's ready, contact naval command. I want their confirmation."

"Aye sir."

Six minutes later...

"This is Cirrus calling for NC, over." "This is NC, you are talking on secure communications uplink number 412, over." "Cirrus and Sky ask for permission to throw lightning over." "You have permission over and out."

From the Aasimar thirty HEV missiles were aimed and launched at the first Stevid oil rig. From here, there could only be death. Everybody sat tight and waited.

Hiiraan

28-12-2005, 12:27

Hiiraan Times - Your News Today!

Brewing Governments are at it again, the tanks of destruction are rolling from all sides and war is in our mistds once again. The Maccabees have declared war on Zarbia, not long from that, all hell broke lose.
The Government has not made any decision but has issued a comment on the situation, calling it a a "chance for dictators to run wild on the innocent". The Oligarchic of Kriegorgrad issued a statement sayng that t"the brave men and woman of the Collective Oligarchic military set off aboard mighty ships and have embarked upon a great crusade." in their official statement to declare war.

"The Republic does not support any nation that mongers off to war" said Prime Minister Nuur Mohamed later that evening. The Statement was later recanted and labeled unofficial statement. "The Government has no official policy yet" The Prime Minister told reporters later on the day.

Independent Hitmen

28-12-2005, 21:57

Are we at war?

As the ever continuing upheaval and conflict in Imperial Armies reaches even higher levels, rumors have swept the press of USIH involvement in the conflict. As yet President Anderson has done nothing to contradict the collective viewpoint that Guffingford and its “cronies” should be stopped before their petty squabbles and wars reach out of the Imperial Armies region and threaten other, more peaceful, areas of the globe.

With the Government refusing to comment officially about the ongoing situation, especially with the recent satellite failures that inside sources say were not as innocent as they may appear, The Hitmen Times undertook an investigation.

Top New White House advisors refused to comment on the record or off, but through various means the HT did find out that beginning last Monday large bodies of IH troops were given various war warnings and ordered to prepare for movement to an unknown destination. It was also uncovered, through separate means, that proposed arms purchases for next years budget have been brought forward dramatically and that for the first time in several years the Defence budget is being overspent. All new purchases are said to have come within the last week, especially the very quite ordering of four more New England Class Carriers to supplement the eleven already in service. Separate sources within the Naval Department say that several other vessels have also been commissioned, and neighbors to the PortHaven Shipping Yards have commented that there has been increased activity there since last weekend, with an apparent third shift now working through the night.

These worrying events coupled with the recent extended session of Congress, details about which were held under the Sensitive Information Bill of last May, would appear to suggest that the USIH is heading to war. But when we do not know, with no official declaration the only thing we have to look forward to is a Presidential Address that is scheduled for two days time.

Nieto Air Force Base, Outskirts of J City
Home of the 4th Strategic Bombing Wing

The B-6 Strategic Bomber was one of several models employed by the Strategic Bombing Wings of the IH AirForce. Along with the B-1B, B-2 and B-300 bombers they made up a fearsome force to any power foolish enough to declare hostilities against the USIH.

Now the 4th Strategic Bombing Wing, known within their community as ‘The World’s Best Bombing Wing’ were heading into another unknown. This time one in Stevid.

When darkness came to the base the 24 B-6 bombers that made up the 345th and 346th Bomber Squadrons took off one by one and turned south. They were followed by half a dozen C-141 Starlifters that carried the ground maintenance staff and spare crews for the supersonic bombers that tonight were heavy with auxiliary fuel tanks rather than bombs.

An orbiting E-3B Sentry saw the C-141’s take off and then proceed away from the base but they couldn’t pick up the stealthy signature of the B-6, despite them being less than fifty miles away from the powerful aerial radar platform. The pilots of the B-6’s had their throttles barely above idle as they climbed to 52,000feet to begin the first leg of their journey that would finish in Stevid. In five hours time they would refuel as they crossed the southwestern coast of Independent Hitmen, a task that would be made difficult as the E-3B with the tankers would not be able to see the approaching B-6’s very easily, and then proceed to their destinations.

The scene was similar at IH bases across the world. The 7th Strategic Bombing Wing from Yoshi AFB in Russian Forces was already on its way to Stevid, the 48 B-52H bombers of that force using internal fuel for the whole journey.

But bombers were not the only forces going to Stevid on this day. The 5th and 9th Fighter Wings from Hokick AFB in Dr_Twist were also on their way along with their Support Wing, the 21st, with its E-3B’s and various other aircraft that provided invaluable support to the F-15C, F-22A and F-16C Fighters. They would be joined in Stevid by the 11th Ground Attack Wing with its Strike Eagles, Warthogs and Falcons.

Specialist units such as EF-111 Raven’s, F-16CG Wild Weasels, TWM-1 surveillance and RC-135 Electronic Intelligence Gatherers were all staging out of bases around the country, and several from bases in Allied nations, particularly RC-135’s from ViZion and TWM-1’s from Russian Forces.

Fort Hopkirk, Northern Independent Hitmen
XVI (Airbourne) Corps

Fort Hopkirk had been supplied with eight runways for exactly this kind of situation. Since before dawn there had been a continuous flow of transport aircraft coming into the base ranging from C-130’s to the huge C-5’s possessed by Transport Command.

Currently they were loading the first of the five divisions that made up XVI (Airbourne) Corps. The 12,000 men of the 52nd Airbourne Division were mainly concerned with how much equipment they could get into the birds that were flying them to their destination rather than what that destination was. They all carried their small arms and tactical equipment onto the aircaft with them as well as supplies for about five days of combat operations. Their parachutes were being loaded into separate aircraft in a very efficient pallet system to make the most of the available space.

From their places aboard the mainly C-17’s that were ferrying the actual troops they watched their vehicles being loaded aboard C-141’s and C-5’s, the former of which had their noses swung up to allow the Armoured Hummer’s and other assorted vehicles to be loaded onboard. From the ground the Corps Commander Lt.General Hummel watched a Patriot Launcher vehicle along with its radar acquisition vehicle being loaded into a C-5. His C-130 would not be flying his Corps Staff out for another 36hrs. He had work to do here first. As he walked away the first of the 52nd’s UH-60 Blackhawks was loaded into another C-5, the helicopter’s rotors put in down the length of the aircraft once the helicopter fuselage was in.

Commanding the 52nd was Major General Burt Skeene and he sat in the lead C-130 of the formation along with the headquarters detachment from his lead regiment, the 505th Infantry. They would be the first IH combat troops to ever land in Stevid and would assist firstly with local defence, their destination after that they were still uncertain of. Would it be Guffingford, The Macabees, Zarbia, Krieg? They simply didn’t know.

Marine Naval Station 12, Fifty Miles North of Gillen

The first vehicles of the 4th (Heavy) Marine Division “The Fearsome Fourth” began arriving at the formation point about half a mile from the quay side. The point was slightly up hill from the coast which allowed the Marines to see the vessels that were arrayed in the harbour awaiting their cargo. Seven of them would be taking the equipment for the complete 4th Marines and the rest would be accepting their cargo over the next three days as the rest of the Marine Expeditionary Corps arrived at this large port.

Only the vehicle crews of the divisions were bringing their vehicles here to be loaded and only some of them would remain with them when embarked on the transport ships. The rest of the Division would be flown over to join them once they were ashore in Stevid to be reunited with their vehicles and then receive whatever orders that they were going to be issued with.

At the formation point each vehicle was issued with a plastic card with a number printed on it denoting the ship they would be on and a time denoting when they had to report to that particular ship for loading. The first vehicles loaded were the Supply Lorries than reversed into the spacious cargo holds of the Roll-On/Roll-Off transports or were winched into the standard cargo carriers. Next came the Divisions armoured vehicles, M1A2 Abrams, M2 Brad’s, LAAV’s and all the other fighting vehicles of a Reinforced Division. The Divisions helicopters were all landing on a pair of WASP class Assault Ships that were sitting slightly out in the bay. The Divisions Blackhawk’s and Huey’s had brought in the 2nd Battalion, 145th Marine Assault Regiment, who would be taking part in the voyage and subsequent landing operations. The two Assault Ships carried LCAC and LCT vessels that would be capable of landing the marines at any shore and not just in the deep water port that they hoped to find when they arrived in Stevid.

ExHaven Testing Complex, J Corp Weapons Testing Laboratory
The Central Highlands, South of J City

J Corp had become the main supplier of munitions and equipment to the IH military after the demise of IH Arms and Ammo during the Isolation. Since that time they had produced new systems that were now present within the IH military, some ideas were their own but some were also “borrowed” from other nations. The AS-1B Surface to Surface missile that had made their name was an example of the latter, being an extensive copy of the Venom Defence Hex missile.

But one of the ideas that they had come up with themselves were the Stealth Bombs. They were essentially normal bombs but coated in the same stealthy material that was on so many aircraft and naval vessels now in surface with the armed forces. It was forty of these that were now being loaded into the rear of a C-5 Galaxy for transport to the new base of the 4th Strategic Wing in Stevid. The bombs had been tested exclusively with the B-6 bombers and were not yet in regular service, a production run had only just begun, so these testing bombs were the only available.

Flying bombs was not efficient. The load carried by this single C-5 would be barely enough for two aircraft of the 4th but that was two more that would have them that otherwise and there were already targets that these bombs could service. Stevid used similar aircraft to the Hitmen and so their weapons could hopefully be fitted on them until such a time as IH one’s could be shipped out in sufficient numbers for a full campagin. A single squadron of C-141’s had loaded up over two hundred AAM-3’s, J Corps long range Air to Air missile, and these would be enough to keep the fighters currently heading to Stevid in business for about a day of combat.

Zarbia

29-12-2005, 15:12

Guffingfordian Border

The VA-2 Demon (http://s7.invisionfree.com/Venom_Defense/index.php?showtopic=95) cut through the air smoothly, on a scouting mission to uncover what was happening in the east. Although Zarbian command had expected much activity from their neighbors, what the aircraft's pilot saw left him shocked. Instead of mass mobilizations and marching armies, there was construction being done by the Guffingfordians. What he saw was a sea of trenches, pillboxes, and bunkers, stretching out as far as he could along the border. It looked like a modern day first World War, something that all military commanders dreaded. Command would react badly, instead of a devastating invasion they now faced a stalemate.

The Zarbian economy, weakened by trade restrictions imposed by foreign powers, would be strained to its limits, perhaps so much that it would collapse under its own weight. While the government promised that all its people were loved by their homeland and equal, it was far from what was actually practiced. Wealth lay in the hands of the Zarbian elite; the government, top military officials, and less commonly, corporate leaders. The rest of the population for the most part was poor or struggling to survive. Bribery, fraud, extortion, exploitation, and corruption were all huge players in Zarbian politics. This was undoubtedly a reason for the decay of the country and the state it was now in.

These economic troubles, coupled with old territory disputes, were the foundations for the looming war, a war that would overwhelm and devastate all those involved. It had just begun...

Jungle

From the thick jungle canopy came the shrill cry of a parrot, the sound pure and undisturbed in the quiet of the uninhabited landscape. The Zarbian captain, Benito Rojas, stood in the shade of a tall palm, his eyes roaming the treetops for the origin of the noise. Unable to locate it, Benito decided it was time to continue moving.

"Listen men, break is over, we have to keep going," he called out, receiving a low groan in response. He felt the same way as they did. The humidity of this place was getting to him, it was like a huge invisible blanket, weighing down on the men and leaving them exhausted.

They were somewhere east of Monte Claro, stuck deep into the treacherous jungles of Zarbia and getting closer to their enemies all the time. They were following a small unpaved path, one of many leading to the border, used before the tensions in Imperial Armies when trade was more open in the region. An Iron Tiger (http://s7.invisionfree.com/Venom_Defense/index.php?showtopic=5) rumbled along the road, its treads tearing past the dirt and rocks in its path. Although battered from combat, the powerful machine was sturdy and trustworthy, the most used infantry fighting vehicle in the Zarbian ground forces.

A brightly coloured butterfly flew past Captain Rojas, causing him to let out a sigh. It was ironic to observe such a display of beauty when soon he would be seeing the most ugly sight in the world. War. The word made him shudder, he had seen it before and knew of its horrors. Rojas tried to wipe it from his mind as gravel was ground underneath his boots. War.

The Macabees

01-01-2006, 20:47

Somewhere Northwest of La Gloria
Six long haired individuals stepped out from behind a heavy set of leaves, their rifles at ready. They had decided to take the hard path through Zarbia, instead of the main road, and they were paying for it. The lead man was carrying a long, thick machete, cutting at the brush around him, and at anything else that got near him, and he murmured insults all the way. Their dress did not suggest anything about them, except the fact that they might have been guerillas, but the rifles and equipment gave them away as Macabee special operations personnel. They had been sent, originally, as a team of ten, destined to pinpoint locations for effective bombardment of the Zarbian jungles to clear areas for fire bases which the Imperial army would use to slowly advance and occupy border regions of Zarbia, thus giving them somewhere to rally around if the Zarbian jungle was to rout them in any particular operation. Unfortunately, two had died from snake bites, one being fully crushed by a boa constrictor before a single rifle round penetrated through the snake's head. Another man had been bit by a mosquito and was dead seventy-two hours later, and the fourth soldier had died by a pot shot by some Zarbian soldier who had been unfortunate enough to be in the way of the team. Nonetheless, although slowly dying off, the team was accomplishing its mission. It only had one more location to pinpoint to finalize their deed of ten possible sights for bases.

The lead soldier stopped suddenly and put up his hand. Whipping his head around he said, "Here. Tierst, set up the computer and uplink to base. Rogien, Natan, Georg and Falar, secure a perimeter around us. I want you to kill Zarbian and animal alike." The others nodded and followed his instructions, lathargically setting out.

Tierst was already on his knees, unpacking the laptop computer. He would locate their position via global positioning satellites and then send this to their foward base. The man who could now be related to as the commander looked down at Tierst and said, "Hurry up, I don't want to be here another second."

Tierst nodded and chuckeled, "True enough. I can't believe the Emperor actually sees something profitable in this war."

The commander solemnly shook his head, "Many will die. Not to Zarbian bullets, but to the Zarbian jungle." How right he would be.

The six man team finished the job and by the next hour they were already headed south. They would hit a jungle road and from there hitch a ride to La Gloria where they would 'monitor the progress of the Zarbian army in the defense of Western Zarbia.' In other words, they would chill there until the Macabee army had entered the city. When that happened they had no doubt they would most likely be sent foward in the event of another offensive. But they all had the feeling that the taking of La Gloria would take longer than expected, especially if the proportions of deaths in the special operations team was equivalent to that which the main army would face. In other words, it would be a disaster.

All the while, the skies grew dark with formations of GLI-34 Albatross bombers, their black airframes providing no chance for escaping light. They flew high, with no fear of the Zarbian airforce, as around them dozens of Lu-45 Hawks provided a very protective escort. They all flew relatively slow and when they arrived at a position roughly fifty kilometers from the Zarbian frontier they began their dirty work. The coordinates of all ten possible base locations had already been fowarded to them; all they had to do was make sure that by the time their job was done those locations were merely empty places. To that effect they began to unleash a torrent of extended range dumb bombs, loaded with greek fire, which would target these locations and hopefully burn the entire hell hole down. Soon enough, the Zarbian jungles would be pot marked with ten circles. When the Albatrosses had completed their job they banked and headed back for home, closely followed by their compatriots in the smaller air superiority fighters. Below them one could already witness the harsh explosions and the creeping fire produced by the chemical warhead.

In the jungle, Georg, one of the soldiers, shuddered and said, "Do not seek death. Death will find you. But seek the road which makes death a fulfillment." He had put the Dag Hammarskjold quote so eloquently.

Tierst turned around to meet his gaze and said, "You mean suicide?"

The rest of the group laughed. But it was more of a nervous laugh than anything else. They all knew that the reaper was to come. Zarbia and the Second Empire of the Golden Throne was at a crossroads, and only invasion was a possible road. Death was not far off...

Fedala Internachnal
FEDALA, Second Empire of the Golden Throne - There have been growing signs of mobilization by the Macabee administration since the epic decleration of war. Bombing runs on Zarbia have no doubt escalated, annotated by the heavier explosions heard all over the eastern parts of the Empire. Further evidence, including the mass movement of armour and personnel through major cities of the Empire seems to point to a blatant mass deployment, meaning invasion of Zarbia is not far off. However, nothing has been officially stated yet.

Guffingford

02-01-2006, 11:45

Windhoek

The preperations were done, all the requirements for the soldiers have been met. The attack on Stevid's oil installations has began and now it was time to move to the next phase of the First Campaign. General Ponce DeMilión of the Guffingfordian land army - The Kaiserliche Armee, Royal Dragoons and the Imperial Cuirassiers. Other but certainly not of lesser importance - the Foot Cavalry and the Royal Artillery are under the command of several other officers. The brunt of the offensive forces are led by Ponce DeMilión. He's among those who are public idols in Guffingford - almost politically abused by the powers that be. He doesn't mind, it's just his job. And the public appearance? A little extra.

The White Mountain Range straddles the border between Guffingford and Zarbia, the only seperation between the damp atmosphere of the Zarbian jungles and the dry heat of the Guffingfordian highlands. Luckily, the soldiers of Guffingford have gained a significant amount of experience in jungle warfare. But that won't be the problem. The constant strain on the delicate defense/offence debate is taking its toll on the soldiers. Attack or risk defeat at home? Defend or risk an even bigger Zarbian threat? These matters are very pressing, but now some decisions have to be made.

At some places on the border the mountains go more inland, that means, into Guffingford giving us some space on the other side of the mountains. Though the White Mountains are difficult to climb and quite high, combined with the length make it an excellent natural defence. There's only one downside: the width of the mountain range. On average only a handful of mountains lie next to each other, which kind of nullifies the aforementioned advantages and benefits. Still, it's better than nothing.

When will Guffingford attack? The most likely when the Macabee attacks commence, creating a two front situation instantly. Until then, nobody knows how this is going to work out.

Kriegorgrad

02-01-2006, 15:29

Port Zalmebaai, Guffingford

“Alright lads, get down that fuckin’ plank! We got a war to fight!”

The bombastic and coarse shout barely pierced the din chorus of chattering voices and the pound of feet against wooden gangplank before being swallowed up by the cacophony of collective noise surrounding the busy dock area. Oddly reminiscent of the Kriegos docks back at the mainland, it was almost as if it were the great fleet were being rewound like a video, men pouring off ships rather than on while the other aspects of the fleet sat idle in the sea, small boats dispatched to ferry men to dry land. However, despite the delay for most of the Proletarian Guard in Guffingfordii territory, a few regiments had been deployed with great speed to the areas allotted to them by Guffingfordii command. Things were finally getting done after the nightmare of getting the fleet through the bottleneck strait of water near Kroneberg.

In a slight administration-related mess-up, it seems that several regiment of the Proletarian Youth in the place of Proletarian Guard. You can always trust the people at the top to do things right.

Near Saint Julien, Guffingford

Lieutenant Thom closed his eyes and tried to drift off, but the loud and relentless engine refused to allow him the luxury of sleep – a cruelty inflicted on the rest of the squad too. And the rest of the regiment in their trucks that made up the massive convoy dominating the Guffingfordii roads. The Kazarkian Rifles were being shifted at high speed to the Zarbian border. The plan was to penetrate the relatively flimsy defences and clear the way through the jungle so the rest of the Proletarian Guard could move up with minimal opposition and get a good angle of attack on Cidade De Prada and Monte Claro. The operation was predicted to be an easy one, at least, that’s what the Proletarian Guardsmen were told.

As they drove and even as the sun retreated, the air took on a hotter feel as the truck got ever closer to the Zarbian border…

30 Miles Outside Fedorgrad

“Well then, are our chaps on the ground?”

“Yes Comrade General, our men are on Guffingfordii soil and the forward units have been dispatched.”

“Marvellous.”

The quick exchange of information killed what was meant to be a lengthy meeting of war, Melchett went over to his drinks cabinet and poured himself some vintage port, he then turned and addressed his subordinates with some surprise, seeming shocked that they were still within the opulently old-fashioned room. He frowned and sipped some of the warm liqueur from the ornate crystal glass and snapped at them to leave, his whiskers moving about his mouth, mirroring his displeasure at being needlessly bothered.

After all, the war wasn’t that important. It’s not as if a huge percentage of the male Kriegos population counted on him. Oh, woops, it did.

Independent Hitmen

02-01-2006, 16:55

Undisclosed Location in Stevid (OOC: Not sure where he wants me yet)
52nd Airbourne Division Advanced Command Post

The Advanced CP had been set up quickly once the men were back on the ground, this time in the slightly colder environment of Stevid. The camouflage painted tents fluttered in the cool breeze that flowed across the open plain on which the airfield was set as Major General Skeene returned to the command posts along with Colonels Bertrand and Rayment commanding the 505th and 509th Infantry Regiments respectively.

The three men strode into the room and immediately went to the map table that now held a good scaled map of the immediate area that had been supplied by a couple of British liaison officers not two minutes before. General Skeene began speaking.

“John, I want you to take the 505th here and establish the main camp for us. Tents and the like at the moment, you know Chris Morris? Good. Liaise with him for Air Defence needs, Chris I want that Patriot Battery up as soon as humanely possible.” As he had been taking Lt.Col Chris Morris, the Divisional Air Defence Commander, had also come into the tent and approached the three men.

“Roger that General. Colonel Thompson’s plane is three minutes from the strip.”

General Skeene nodded and both Officers saluted and walked to the 505th Regimental Command Post to sort out Air Defence positions for the temporary division camp that was being set up just outside the base. As they left Skeene’s attention returned to the map.

“Will, we need to put extra security on these aircraft coming in. We have received authority to set up a couple of OP’s along the approach for landing, send a Battalion but keep em on a leash. We just wanna make sure we aren’t gonna have some Guffingford Agent with a Stinger taking a wing off a C-5, this is not a Battalion manoeuvre exercise. Send your other two Battalions to get their heavier equipment, your Regiment camp will be four miles South of this Base just to the East of the 505th and you need basic stuff set up by tonight. The 511th will be staying here tonight and will move out to their camp tomorrow, those boys are going to be about ten miles East of this little town.” he jabbed at a small town shown on the map. “Division CP will stay here and they tell me the communications gear is up and working, although I’m slightly sceptical as my main command group only landed five minutes ago. Ok Will that’s all, get it done.”

“Sir.” a salute and he also left only to be replaced with the Division Intelligence Officer, yet another Colonel.

“Afternoon Sir. Just got a report through on the wire from Corps CP back at Hopkirk.”

“You gonna keep it all to yourself?”

“Negative Sir. Like the sarcasm by the way. Ok one of the remaining ReconSats has nabbed some pictures of troops offloading from transports at Zalmebaii. They estimate that it is a Corps sized formation, with between two Regiments and a full division already established on land and moving West. Also rumblings of Macabeean movement in the East, their air strikes have increased in recent days but no determinable action on the ground into Zarbia however we have a concentration of units heading towards probable assembly points for an attack in conjunction with Guffingford. Army Intelligence is expecting them to try for a massive pincer and it doesn’t look too encouraging for the Zarbians. Outnumbered, but the jungle works for them. We must assume that most enemy troops will be like us, untrained and inexperienced for jungle combat as well as basic survival. The use of armoured vehicles will obviously be very hard, which means that if we did manage to get forces in there they would be mostly stuck and fighting nowhere near maximum efficiency in a mobile war. On the brighter side, our colleagues in the Air Force have got a hundred and forty fighters now into Stevid and they are working with their British friends. Our AWAC’s coverage is good and combined with Stevid ground based coverage we should get warning if any strike is going to make it in this far. We have fighters refuelling here on their way further south to reinforce that line and General Grey will be here tomorrow to take command of them, his command post will be run from here as well for the time being.”

“Ok thanks Bob. Such a cheery place. We got anyword on that Navy convoy?”

“The ordinance and equipment supply ships left port yesterday, escorted by the Black Prince battlegroup. They estimate they will be in Sunderland harbour in ten days. Figure two more to get the equipment up here and then a day to get it distributed once its here. Meanwhile we start training them again.”

“Yeah. I have a planning meeting about that in five. Once the 12th is here we are going to run an exercise against them. Until then it will be Battalion sized engagements as regularly as we can. We need to get the men to the sharp edge and keep them there. Dismissed Colonel.”

Space Union

02-01-2006, 17:53

OOC: Just a note, I'll be joining this RP soon. And yes I got premission from The Macabees (who sent me here) and I'm on Guff and Krieg's side.

Guffingford

03-01-2006, 20:54

Nationalism in Guffingford has kept a low profile for a good while. But now that a fairly large war is erupting between Guffingford and some others - who'll feel the wrath of the Guffingfordian military might soon enough - nationalism is steadily growing. The citizens of this nation have always been quite the patriots, some even say extremists in nationalism but to our standards, it was nothing.

That time has passed.

The government back in Hoogenbosch at first didn't mind these events; it all fints in the social strategy. The army's already willing to fight and to die for the country, and now the citizens have to be made ready to make sacrifices. It's not like their situation is going to decline. Not at all, it will remain the same, but television broadcasts are changing and the overall mood and looks of the cities, towns and villages will become more and more militarized. A very special plan, produced by some kind of 'propaganda' think-tank has came up with the following, which is pretty damn good in many state official opinions.
http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/guffingford.jpg
To be signed as Presidential Decree #128

- The nation must be a unity; which means that the Left Alliance Workers need to support the government. The leaders can be bribed and several annoying and/or troublesome members can be taken care of in Robbelpeak Penitentiary Center as we see fit.

- A new conflict, but we cannot pass up the oppertunity to ridicule some of our older enemies. We must think of Sarzonia, Praetonia, and some of Gholgoth. Provoke diplomatic reactions, exploit them to our advantage and portray targeted nations to our citizens as usual.

- Doomingsland is fighting against Questers and some others. Explain this as a coordinated attack against the allies of Guffingford and a plot to weaken Guffingford. This section can be used against other nations.

Truth Media News
Waarheis Media: Die Staascourant veur Guffingsfort en koloniën

Hoogenbosch, by our redaction -- The shadow of democracy is jealousy. Other nations who cannot deal with success of others begin a campaign of slander and hatred against those who managed to get a grip on the rebellious spirit of marxism and socialism. Far too often these nations who resort to the primitive means of written slander and libel are nations we all know too well. Those nations are unmistakenly Questers, Sarzonia and their little slavish monarchy Praetonia, dancing to the devilish tunes of his taskmasters.

Success brings enemies. Has Guffingford ever wished to gain enemies because of our sound economic policies, mighty armies and wise politics? Of course not. If our policies weren't as well thought out and well planned as they are, why do these nations promote violence and slaughter? Why do they attack the sovereign nation of ViZion when their citizens chose their president through legel and fair elections? Doomingsland stands up for democracy but the three sisters try to thwart Doomingsland's noble attempts to save democracy - again.

With shame and repulse our government hears stories from the ViZion front with horror; POW's taken by Questers (but they might as well be taken by Sarzonia or Praetonia) are subjected to torture, hours of interrogation and in the end; death. Families are destroyed and the landscape is blasted for years to come. Jealousy knows many shapes and forms, but the most dangerous forms festers restless in the minds of the irresponsible and dangerous rules of the aforementioned non-nations.

By a Presidential edict, President Lord Christopher Watermont hereby retracts any statements ever issued to the former nations of Sarzonia, Praetonia and Questers, as he no longer recognizes those nations as a sovereign nation, legitimate or worthy of being a sovereign nation. We will keep you updated on this developing story.

Stevid

03-01-2006, 23:01

Stevid Offshore Oil Mine Facility Gamma-Alpha

F-7890- HMS Hampshire-C (Type-23 Naval Frigate of the Royal Navy)

The alarms had ringed out across the ship and the warning lights had also simultaneously brightened up into life as the whole ship slipped into a state of wartime readiness and action stations. The whole crew was accustomed to being shunted into actions stations almost five times a week on drills and war games- but this time they knew that this time was for real. Every man knew his place and knew his job during a time such as this and now was the time to put into practise.

The ship had been in action stations only briefly but word travelled through the ship fast over the onboard inter comm. The captain had just told the whole crew from the command room what was happening, in fact if one was standing on the starboard side of the vessel then one would see why. A large black plume of smoke poured out from Oil Rig Two of Twelve in the local area. It was thick, jet black, light couldn’t penetrate it’s deadly choking atmosphere. This was no accident, no not at all, in fact the RAF and Royal Navy and the Foreign knew that it was only a matter of time before Guffingford would send a task force to destroy or at least damage Stevid’s off shore oil rigs. The time had come. The Guffingford fleet was not overly massive- they could’ve easily fielded an awful lot more to the engagement than this, which gave Stevid a fighting chance- a golden opportunity to counter these atrocious actions the infidel like people across the Western Pond sleeping snug in their beds.

Guffingford under estimated the local Stevid defence force. True, the Royal Navy was weaker in this particular oil field than in others, but the air defence force was tough as an eight metre thick steel wall. A 24/7 air defence squadron of Tornado GR1’s, GR4’s, F3’s, F-22A Raptors and F-22A/B Raptors. The rest of the huge squadron lay stationed on land with a fast response time of twelve minutes- the whole squadron could come to bear on the Guffingfordii naval force.
The Navy had larger problems, twelve Destroyers and eighteen Frigates were on constant standby in the oil fields along with twenty small patrol boats- not enough to counter an entire fleet. Guffingford’s time was limited but they would always make the most of it.

The deck of the Frigate was empty- no one was standing around idly doing nothing that they shouldn’t be. Despite the awesome amount of smoke pouring out of the oilrig, no one but the Guffingford naval officers and the crews of the neighbouring oilrig were around to see it. The Frigate, and probably every other person on Stevid’s side that had a radio, had radioed Johnson King Airbase and asked for all the air support they could give them in this time of need. All naval forces had converged and now where approaching the Guffingford fleet parallel on both sides of them and were initiating an offensive flanking manoeuvre.

The captain put down the controller for the intercom for the ship and turned to the crew that was sitting before him.
“Right this is it people! Those scumbags from across the pond have done the inevitable and attack this oil instillation. From what RADAR SAMPSON can support that they have a medium sized fleet ranging between small sized destroyers and cruiser f the air-defence type and multi-role type. We can take them on, and we will, but not head on. We’d be asking for it- lambs for the slaughter. The airbase has scrambled all available air re-enforcements ten minutes ago and should be here any minute. They’ll do the hard stuff like sinking and blowing up the bastards- we are here to safe guard the oil rigs and to harass and surround the enemy. Right for the moment it’s all down to time. Guffingford will target the supporting struts on the oilrigs in an attempt to make them topple into the ocean. They will succeed in doing it to a few- but while we’re here, they won’t do it to everyone here. Make this work gentlemen!”

***********

Oil Rig Ten of Twelve

Like the Frigates and Destroyers out on the high seas, the oilrigs all in the area had bumped up to action stations but unlike the Navy and RAF the crews of the rigs had time to stand and stare at their local neighbour burn in the blistering heat. The surprisingly warm day didn’t make it any worse for the crew as they tried their best not to look at their friends only two miles away being burned to death.

Other crew members had important things to do- the rig managers had already shut down the pipeline grid preventing the whole oil field going up inflames taking the rigs with it. The Royal Marines had the most excitement they’d had in months- Rig Two had been caught by surprise and had been an easy target, the other rig would be no push over.

The Defence budget had allocated more to the navy than ever before but not as much as expected. Secretly the obvious was done, you didn’t even need spies to know, and the rigs were out fitted with the latest naval SAMPSON RADAR systems, CIWS systems and 35mm Phalanx Cannons and 40mm AA Guns, not to mention the SMG’s the Marines carried that were capable of shooting down missiles if they were accurate enough to destroy them.
All the systems were armed and ready.

“Fuck me… She’s gonna go, I know it.” Said one worker to another watching the huge black, skyline dominating cloud rise into the air from rig two. “It’s taken a direct hit to the processing chamber, the whole thing will be flames… Unlucky I guess- dunno why they should be made to suffer, better destroy the struts now and get it over with cause the patrol boats won’t find many survivors after that kinda hit.”
“Aye- if the crew and marines aren’t on the deck… then they’re doomed to a hell hole that will soon be their grave… and…”

He was cut off in mid speech as a deafening roar of jet engines across above his head. The floor rumbled almost vigorously with the roar of fighter jets flying towards their targets in terrifying anger. The men, along with everyone on deck looked up into the sky at the sight of so many aircraft, a quick estimate would say at least fifty plus and maybe many more might up there as well in the cloudless sky- strange the skies and waters weren’t as hostile as they could be, good weather, Guffingford would know what hit them.

***********

Tornado GR4 Group A- Squadron Plane 1

Flight Group Commander Tom Hanes and his Co-Pilot David Robinson were at the forefront of the flight. The were eight minutes late but it was worth it, the RAF had got into a devastating formation that would hopefully wreak havoc amongst the Guffingfordii fleet. An upside down crescent moon shaped formation approaching the enemy fleet from the south- on RADAR it looked like a novelty smiley mouth on the screen but any normal officer would see the danger in it.
There were ten waves of crescent moons, all Tornado GR1’s and 4’s and F-22 A/B Raptors, the ground attack version. A deadly combination and worthy of the reputations that they held as being a merciless squadron, The F-22 A Raptors and Tornado F3’s remained at distance to counter any possible Guffingford Air Force counter-attack. It was a daunting sight for anyone to behold.

“Right Dave, looks like the RADAR is looking good, everyone is in position and our two wingmen look in good shape. Should be a good fight.”
“Aye sir. It shall indeed- loses will be high though.”
“Hmm, we’ll do it though… Okay… first wave have responded to the coded frequency… okay good we’re all ascending. This will be fun flying twelve feet from the water level.”
“Practise makes perfect, we’re experts and flying that low and even lower.”
“Aye, lets hope it pays off, RADAR coverage is poorer at that height than others, it should take longer for missile lock, it’s the Phalanxes and AA CIWS cannons I’m scared of. Right enough chit-chat, maintain radio silence unless it is absolutely necessary.”

All the planes in the front crescent, second and third dropped to twelve feet and slammed on as much throttle as possible. It was mere seconds before the Guffingfordii Phalanxes opened up on them and started cutting them to pieces. Tom looked for a split second to his left as he saw his wingman’s plane turn into an orange fire ball spewing yellow, orange, red and white flames behind it. Only the front of the plane wasn’t on fire but the canopy didn’t open, the electrics must have been utterly destroyed. Tom looked on helplessly as his first wingman smashed into the still bluish green water below before exploding and destroying any possible chance of survivors.

“Shit, right then, concentrate… Maintain your course people!” He yelled over the communication channel. David looked at his RADAR screen, none of the fighters had deviated course but loads of them were dropping like flies before the onslaught of the Guffingford point defence cannons.”
“Sir, we’re losing planes…fast, I’m not sure we’re gonna make it…”
“Just a second…just an second… just a sec…. THERE! Fox Three!! Fox Three!!”

The bomb droplet dispenser units below the plane opened up releasing the bomb droplets inside. Their momentum due to the speed of plane carried them far, it was only a matter of seconds before they’d strike their targets. His wingman did the same along with the other surviving aircraft.

“Fox Two!! Fox Two!!”

The primary armament f missiles fired- two missiles speed towards their targets. Other planes, though numbers had definitely diminished slightly the past five seconds, followed suit and off loaded a volley of fire into the fleet of Guffingford.

“GOOD!!GOOD!!” Shouted Tom over the intercom. “Climb!! Climb!! Get out of here!! If you wanna live…THEN CLIMB!!!!”. The first cresent of remaining aircraft pulled up into the air with many get cut down. Guffingfordii missiles were destroying many and CIWS systems destroying many more. Tom pulled back on the stick and was more than consciously aware of the yellow flickering of bullet flying past his plane’s fuselage. His wingman was not so lucky, the weakest part of the plane was the underneath were the weaponry was. Phalanx cannon bullets ripped into the fuselage underbelly cutting the plane to ribbons along with the pilot and co-pilot inside. The Tornado GR4 exploded in mid air with a fantastic yellow cloud of fuel and weapons detonating.

Tom pulled away from the fight and headed for the safety of the oilrigs.
“What does RADAR show Dave?”
“Out of Thirty aircraft in the first wave…err… three survivors sir…not including us.”
“Bollocks… we can only wait and hope for the outcomes of the next wave… Form up and prepare for another pass."

***********

The fight continued- alas damage had been taken, on both sides, but it had not stopped the Guffingfordii aggressors persisting in their assault on Rig Two. The black plumes of smoke continued to rise into the air but out of five struts all but two were destroyed and the great metallic hulk of a mine toppled sideways into the ocean, to the shock, awe and horror of all those who saw and behold the sight. And yet the attack continued with now two more oilrigs taking damage.

OOC: Guff- I hope this is satisfactory? And i'm not being sarcy either.

Guffingford

04-01-2006, 11:48

The army shall control the means of destruction
They may have the numbers, but we have superior firepower. Intimidate them, destroy two ships with maximum power. Show them who's in charge. Numbers do not win, technology wins that's actually meant for the future. We own the future in our ships, and we'll show them they underestimated us. Our mission is a sacred good, and we cannot go home with failure. The ends justify the means entirely, and the means can be everything.

"Commander, sir those pesky flies in the sky of Stevid are attacking us, firing bullets, rockets... Your orders?!"

"Sailor maintain yourself. They are not going to face us toe-to-toe. They may use outdated equipment, but they're not stupid. Look at the CELLDAR screen; they are going to try to flank us. Tell the bridge to set course for a head-on engagement, meanwhile signal the AA frigates and our own AA batteries to commence fire on the aircraft."

"Aye sir, it will be done. But sir, that way we will have one half of their fleet behind us. What can we do about that?"

"Furthermore, tell the Aasimars and Toryus to use their stirn deckartillery, and make sure they use the shells with the highest explosive radius. Also, mind if you ask them to drop a few of our special mines?"

"Of course sir. I'll do it right away." The sailor saluted and off he was to the bridge. From the missile cells on board the Aasimar and other ships of this fleet, AA missiles were loaded and locked onto every flying target. Evasive tactics? Maneavours to get rid of the missiles? Try it, and I guarantee you won't survive it. Produced my Guffingford and The Macabees, these missiles have been pushed to the limits of reality.

And then, it happened. The missiles fired by the Stevid Airforce fired down on the ships, slamming bumps in the heavy armour of the ships, setting systems on fire and making tiny holes in the vast AA grid. Yet some missiles even ricocheted off the sleek and steep surfaces of the ships, bullets bounced off. Still, damage was done. However, the cresent formation was not a smart strategy. Before the missiles were launched, the ships who weren't hit got hold of many Stevid aircraft and gunned them down with ease. Five ships were damaged, but nothing beyond repair. However, in this condition they weren't fit to fight more battles after this. But they had to hold on and cling to their belief in victory. Once the airforce is dead, the mission to destroy oil rigs can be continued.

Unleash hell upon them were the orders, and many missiles were launched at the aircraft. There was no real pattern in this all-out and brutal attack, but it was doing a fine job at taking them down. Not a single aircraft of the Guffingfordian Airforce was present, so nothing could stop the AA vessels from using their full potential. On the Aasimars and Toryus, the successful ILMS systems with laser accuracy took them down one by one, like a sharpshooter guns down all unsuspecting victims that pass by.

While the ships were sailing into the projected path, the heavy artillery on the stern of the Aasimars unleashed another barrage onto the Stevid ships. While many shells hit the water, the infinite chaos coming from fire raining down must have caused some panic. The solid and heavy barrels forged in Guffingford by the highest grade of steel and other alloys, payed off. The QLS (quick launch systems) were operating at full power and every ten seconds two shells were fired. Some hit, but many didn't.

OOC: Steve, if you have comments, TG them to me :)

Zarbia

04-01-2006, 16:01

EL PAIS

Government Proposes "War Preparation Plans."

In a public statement today, General Armando Cortazar announced that with the help of his cabinet he had formulated a schedule for Zarbia to follow in these times of conflict. As we now face invasion from both of our treacherous neighbors to the east and west, we must all stand united against our common enemy. While the junta pushed forth new conscription laws last week, forcing many young Zarbians to enlist in the armed forces, a new economic plan has been developed to ensure maximum efficiency in our struggle to defend the homeland. Under the wartime system, old factories have been converted into war material producers; ammunition, weapons, and tanks are being manufactured faster than ever in the past decade. While husbands and brothers leave their jobs to fight for their country, their wives and sisters fill their places, eager to support our troops. Government officials have already predicted a 7% economic growth, with higher figures on their way. Support your leaders, we will win this war!

Jungle

It was almost comical to see the face of Captain Péron as he surveyed the scene in front of him. His eyebrows, black and bushy, were raised high and his mouth hung slightly open, a mask of complete shock and disbelief. In front of him was one of the most disturbing sights he had ever seen, even for a veteran of battle like himself. A young private, wandering too far from the main group, had fallen victim to the ferocity of a massive boa constrictor. The man's flesh had turned completely white and was now gaining a purplish tinge while his eyes bulged from his face, crushed to death by the powerful snake.

"What..the fuck?" gasped a soldier beside him, his wide eyes fixed on the gruesome scene before him.

"It's Alvarez, he's a goner," said another private, shouldering his G36 menacingly. "This is the sickest shit I've ever seen."

Rodrigo Péron snapped out of his trance, giving his men a stern look. "Calm down. God knows what else is hidden in this place, probably worse. Stay together and don't wander off like Alvarez did." He turned to leave before adding, "And kill the snake."

A quick burst of bullets ended the creature's life, causing its muscles to loosen on the broken body of the young private. Péron turned back to give the pair a quick glance and grimaced. It was as if the two bodies had been engaged in some kind of dance of death. A terrible way to end one's life. Yet much worse lay ahead, and the brave captain continued on his way. Onward to the east and the enemies they faced; the lying Guffingfordians with their false democracy and corrupt leaders; the Kriegos, filthy communists with a grudge. Péron could taste death already, it was in the air and coming closer..

Explosions Down Below: Aerial Operations Against Guffingford

The BAM 11 airfield was the largest of its kind in all of eastern Zarbia. Hidden in the jungle a few kilometers away from the city limits of Monte Claro, few knew of its existence and what it would begin today. After years of peace it had fallen into misuse and its facilities begun to decay, but it still had eight fully operational air strips and a massive storage area. Almost fifty planes were waiting for their turn to take off, the mighty K-1 Fanatics (http://s7.invisionfree.com/Venom_Defense/index.php?showtopic=108) sat on their respective strips, anxious for the greenlight to begin their mission. Suddenly, the main control tower, its chief deciding to finally come to work, gave the first eight aircraft permission for take off. The Fanatics began rolling down the concrete, picking up speed as they went. The same was occurring in an airbase north of here, the second half of the force was preparing itself for the same assignment. Right behind the bombers would be two squadrons of VA-2 Demons to protect the main force against any aerial counterrattack throw in by their enemies.

Eventually, all seven squadrons had entered the sky from both locations, meeting up somewhere in the middle. The eighty four aircraft zoomed past the empty air towards their destination, the Guffingfordian border. Instead of beginning an invasion against the fragile and unprepared Zarbian army, the Guffingfordians had decided to stay put in their trenches and bunkers. Now they would suffer their mistakes as a massive force of bombers, loaded with Mk 84 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_84_bomb) free fall bombs came closer and closer to them.

The Zarbian aircraft entered their designated space, immediately greeted with the sight of Guffingfordian trenches and troops milling about. It was about to get very ugly in here. The first two squadrons flew over the line of defenses, dropping their destructive payload. Breaths were held as the heavy munitions tumbled down through the sky, approaching their targets quickly. The other squadrons began targetting other points along the border, hoping to neutralize a great portion of the enemy's forces.

Cidade de Prata

"Sir, our bombing runs against Guffingford have begun, we will have news on their effectiveness shortly," reported General Maia.

General Cortazar took a small puff on the half finished cigar in his hand and nodded. "Excellent. This will hopefully show the Guffingfordians what they are dealing with." he commended his air force chief.

The military junta, Cortazar at its head, sat in the same meeting room as two weeks earlier. They had spent almost all of their time here, discussing and planning the war efforts. Military commanders, ministers, and other goverment officials passed through every day, obediently sitting through hours of meetings.

"Now tell me what is being done against the Macabeans. I've read countless intelligence reports detailing what they are doing, but I still don't know what we will do in our defense."

"Well my general, no major fighting has occurred in the past two weeks, we have had time to build up our own forces. Dozens of divisions are now fully prepared and are being sent to both eastern and western fronts. We expect Havenite support soon but we have not heard from them in days. Our conscription laws are being taking very seriously and as a whole our national morale and support are quite positive. We know what we are doing, and I am very confident as to what the results will be."

Cortazar looked at the man who had just spoken. Field Marshal Agostinho, one of his most trusted officers, was a tall, proud man of Portuguese descent. He had been the main driving force behind the entire defensive planning and was completely loyal to his leaders. The commander sat relaxed, smoking a cigarette. This was the man who was sending thousands of young Zarbians to their deaths, the one who was supposedly in control. He knew the truth tough; no one was in control.

[OOC: I am sorry about before, I had finished up the newspaper article and jungle paragraph when I ran into some big trouble with my gf so I was bumming hard. It's all fixed now though and I am happy to be able to fix up my post and continue with this thing.]

Stevid

06-01-2006, 20:52

Stevidain Oil Fields

Tom looked back at the Guffingfordii fleet as he banked his plane round Oilrig Five. The Guffingfordii fleet look dominating, at least five or six of their ships had taken recognisable damage and were showing signs of it. Grey smoke flowing out of a few of them but the AA defence grid overall was mostly unchanged as they rearranged their positions to compensate for the gaps the RAF had created.
Tom shook his head in despair.

“We underestimated their point defence weapon systems- they must have had fifty cannons firing at us down there, it was just a blur of yellow bullets and anti-air shells. Like a wall of death.”
“Orders?”
“Patch me in to the Second and third waves of aircraft- both are in a thin crescent line formation- they need to adapt their tactics to counter Guffingfords… Second Wave Leader- Second Wave Leader- Break, break, break, pull out of the attack now and re-form behind Wave Three.”

There was a brief pause before there was a crackling over the radio with reply.

“Roger the Sir, Breaking off from the fight now… everyone in the choir of Second Wave, break, break, break.”
“Third Wave! Re-a just your formation randomly between Formation Alpha-six and Beta-five. Keep their RADAR guessing and get only as near as you need to get before of loading your pay load.”
“Roger sir! Commencing formation changes at random.”

Tom looked back and saw a huge mass of fighter-bombers that used to be the second wave, the third wave was nowhere to be seen, camouflaged against the blue sea down below. But yellow flashes could easily be seen coming from the Guffingfordii fleet but not nearly as many explosions, the formation variation was working. Shortly after the Guffingfordii ships started flashing a pail yellow with missile and bomb impacts, over the radio could be “Fox 2” and “Fox 3” along with the unbearable screams of pain and terror from the pilots that had just been killed by the AA fire.

“Come on! Kill them!!! Once your done pull away and run like hell!! The closer you are the more accurate their fire becomes!!”

The exploding planes became more and more frequent as they got closer and closer to the Guffingfordii fleet, but it ended as quickly as it begun. The Guffingfordii fleet ceased AA fire and the explosions on the ships and in the air stopped as well.

“This is commander of the third wave of attack on the enemy. Twenty planes survived but I’m not sure of the damage on the Guffingfordii fleet but there was one fuck off explosion on one of their ships… I have no idea what happened- I might have imagined it but the second wave will confirm anything.”
“Good work commander but you sustained sixty percent casualties! This isn’t on! At this rate we’ll lose the battle!”[/i

Royal Navy Defence Fleet (HMS Hampshire-C)

[i]“Fire at Will! Fire at Will!” shouted the captain at the top of his voice.
The ship rocked as they threw everything at the Guffingford fleet, cannons, missiles, torpedoes, anything long range and ballistic. The Royal Navy, for the first time in a long time, was at a serious disadvantage. Frigates and destroyers, those by the standards of the modern world were seriously out of date, against pro-modern Guffingford naval vessels. The old weaponry had been replaced with the standard Stevid armaments, Stevid “Fire-God Missiles” had already proven to be a grave threat to some of the most heavily armoured ships, were now being thrown en mass at the Guffingfordii fleet.

“Three of our ships have taken minimal enemy cannon damage. Overall two casualties have been reported.” replied the RADAR operator in earnest, sweat dripping from his forehead even in the air-conditioned control room.
“Missile damage?”
“Negative, they seem to be so pre-occupied with the RAF and the oilrigs they don’t consider us much of a threat.”

“YES! Direct hit on their aft quarter sir with a cannon shell!” Yelled the tactical officer with a squeal of delight- first time he’d ever been in combat and was proving his ship and crew proud.
“Damage report on them Rating!” replied the captain with a sense of joy.
“The RAF must have damaged that ship in that general area. It might have been a fluke but I saw the hanger burst into flames and a few crewmembers fell of the side of their ship after the explosion. I must have struck something pretty volatile!”
“Hmm...I’m sure. Well it is a minor consolation, when their Navy gets it’s are into gear they’ll rip us to ribbons… Helm, keep your distance and steer course eight-on-two and maintain this formation, and RADAR ops increase our ECCM pulse on a rotating band- confuse their tracking systems, just do your best. Tactical- no matter how much I appreciate the damage we’ve dealt them I’d prefer it if we dented their command structure. Manual aim the cannon and slam away into their bridge and hope for the best- let the missile do the rest.”
“Aye sir.”

The ship jerked violently as the whole port side of the ship unleashed a volley of every weapon that was ready to fire. It was desperate but they were putting in the effort to five hundred percent- the field had to be protected at all costs.

“Sir- I’ve got a coded message from Air Force Command in the capital…err… they say we’ll have air support.” Called out the communication officer.
“Oh!! That’s gonna make all the difference, not only was the first wave and abysmal failure but they aborted the second wave until later.”
“No sir… I mean it is and allied force. Independent Hitmen sir, they’re taking off now, they’ll be here soon.”

Joy spread across the face of the captain, struck in the heart with hope and breathed a sigh of relief.
“We might just make it after all. Continue fire until the extra air support arrives.”

The Stevid continued to throw everything they had at the enemy fleet. Despite the rather inaccurate cannon fire, the missile were doing well at breaching a few of Guffingford’s Anti-missile defence grid- perhaps this was a battle that they could win.

Guffingford

07-01-2006, 11:43

OOC: Short post, I'm gonna let another fleet set sail into battle. Just for support and more mayham!

IC:
A Naval Base, North Western Quarter

The heavy ships of the 21st Fleet consists mainly of heavy artillery ships, anti-air and anti-ship. A most important fleet it is, the 21st. And it was that fleet which was going to the battle with Stevid. Although the ships already present there can handle more aircraft, but the primary objective was to destroy oilrigs, not to take down their Royal Airforce. A very handy side effect I say, but it takes the speed out of our mission. And speed is everything. It'll take only seven or so to get there, sailing at maximum speed.

Stevid's fleet over there had to be taken down very fast and with as little effort as possible. Their shells bounce off, we destroy one ship a missile. The Sledgehammer (http://forums.modernwarstudies.net/wbb2/thread.php?threadid=18) missiles come into play here. The fleet battling Stevid at the moment knew they were going to send ships, but nobody ever thought of taking some of these with them. The 21st does, and will yield results. Stevid will probably not like it, but you can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs. Once their navy is gone, the path will be open for an invasion some people say. Others say it's too early for an invasion. First the RAF has to be rusting at the bottom of the Inner Sea before we can even think about invading Stevid.

Inner Sea Battle - Stevid's Oilrigs

The fight raged on and on, the heavy AA of the sturdy Guffingfordian ships inflicting heavy damage upon the RAF, but they didn't know when to quit. So far there were no problems with a lack of missiles or munition; plenty of it had been taken with from the naval yards. Because most of the ships were occupied with the airforce, some arsenal ships had the oppertunity to attack more oil installations, and so they did. Ship-to-surface missiles (yet another joint Macabee-Guffingford project) were launched at the installations, especially the main structure of the oilrig.

When the navy of Stevid fired their "everything or nothing" volleys onto the Guffingfordian ships, many shells missed, some hit and others bounced off. The incredible blast protection of the armour proved its worth time and time again, yet damage was done. Two of the already damaged ships were in no condition to continue the fight - or even to make it back to the safety of port. The first cracks began to appear in the solid navy, but the fight continued like nothing happened.

Hours later...

More fighting, more death. More kills, more equipment lost in the dark waters of the sea. But then, the amazing happened. Like an act of God, the 21st arrived. The smoke coming from the diesel powered ships was seen first, behind the horizon and then the mighty ships came sailing towards the weary and battle hardened ships still fighting off the Stevid maniacs. Now it was time to push them back.

Independent Hitmen

07-01-2006, 14:18

OOC: Sorry this took a while!

226th Ground Attack Squadron, 11th Strike Wing,
255 Miles East of outer echelons of Guffingford Fleet

Lt Colonel Thomas Ward commanded the 226th Ground Attack Squadron of the 11th Strike Wing, currently based in Stevid. The squadron had arrived two days before and since then had only been flying patrol missions over their airfield and the Stevid coast under control of IH E-3B’s acting in support of Stevid Defence Forces. The F-15E Strike Eagles that made up the 226th had been loaded with air to air missiles for these missions as they were the only weapons available to them. However with the arrival of five C-5 Galaxy’s at the airbase earlier that day that had been changed and now each of the 12 Strike Eagles carried three AS-1B Air to Surface Missiles, four AAM-3 Long Range Air to Air Missiles and two AIM-9X Sidewinder Missiles, plus their full load of 20mm cannon shells. Now they were up approaching the field along with the other 36 Strike Eagles of the 11th that were all similarly armed.

The big AS-1B’s were slung one each under the wing, with the third under the fuselage of the sleek grey fighter aircraft that were now flying along at just under 30,000feet awaiting instructions from the E-3B Sentry-One that was acting as their eyes. The Strike Eagles had their own radar turned off and were instead using the feed from the big E-3B that was orbiting about twenty miles away, clearly visible to the forty eight pilots who were flying in a loose line formation, separated into squadrons.

Sentry-One was also obtaining information from another converted 707, this one also had the large rotodome atop its fuselage but was scanning the surface of the ocean not the air above it. The TWM-1F was forty miles to their North after information had come through about attacks on oil drilling stations nearer to that location, the E-3B had tracked a large body of Stevid aircraft heading that way but they had subsequently dropped off of the scope. The second and third waves were still just showing, but had changed formations rapidly. They had moved closer to reacquire the first group but could only pick up a fraction of the force that they had noted earlier whilst almost simultaneously receiving information from the TWM-1F that they had several surface contacts whose emissions classified them as unfriendly.

The take from the TWM-1F was now displayed on the screen of the mission commander on Sentry-One. He in turn keyed up his microphone to the frequency being used by the Strike Eagles.

“Pelican One, Sentry One over”

“Go ahead Sentry One” replied Ward.

“Pelican we show multiple surface contacts on bearing two-seven-niner, range two-five-five. Contacts are Guffingford fleet about to engage our British friends. We have received confirmation from Stevid forces that their boats are attempting to flank the Guffingford fleet and those friendly ships have been removed from the targeting data we are feeding to you.”

“Confirm Sentry-One, target data is received.”

Ward then spoke to his two other flight commanders.

“Gentlemen arm missiles. Red Flight, Blue Flight, Confirm.”

“Confirm Yellow Leader”

“Confirm Yellow Leader”

“Launch on my command. Four second spread.”

Ward’s right hand selected his AS-1B missiles and he flicked the switch to arm them. An immediate tone in his headset told him that the three missiles were receiving the information from the TWM-1 via the E-3. In the other eleven aircraft the pilots did the same and their fore fingers hovered just above the red painted triggers on their flight controls.

Confirming his actions with a glance down at his weapons status board Ward’s finger also moved to the trigger.

“Launch”

On his command he squeezed the trigger once and the AS-1B beneath the fuselage dropped free of its mountings and fell fifty feet before its rocket engine started and fired the missile forward and downwards at a speed of nearly Mach Four. Four seconds after first pulling the trigger he did so again and then again four seconds after that. There were now three waves of 48 AS-1B missiles streaking towards the Guffingford fleet, they were currently at 20,000feet and descending rapidly taking targeting instructions from the E-3B that was forwarding the data from the TWM-1. With slight alterations in the course of the target ships the computers onboard changed the missiles flight path slightly as they continued their two hundred nautical mile journey.

Meanwhile the Strike Eagles banked back towards the two converted airliners to act as a protective shield for them incase any Guffingford fighter came up to play. They didn’t know that this fleet had no carriers with which to launch aircraft and so they would stay with the 707’s with their Air to Air Missiles.

The AS-1B’s continued on their way, as they neared fifty miles from their targets they dropped down to just above sea level and the pack separated slightly as they sought out their individual targets. Instructed to do so by the human technicians, the computer onboard the TWM-1F assigned three missiles to each target, which meant that there were forty eight targeted ships in the enemy formation and these were ultimately the biggest blips on the screen. Sixteen of the missiles were of the special configuration, which meant that instead of attempting to hit the direct side of the ship they were specifically targeted at the superstructure where vital electronics and such were kept and from where the ship was usually run. It would not sink the ship, but it was more likely to put it out of action due to the thickness of the Guffingford armour that adorned the hulls.

OverLeaf Air Force Base, Stevid
7th Strategic Bombing Wing

The base that the 7th were using had been christened OverLeaf barely an hour before by the Wing Commander Johnson as he was given his first mission of the war. The 48 B-52H Stratofortresses currently sitting idle in the hangars or concrete revetments were being loaded with Air Launched AS-1B’s that carried their 1000-pound anti shipping warhead. The -52’s would be following an attack made by the Strike Eagles of the 11th on the Guffingford flotilla that was so annoying the oilrigs that provided the vital black liquid to Stevid.

The crews were briefed with the usual thoroughness that accompanied the IH Air Force wherever it went and then boarded vehicles for the brief journeys to their aircraft. Wing Commander Johnson was in the first -52, “Scarlett Johansson” as it taxied down towards one of the main runways with the others following to their assigned places.

The huge aircraft turned slowly as it reached the end of the mile long concrete strip and with the word from the tower the eight engines whined as Johnson increased the throttles to maximum hauling the heavy aircraft, and its equally heavy payload, forward down the runway and then after nearly half a mile into the air. The other aircraft followed as they received their instructions from the tower and gracefully rose into the air turning west as they did so. The ground crewmen watched them go and then returned to their work that principally involved unloading another batch of C-5’s that had just flown in even more ordinance for the -52’s and other heavy strike aircraft that may use this base as a stopover point.

Forming up into a V of V formation the large aircraft neared the coastline and armed their weapons. The guidance packages on them were taking information from another TWM-1F that was up and supporting the large scale operation along with an escort of F-15C’s.

Once again at maximum range the B-52’s launched their missiles. This time it was eight to each aircraft, meaning that there were a total of 384 missiles in the second wave. Targetting here was done on a more random principle, with the computer on the TWM-1F having nearly a full complement of missiles to control (it is limited to 400) there were inevitably some multiple targeting.

XVI (Airbourne) Corps Headquarters, Stevid

A Blackhawk flared and landed near to the collection of tents and trucks that was XVI Corps Headquarters. Lt. General Hummel had arrived in country twelve hours ago and the Blackhawk was hopefully going to take him to find a Stevid counterpart in order to discuss their mission here.

His Corps was fully in the field. The last main unit to arrive was the Corps heaviest, the 142nd (Air Mobile) Infantry Division with its full Battalion of M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tanks that had been flown in two at a time on dedicated transport aircraft. Now that it was finally forming up it would head west from the airstrips that it had landed on and make XVI into the Corps that is was supposed to be.

Normal IH Corps contained five Divisions but XVI only contained four, the 12th, 52nd and 91st Airbourne and the 142nd (Air Mobile) Infantry. For an IH Corps it was also very unarmoured, with only a single battalion of heavy tanks and two of light tanks for the four divisions. The Corps didn’t even have an Armoured Cavalry Regiment assigned to it.

But what they lacked in firepower they more than made up for in mobility. There were over three hundred Blackhawk helicopters and twice that number of Hueys available to them when all of the Corps assigned equipment had been flown in, not to mention over one hundred and fifty attack helicopters and many more light reconnaissance aircraft.

XVI Corps was currently the only unit under the guise of the newly formed 9th Army. When the Marines arrived they would also fall under its command and make it a real Army rather than a one Corps paper army. Until that happened Lt.General Hummel remained in command and was first setting about getting some liaison from Stevid General Officers about their plans for the future, whilst also sharing with them some plans that his staff had drawn up.

IHS Wake, WASP Class Assault Ship
One Thousand Miles North of Stevid

The troops of the 2nd Battalion of the 145th Marine Assault Regiment were thoroughly fed up after nearly a week at sea in the rolling confines of the two vessels heading to Stevid as the lead elements of their convoy. The convoy was screened by a pair of frigates thirty miles ahead and had a ring of destroyers, frigates and a pair of AEGIS cruisers closer into it.

Along with the two WASP’s there were half a dozen tankers, two supply ships and then twenty four RO/RO transport ships and another twelve container ships that carried numerous supplies and equipment for the troops already in Stevid, as well as hastily assembled stocks of bombs and missiles for the aircraft there.

If all went according to plan they would be berthing in Sunderland within the next three days.

Kriegorgrad

08-01-2006, 22:32

Zarbian Jungles, just beyond the Guffingfordii border

Thom had long since adjusted it so his arms weren’t in the suffocating sleeves of the great coat, which now rested on his shoulders like a cloak – a mark of his officer status without the problem of the sweltering heat it caused. The men were still in their trucks and the great column began to trickle into the dirty roads of the Zarbian jungle and the foul parody of the pleasant Kriegos forests was appearing a lot less hospital: a colourful frog had leapt onto the canvas of the truck and fallen through a rip into the lap of a soldier, who had picked up with a grin and showed his newfound ‘pet’ to the rest of the groups. A few minutes later and he was dead. The Zarbian jungle hated the invaders as much as the Zarbians themselves.

However, despite the foul incident, the troops were relatively calm as the column ground to a lazy halt under the canopies of looming but low trees, Thom leapt out of the back and ran up to the front of the column – only about three or four trucks – to find a group the column’s leader, a major, talking to a few other soldiers of lower rank. Upon noticing Thom, Major Harrod clapped his hands and called out in a rich and deep bourgeois accent to the young lieutenant.

”Well old chap, what do you think this blasted sign means?

The man had a red beret atop his broad head, the whiskers of his moustache moist with humidity as he gestured to the slightly overgrown sign with peeling paint, upon it, written in bold red letters on a plane of white, located below skull-and-crossbones, were the foreign words “¡Campo de minas!” Lieutenant Thom simply shrugged, unsure what the uncivilized tongue meant when translated to Kriegos (English), despite having been taught some Zarbian prior to the campaign, the meaning scratched at the edge of memory before fading away into nothing.

“Not too sure sir, I really couldn’t say…”

The shrug was readily returned by Harrod, who after doing so as an afterthought of displaying his empathy.

”No worries lad… None of us know. Bloody jungle baby tongue!”

A brief spurt of laughter erupted from the group at the obviously racist joke. But of course, in Kriegorgrad, it wasn’t racism, it was simple fact. Kriegos people were the best people on the face of the Earth. Anyone who said otherwise was a fascist oppressor of people unfortunate enough not to live in Kriegorgrad.

”Well, I suppose we’ll just drive on, the sign probably means something ridiculous like “danger, fascism ahead” or something equally rubbish… Alright lads. Back in the trucks.”

The group complied and returned to their respective vehicles, moments later, the column of vehicles rumbled into life again, engines igniting into action and the trucks pushed further into the inhospitable jungle and into the danger that the sign warned of. A danger than any other army who’d bring linguists would’ve been able to avoid or neutralise with some effort.

The column stuck to the road but the men were growing more and more disgruntled at the vile humidity, the omnipresent canopy let no heat escape the metaphorical furnace under its leaves. Relief spread through the column when the first clearing was sighted. A large expanse of tall grass, the only clear way through the straight dirt road the convoy had been following. Clear easy way through. No problems presented themselves and it seemed that all was going to be calm and easy until they arrived at the predicted frontlines – somewhat thirty miles ahead.

Thom looked about the faces of his squad, each of which had a coating of sweat covering their features, the helmets in laps of many soldiers told of the relaxed mood despite the impending ravages of war. Nothing could go wrong.

Boom.

The onomatopoeic herald of death rocked the convoy as the lead vehicle was blown to bits, the second and third vehicle veered off from the road in opposite directions, getting about twenty metres before being ripped apart by high powered, from where it came no-one knew, the fourth vehicle veered off and got someway before being blown asunder by the unseen ambushers. Screams filled Thom’s truck as he heard curses come from the front, the sound of the engine protesting against the punishment it was put under as it sped into the long-grass filled the canvas covered rear-section, soldiers hung onto whatever they could. All seemed to go silent as he heard a light ‘click’ come from beneath the truck before the metal floor curved outwards under the brunt of a brutal mix of fire and shrapnel…

Thom was thrown clear through the open back by the blast, landing face down in a ditch, his coat following him shortly after. Bringing his face up out of the vile foreign soil, he cast a look about, the world blurry and all sound subservient to the overpowering roar of shellshock. Thom’s senses tried to reclaim their territory from the shock of the explosion and the result was him hearing the crescendo of explosions and the crack of Enfield (http://www.jimpruett.net/British%20Enfield/British%20Enfield%20rifles.jpg) rifles blending with the thud-thud of Bren (http://www.junobeach.org/e/4/img/pa-141306sm.jpg) guns, in between the screech of PIAT’s (http://www.members.shaw.ca/junobeach/images/juno-7%20piat%20tn.jpg). Just then, the memory of the meaning of the foreign term resurfaced, and the thought streaked through Thom’s mind.

¡Campo de minas - minefield. But by now, the shellshock had overpowered his senses and Lieutenant Thom was out cold.

Stevid

08-01-2006, 23:12

Oil Fields

The third fleet had arrived one hour before Guffingford’s support fleet arrived, it was a tight call but geographically Stevid was closer to the action than Guffingford was. The Third Fleet was dangerous, second largest in Stevid and equally powerful. It out gunned and out numbered Guffingford’s two fleets put together. The eyesore of the whole thing was the two Catholic Class Super Dreadnoughts in the fleet, the pride and joy of the Stevid navy.
The Admiralty were more than aware of Guffingford’s Sledgehammer missiles and the potential damage they could do to a Super Dreadnought, despite Stevid’s extensive re-fit with new multi-layered armour that was installed on the SDN’s almost five months ago, the Sledgehammer was still a danger to the SDN’s. Any missile with the capability to at least penetrate a SDN’s armour needs to be dealt with. The multi-layered add on that the armour received would help lessen the effects of impact but not to stop the missile totally.

Fleet tactics were essential, the SDN’s would win the battle, so would the cruisers and Battleships also contained within the fleet. Two SDN’s, five Domination BB’s and thirty-two Type-88 Cruisers, were the mainstay of the fleet. Frigates, Destroyers and other types of cruisers were also present in the fleet, but not as important as the three main class of vessels. They had to do what they needed to do- totally eradicate the Guffingfordii fleet.
The fleet was in formation and was out of the battle itself between the small Stevid Oil Field Defence Fleet and the Guffingford Task Force. The Third Fleet had split in two and was advancing slowly and purposely on either side of Guffingford’s flanks. If the Defence fleet had managed it so successfully this far then the Third Fleet could do the same. The formation was the same in both sub fleets. In the centre were the SDN’s and Aircraft Carriers, dotted around them were the Battleships and around them were the Type-88 Cruisers. From there, all the other Cruiser, Frigates and Destroyers were strategically placed around the fleet keeping a both tight and loose formation. The SAMPSON RADAR was providing top cover- Unlike Guffingford’s CELLDAR network, it didn’t require other ships to form a corresponding net that would make up their collective air defence grid, SAMPSON was smaller, easier to maintain and to operate, It took up smaller space and every single ship in the whole Stevid Royal Navy had it. Each one operated in dependently to each other but also worked collectively when called upon. In short, it wasn’t dependants on the fleet to maintain the RADAR network when the whole fleet could operate their own RADAR separately.
And it didn’t stop there- the Stevid Navy holds it’s ECM/ECCM network with high esteem. Operating similarly to Guffingford CELLDAR network, Stevid had a rotating ECM/ECCM pulse, confusing RADAR and Communication network at the higher neural band of the network. The only thing operating as much energy as that was Guffingford’s CELLDAR network. The rotating pulse would only marginally effect allied communications and RADAR. Stevid prided itself on its ECM/ECCM technology, the one piece of naval technology where they could stick two fingers up at Guffingford.

With the pulse being emitted by every ship in the fleet and SAMPSON RADAR working simultaneously with everyone else’s, and with the tactics and battle formations drawn, battle was to shortly commence.

Captain Hastings of the HMS Christi XVII, A Catholic Class SDN, was deep inside the ship in the control room, watching the RADAR screen at everything in the local area. A total of at least five of Guffingford’s ship now looked out of action and a few other were beginning the struggle, and the new formation of Guffingford’s support fleet that had just arrived were all being displayed on the screen. Hundreds of large circles indicating the range of the SAMPSON system the now covered the Guffingford fleets, and a massive pulsating red circle coming from both fleets showing the ECM/ECCM pulse. The pulse filled the screen and beyond and even the rigs were covered, the ECCM was also spherical and so was providing ECM/ECCM coverage for aircraft as well, Stevid had the slight advantage.
He nodded to himself and re-called the meeting he had had two hours ago….

Two Hours Ago- Docklands Naval Base

It was a large circular conference room, polished wooden desk and chairs with a very large screen at one end of the room. The room was full of Naval and Air Force officials, in the screen were live video images of IH Air Force Commanders and the Prime Minister of Stevid. They were all there discussing the Tactics that they would be using during the battle.

Hastings stood up and addressed them all.
“So we’ve agreed on the split of the Third Fleet, IH’s air attack on the Guffingford fleet, and the rotating EM pulse that we’ll use. IH are also sending a support fleet with troops to Sunderland and will arrive in a few days.
But now we have to agree on the final strategy. The MoD has filed this plan of action from Red Folder #0957354. Guffingford’s RADAR network is exquisite, very few flaws and very up to date. It does have one weakness… err…just in case this room is bugged, despite the security sweeps or spies actually in the room, I won’t say it allowed. All the top ranking officials and our IH counterparts have a one-page supplement of the tactics. Feel free to open them and read them.”

The room was completely silent for one minute while they all read and probably re-read the tactics. The First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Alan West, stood up with a raised hand.

“I like it,” he said, and others nodded in reply as did the IH air commanders on the other side. “In fact it will probably work…no…it will. Our missile fire, gunnery and co-operation with our allies will be paramount. Our point defence grid will provide at least 75% protection before we complete the object listed here. But we have to do this quickly, the oilrigs aren’t invincible and will fall soon if we don’t act fast.”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“Well I won’t keep you ladies and gentlemen.” Said Hastings “Get to your ships, we sail in one hour.”

Oil Fields- Present

Hastings shook his head and the stood up straight and walked over to the communication panel and picked up a speaker and pressed a button. His voice rang out across the massive ship.

“All hands- brace-brace-brace.” And the replaced the speaker.

The tactical officer looked at the captain, and Hastings looked straight back at him and nodded.
“Tactical,” he said “Triangulate course, distance and trajectory of four enemy ships using our ECM pulse and SAMPSON RADAR. Lock ALL port 25” cannons on four separate ships. Also lock ALL port side secondary weapons on separate ships after the initial volley. Remember, infrastructures on the ship containing the CELLDAR network relays. Secondary armament is to be used to either finish the job or destroy the command structure of the ship, i.e. the bridge. But the Network antenna has to be destroyed. After the volley the fleet will fire missiles… but first the cannons… triangulate, NOW!”

The great 25” guns on the port side swivelled round on an axis and were pointing towards the first Guffingfordii fleet. They sat there for a good ten minutes not doing anything but slowly tracing the Guffingfordii fleet. Before they stopped and seemed to be pointing away from some of the more important ships. It was deceptive though, the SAMPSON system triangulated the course, distance and trajectory of the shells down to half a metre. The technology was amazingly accurate, Guffingford possessed CELLDAR and was more than capable of repeating this tactic, but if this worked Guffingford wouldn’t have a CELLDAR network over the battlefield. The guns were al trained on Guffingford’s ships with the distinctive masts that controlled the CELLDAR system emitters, it was only matter of time now- with support from two air forces, the end was nigh for Guffingford’s fleet.

“Lieutenant… you may fire at will…”
“Aye sir…” replied the tactical officer with a deep voice. He flicked the cover of the switch that covered the red button for the cannon control. His finger hovered above the button for less than a millisecond- but in that time flashed images of his past where he had condemned the lives of hundreds of men and women the same way he was doing now.
His finger plunged into the button and the ship jerked violently and heavily the starboard as the port gunnery rocked the ship. The auto-stabilizers kicked into action and the ship levelled itself. The noise was deafening inside but was ignored by many members of the crew- months of gunnery practise had taught them to adapt.

25” guns readied themselves and the reloading. Meanwhile, the shells fired from the four cannons flied at their four separate targets. Uranium tipped shells with enough ballistic energy to worry even Guffingford’s armour- but it wasn’t the ship itself being shot at- it was the masts on board holding the CELLDAR emitters that were the targets.
The SAMPSON RADAR, ECM/ECCM rotations all contributing to the salvo, the shells were deadly accurate- even the super computer took time to get the triangulations absolutely perfect. The shells had at least 80% to 90% chance of actually hitting the target. Hastings took no chances, before his shells had even hit the Guffingfordii fleet he ordered the secondary armament to fire.

“All port secondary armament and all battleships in Fleet 3:1 are to fire at the enemy. SHOOT!”

The Ship rocked again but not so violently as over fifteen guns fired a salvo, the battleships did the same.

“Good- I can guarantee, that first salvo will wreak havoc in their fleet…” he sighed “Lets see the results.”
He looked back at the RADAR screen only too aware that fleet 3:2 had done exactly the same thing on Guffingford’s opposite flank.

Guffingford

09-01-2006, 11:50

OOC: http://www.thales-airdefence.com/ficheMASTERT.htm pump it up to PMT and you'll understand.

IC:
Near the oilrigs

The fleet at the front was taking heavy hits, but was still able to fend off the B52s coming from the Stevid mainland almost completely. Long before they could release their payload, AA missiles from the cruisers were already airborne and shot down many planes before they came in range. The missiles that were released however, delivered some damage but not as much as Independent Hitmen hoped for. The B52's, flying at only 30,000 feet - quite low - were easy to detect from land and by the AWACs flying behind the fleet, which was still gunning down airplanes from Stevid. The smaller, supporting ships of this fleet was taking hits, but the Aasimars and Belknaps were a very uneasy prey to harm. Regular shellfire from non-SD vessels did little to no damage, as the UHTS layers absorbed most of the blast energy, and redirecting the energy to the bulkheads. Holes were slammed into the armour, but was peanuts compared to the damage done to the Royal Airforce. The Catholic Class SD from Stevid was obviously too slow to steer into another course, as the faster and lighter classes of the Guffingfordian navy began to evade the heavy shellfire by the super dreadnaught. Incoming missiles will be taken down by the combined IRCAN and SIRIUS systems, rendering those useless. So far everything went very well, their super dreadnaught was going down.

<techbabble>
It didn't matter the engaging Guffingfordian fleet was taking damage. There was already a new fleet on its way - the capabilities of the industry of Guffingford are endless. One fleet down, and it will be replaced by two new ones. Their super dreadnaught didn't pose a threat, not by a long shot. All of their assumptions made regarding the extensive Guffingfordian threat assessment systems, detection suites are horribly flawed. How can they know we use multiple systems overlapping each other? SAMPSON, CELLDAR plus all the other systems. Blue LADAR II, OTH, and other decent systems? Compared to us, Stevid's blind. Fooling us with some noise? Try again next time. If we cannot rely on digital image, visual aid is a welcome solution. Or many others systems currently in use, the options are infinite. And honestly, can it really be that hard to miss a ship over at least .75 miles long?

"Sir, we have some kind of weak jamming pulse coming from Stevid."

"Now that was completely unexpectable. Work your way around it, follow the written steps to get rid of it. In the meantime, switch to the Blue LADAR II network. Put on the visual tracking of their fleets with our satellites, live uplink of course. Infra-red view, highest resolution. GPS locking and tracking."

"Aye sir. I will also put on the anti-chaff, active jamming protection and clutter protection on. It takes little while to power up and reset the system, but it'll pay off."

"You do that, and thank you."

"Aye sir."

The ships behind the frontlines weren't affected by the noise created by Stevid. They got their information straight from the satellite networks, and GPS systems. Overall a very tight grid where not a thing goes unnoticed. Whereas Guffingford uses POD and waterjet propulsion, Stevid still goes with propellors. Not a problem, it just makes targetting a whole lot easier for us.
</techbabble>

Well behind the frontlines of the naval battle, the small yet extremely powerful Gulf Class (http://forums.modernwarstudies.net/wbb2/thread.php?threadid=24) anti-ship frigate threw out the anchor and awaited the signal to commence fire on the Catholic Class dreadnaughts. Only twelve Gulfs were present, but more wasn't needed.
Keeping super dreadnaughts at bay isn't a very difficult task to handle. They're slow, lumbering and difficult to move around. Missing them is practically impossible. After a while of loading the VLS cells with the lethal sledgehammer missiles, thirty in total, the signal was given to open fire on the Stevid SD. In an instant, thirty missiles were blasted into the pale sky, only to rain down at Mach 17 onto their pride of the seas.

It wasn't difficult to predict the outcome of this once-in-a-lifetime encounter with the sledgehammer. Punching through the most solid armour types, the deadly velocity and destructive load, this will make short work of any ship. The missiles have been programmed to explode three (3) seconds after impact, so it has some time to do a little sightseeing inside the hull, before spreading the love. When the first volley of thirty left the ship, another volley of thirty was scheduled when the first missiles hit the ship. Putting all your hope on one single ship isn't wise, strength comes from unity. Strength rarely comes from one being or object. Safe from hostile engagements, the Gulf class ships laid at a fairly large distance away from each other. If one was hit, then others wouldn't be caught in the blast.

Guffingford

12-01-2006, 17:55

This is Secret IC

First National Hoogenbosch Banking & Trust

"Pressure on Stevid can only be upheld if we find more ways to damage their assets both on the seas, in the air, on the land and economically. Surely we can find ways to make their life even more... Unfun?"

"Why of course Mr. Thaddick, but I am afraid we cannot solely rely on the military muscle to do the thinking. We have been commissioned to find a solid solution to destroy confidence in Stevid's economy, and we have came up with several theories. Most of them are rather unimportant, but we have taken one from the grey mass of mediocrity and I present you this plan..."

"Explain to me Mr. DeVerran, I know you are very keen on creating such schemes."

"Why thank you Mr. Thaddick, this plan involves the skills of the best printers of Guffingford. Gravure printing, serial numbers and other things are needed. We hold quite a lot of Stevid state bonds, with an annual interest rate of 6%. This was arranged when this country and Stevid were still allies, but we are now at war. We cannot assume they will sell us any more bonds, so we will have to work with what we have. First we need to make it known to the citizens, corporations all assets currently held by Stevid are to be confiscated. Mortgages, shares, real estate... Everything except their clothes and the kitchen sink."

"Sounds good DeVerran, carry on."

"Yes... Where was I? Oh, right. We shall also confiscate whatever their state currently possesses in Guffingfordian assets. Partial ownership of mining companies, gold bonds. The things that are profitable for Guffingford will remain state owned, but all of Stevids bonds will be sold. Since no one knows what percentage everyone holds - since trade has made completely untracable - we can claim we have astronomical amounts. People will believe it, considering the close ties between our nations of the past."

"Indeed, so what are we exactly going to do with the bonds, we have gathered through the years?" Thaddick asked.

"Sell them." DeVerran said firmly.

"Sell them? I can see the logic behind that, but how are we going to destroy the confidence in Stevid's economy just by selling his state bonds?"

"We reproduce them until the market is saturated with his bonds. We'll reprint the ones with the highest denomination, one thousand pounds. The interest rate will do the rest if its paid per three or six months."

"This is forgery DeVerran. I do not like it."

"Well the government did not specify it has to be within the bounds of the law, so I've taken a few extra liberties." DeVerran stated proudly.

"I've noticed. Anyway, how are you going to do this? With what means, and the funds for this black operation?" Thaddick continued to ask.

"Worry not my friend, the ministry of state has given me the initial payment of seventeen million gulden to struggle through the first stages of bureaucracy and to make it easier for me to maneuver around the Guffingfordian financial establishment. First I need to buy all real bonds."

"Of course. So I take it when you have them all, the sales will commence and the presses will begin to print?"

"Exactly Mr. Thaddick. The stream of Stevid state bonds will continue until the initial buyers begin to sell. First off I'll leak to the press the government is looking for potential buyers for large quanities of the bonds. Considering Stevid's reputation and position of being a trustworthy nation, we will find plenty of fools willing to buy."

"Very good. And the buyers will continue to buy, even though they're fake. They do not know how much we have, nor do they know how much we have bought in the past. It sounds very solid, and I begin to like the sound of it." Thaddick interrupted DeVerran, but he didn't mind. Thaddick liked it, so all's good. With his fiat the presses can start rolling.

"When that happens we say we have kept a small amount of bonds and we claim Stevid refuses pay up the initial payment, we start the confiscation. Looking for the most highly prized assets will be our primary objective. Perhaps we can even look to Stevid, 'persuading' some important Guffingfordian shareholders to hand over their share portfolio to us."

Zarbia

13-01-2006, 14:29

Blood in the Jungle: First Clash Between Zarbian and Kriegos Forces

The impenetrable silence of the jungle was broken by the sound of massive explosions; suddenly there was movement everywhere. The sky was filled with birds, shrieking and fleeing the scene of danger. Small animals, frightened by this unknown source of terror, scurried past, in the trees and on the ground. It was the Guffingordians; they had encountered a minefield.

Lt Colonel Arias let a sly smile cross his face. Finally, after almost two weeks of trekking through this unforgiving jungle, him and his battalion had found their prize. For the last ten days they had stuck close to a useless dirt trail, another service road leading straight into Guffingford, long abandoned and fallen into bad condition. Under his control, almost three hundred soldiers and two military jeeps outiftted with machine guns.

"Do you hear that?" he cried, doing nothing to hide the enthusiasm in his voice, "That's the sound of death! Our enemies have stumbled upon a minefield!"

Lionel Arias was a rather sadistic officer, one who had no regard for human life or suffering. His fast progression in military rank was due to his bloodthirsty nature and it was rumoured that even his superiors were afraid of him. His uniform, torn in many places, hung loosely from his body while two long knives were stuck through his belt. He was not the only one who looked this way, the entire battalion had the appearance of guerilla fighters rather than a regular army unit. They were, however, the first defenses against the invasion; by no means high class soldiers.

"Follow me!" he screamed, and hugging his G36 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G36) close to him, darted through the vegetation, his men hot on his heels. Branches slapped at him as Lionel ducked down and charged through, he could feel his skin getting scratched by the wilderness but he did not care. Suddenly he stopped at a clearing, in front of him stood a weathered sign warning of landmines ahead. His followers arrived behind him shortly, moving double speed through the jungle.

"Listen to me!" Arias roared at his soldiers, "We're on the edge of a minefield, so walk slowly and carefully. Let's move!"

Lionel Arias let a few of his troops pass him before continuing, his eyes skirting the ground for signs of hidden mines. You could never be certain of anything in the Zarbian military, exactly when this field had beet set up was as much of a mystery to the Zarbians as it was to the those who had walked into it.

Without any warning there was a thundering explosion and screams of pain from in front of Arias, who stood rooted in place, not risking any movement. When the smoke cleared, three bodies clad in the green camoflauge of the Zarbian army lay on the ground, two black and motionless from the explosion while one rolled around on the leafy forest floor, strangled whimpers of pain escaping from his lips.

"Well, then, don't go any further than Rodriguez," Arias said, referring to the man who had set off the explosive device. The way in which Arias had said it, with an almost indifferent tone, would normally make one feel sick. But the Zarbians loved their country and their leaders and if this man was their superior they would follow him until death.

The force continued moving, hugging the edge of the clearing as tightly as possible, they could now see smoke rising from past the trees in front of them. Arias cut through the jungle, closely followed by his battalion, until he reached the edge of the field where the enemy was. As he peered past a hanging leaf, he noticed military trucks all over the place, obviously blown sky high by the landmines. He saw a few soldiers trying to collect themselves among the tall grass after the vicious trap they had unknowningly moved into.

"Let's kill these sons of bitches," he spat to his men and shouldered his assault rifle, moving forward slowly.

It seemed as though time had slowed down, Arias and his soldiers almost tiptoed forward, getting into position to fire upon the wounded enemy. A tire of one of the upturned trucks spun in circles, slowing down as its momentum was drained. The first burst of bullets ended the lapse in time, ferocious screams erupted from the throat of Arias as he pressed his finger down hard on his trigger. The noise of machine gun spray was deafening as the rest of the Zarbians joined him; a swarm of bullets filled the air. But louder and clearer than anything else was the sound of death, a sound that delighted Lt Colonel Arias as it reached his ears.

Guffingford

15-01-2006, 11:47

“Senior Officer Rocksbourg I’m most pleased with…” While the commanding officer was announcing his gratitude about the swift construction of the trenches and other fortifications, but were disturbed in the Commander’s tent when a private ran in shouting to take cover; a Zarbian bombing raid. As the bombs fell down, the soldiers jumped into the trenches and through the tunnels to find a safe place, a shelter. One mile behind the front, the AA missile batteries – not fully operational – began to pick their targets and shot down several Zarbian planes, but not all. Not enough ammunition, no sufficient RADAR coverage yet, and a lack of trained personnel to operate the AA missile installations.

“Jesus! What the hell is happening?” A soldier, obviously in panic screamed through the tight and moist crawlspace beneath the trenches, his eyes, instead of white and blue, turned red and his arteries were almost bursting. His heavy breathing, and his state of total fear weren’t the only signs he never been into combat before. Others were showing the same signs, the veterans didn’t mind. Some of the rookies were throwing up, praying, others were doing both. If it wasn’t war, it’d be comedy.

“When are we gonna attack sir?” With the commander dead, senior officer Rocksbourg was only man left in charge to issue direct orders such as an attack. Other soldiers were turning into raving madmen, the attack went on and on. The bombs kept falling like snow, thankfully the trenches can hold… “What the hell is happening there, private what in fucks name’s going on there?”

“Sir we had a cave-in, the bombs blasted through the concrete and destroyed the supportive…” Yelling at Rocksbourg, and under protest from his soldiers, Rocksbourg had no choice but to abandon the crawlspace and make it to the surface. Raging fires, a certain doom with a touch of passion from the Zarbian pilots. They are killing with passion, dropping havoc from the once to quiet and peaceful skies. Is this war worth all the senseless slaughter, the needless killing, the onslaught? Yes it is. This day the People’s Militia of Guffingford suffered tremendous losses, but Rocksbourg and his men made it. Many others didn’t. After hours of bombing, the atmosphere turned quiet and serene once more, and now it was time for vengeance.

OOC: Kind of short, but you'll get the idea.

The Macabees

15-01-2006, 18:42

Battle for La Gloria
The morning sky was streaked with a myriad of brilliant white stars. Their glow offered an eerie contrast to the lighting of the moon, and the two colors seem to fit together, manifesting peace. Regardless, below the mere mortals where scoured the Earth for war began their final preperations for an all out offensive into Zarbia. Already, thousands of artillery guns had lined up in the form of grand batteries, ready to pummel the Zarbians back into line and open a gap which would at one point allow the Empire to seize La Gloria, the nearest Zarbian citadel. Two mechanized divisions and an armoured division were already squeezed into the front, ready to pounce on the Zarbian Antelope. Monte Claro had been warned, but the Zarbians paid no attention with their usual pretentious attitudes. To their own fault they would face a fury of cannon fire and the ferocious teeth of the Macabee army. To the battlecry of, "Temperkui," would they see their very cities crumble before their eyes, their people be slaughtered, and their civilization slashed and burned, to the beat of Macabee war drums. It would begin...

In the dead of the morning night, at around three, one thousand guns opened with a fury unbeknownst to the gods themselves. One thousand guns pounded invariably at the Zarbian positions, offering them lead and napalm explosive. One thousand shells per twenty seconds, for a full twenty minutes; meaning, no less than sixty thousand shells were to be expended that very morning on the Zarbian heathen. The ground shook, and the light Zarbian jungles of the west were torn down in an awsome display of Imperial firepower. The systematic boom, boom, boom, of the cannons provided a very monotonous tone of war, but the artillery offered no mercy, no consolidation - they were murderers, and Zarbia was their victim. For twenty mintes the hell lasted, the shells shrieking through the dark skies, tainting the stars with streaks of red and blue, with the occasional orange, and then crashing into Zarbia, dazzling the human eye with a conglomeration of white and violet. When it was finally over an ear piercing silence befell both the Zarbian jungles and the flatlands of the Empire. It was as if the war had suddenly stopped.

But that conjecture was most certainly a fallacy. Minutes later the next sounds filtered through, and witnessed the movement of massed men. The two mechanized divisions had already begun to move out, some of them in large trucks, and those that led in the SOV-6 infantry fighting vehicles. They had begun to cruise through the multitude of roads that weaved through the Empire, but traffic began soon after as trucks and other vehicles merged into the single roads that penetrated into Zarbia. Nonetheless, the sperhead got underway almost perfectly, although a bit seperated from reinforcements. Regardless, they pursued into Zarbia and stopped at least eleven kilometers from the Zarbian position, calling home one of the first 'firebases' produced by the bombers, which although had no construction, it would serve as a temporary rondevouz area for one of the divisions. To their flank, the armoured division made better headway, not caught up with trucks and such, and having their logistics behind them. They would continue until they were around fifteen kilometers from the Zarbian flank. From there, all hell would break lose.

The commander of all three divisions, Colonel General Albrecht Dier, looked at a series of maps, along with fellow generals and other commanders, and he thought for a second, his face contorted with the view of a man thinking. Suddenly he said, "This is what we'll do. The 16th will made a sweep on the Zarbian flank; their right. The two mechanized divisions will form a spearpoint against the lines, crashing head on, attempting to break through. In the end, it will be a combination of pure pressure, and outright destruction, which will force the Zarbian line to crumble."

The generals nodded and then one asked, "And if the Zarbians move reserves to place a block for our armour?" This one got the general thinking again.

But he responded nonetheless, "The armour will simply have to be rerouted, and it will have to move fast enough to make this impossible for the Zarbians. Understood?"

The same general conjectured, "I would think that our armour is too heavy. These are jungles, after all. I would have doubts to any speed."

This obviously peturbed Dier and he retorted, "Nonsense. Leave your gibberish for those who care general." Nobody said a word.

And so the advance continued in the morning. By six that morning the three divisions had successfully rondevouzed, after unfortunate traffic build-up and such. And so, soon thereafter the full on invasion began; Operation Diadem. That same day, the mechanized divisions struck into the Zarbian lines, using their full furty to attempt to break them, prodded along by the constant bombardment of Zarbian positions by Macabee artillery to the rear. The onslaught would continue for quite some time. The SOV-6s stopped about three thousand meters from the Zarbian positions, in the jungle, and let loose their hordes of infantry. Together, the two began to quickly advance, the SOV-6s providing light armoured support with their multiple machineguns, and the infantry giving rifle support. Slowly, but surely, they would make sure the Zarbian lines reeled. All the while, the flank had movements as well. The armour made a wide manuever away from the Zarbians, and then came crashing back down to the rear, striking straight on the side of the Zarbian line, and behind it, not only cutting off portions from logistical supplies, but piercing them were they had not expected to be hit. The fires of war raged.

Nobody seemed to hear the lowest rumble in the sky; all were too preoccupied with the fighting before them. But it was certainly visible from at least four kilometers away. For sixty meters, the artillery tube, underlined by a thin titanium ramp, reached for the sky. It was a monster. It was the 'Anat, named after the Levantine godess of war. Sixty meters worth of artillery, with a 1200mm diameter bore; it was the mother of all artillery, propelled by a single fission reactor in a hull over seventy-five meters long, and itself at least seventeen meters high, with the artillery completing a total altitude of seventy-seven meters. It was the godess of artillery. It had the tendency to snap under intense pressures, so its bombardment would be saved for later - but its presence would make the Zarbians shake.

"Temperkuí!"

Stevid

15-01-2006, 19:28

The crew of the HMS Orthodox, the other Catholic Super Dreadnought that present at the engagement, didn’t see the explosion of their sister ship in the deep depths of the control room. However, those members that just happened to be on the deck and those who were currently on the bridge, couldn’t miss the bang. The light flashed across the sea and twenty sledgehammer missiles had crashed into the other SDN before detonating after impact. The CIWS systems put up a large amount of fire and might of skimmed off the missiles, but the speed of which they were approching was incredible. The evaded the fire from most of the fleet and their sensors didn't seem to be overly effected by the ECCM pulse being realesed by the fleet. The massive amount of esscort confused some of the missile as the direverted their course and miss the large Dreadnought. Many didn't, twenty screwed themselves into the compund hull of the dreadnought before detonating cause massive wide spread damage throughout the whole ship.
Plumes of smoke, pitch black, rose from the stricken Dreadnought, the infrastructure on the aft-port-quadrant and been breached and severely damaged the explosion- despite the armours best efforts, the missiles had breached and destroyed some minor systems in the crews recreational areas and flight deck control. The missiles also struck the prow-port quadrant and had rock the seaboard stabilizers and secondary engine room just below the waterline. The casualties from the strike were unknown that this stage, the internal communication cells had been servered rendering most onboard communication useless, from what many people from neighbouring ship claimed that it could total above the two hundred mark, esspecially in the engine room.
The secondary engines were offline and she was taking on water, lots of water. The bulkheads closed and emergency hull purge systems kicked into action in an attempt to save the ship. The weapon systems took a battering but all and all weren't damaged beyond repair, the engine systems were more or less destroyed. The fact the Guffingford could pump out more and more of those missile was worring- the captain had already wisely shut down the reators to the main engines and ordered engineers below decks in the engine rooms to get into fire gear and fight the huge fires that had broken out.
The ship was in general chaos outside of the control room which was taking things as they came but everywhere else was in chaos, walking wounded, dead lay bleeding in the corridors, it was straight out of a horror film. The carnage was unbelievable.

The last problem was the fires that were started by the missiles. The diesel/petroleum secondary engines had exploded causing wide spread devastation on the deck the engine room was on, fires burned almost uncontrollably while fire crew arrived en mass the dowse the flames from hell.

The captain of the other SDN heard the news quickly and from then on it spread quicker than the fire on their sister ship.
“RADAR…… track the missiles…… which bastard of a ship launched those missiles…COME ON!!!! DAMN IT!!” yelled the captain uncontrollably at his RADAR operator.
“Sir, RADAR reports ships at distance launching these missiles from over the horizon and at the target ships.”
“Range?”
“No chance sir- not for anti-ship missiles…”
“Options people!”
The tactical officer immediately spoke up.
“Ballistic missiles sir- nuclear.”
“Negative, I’m a captain of the Royal Navy, not a monster. Any other suggestions tactical?”
“Yes, Ballistic missiles again but conventional… we have a large complement of those missiles. We launch the missiles, they leave the inner atmosphere and then drop over the target enemies and then splits into multiple warheads. They then explode in mid-air and then falls molten steel rain upon their ships. Any aircraft below five thousand feet is completely and utterly destroyed, The Guffingford ships will get coated with the stuff. Their armour protects them from such heat- but this is almost steel rain, it will clog up systems and such coat the missile racks. It might render the ship useless.”
“Worth a try… fire the missile at will.”
The ship made the lock on within five minutes and the missile was launched. Grey smoke rose from the second SDN as the ballistic missile was fired and it shot up into the air and ninety degrees vertical from the ship as it sped towards to inner atmosphere before levelling out.
“Missile locked on target… missile approaching target at mid way point of upper atmosphere……… missile beginning decent… speed mach 12… detonation in five, four, three, two, one, missile detonation confirmed.”

The men from both fleets were again treated to more fireworks as the missile exploded above the Gulf Class vessel many miles away from the fight. Area of the sky lit up brightly- a white, blinding light appeared like a cloud over the enemy ships and then disappeared and the molten steel rain dropped from the skies, right over the Guffingford Gulf Class vessels.

“Tactical,” said the captain lowly, “Damage report please on the enemy ships…”

OOC: Sorry for the shortish post....

Independent Hitmen

17-01-2006, 18:28

9th (Tactical) AirForce Command Post, Stevid

Air Force General Tompkins was the newly constituted Commander of the 9th (Tactical) Air Force. His command post was currently in a Stevid bunker from where he had communication links to his own people but also Stevid High Command, a teleconference with whom he had just finished regarding future tactics.

The conflict had not started particularly well for the IH Air Force. They had lost thirty B-52’s to the unknown enemy radar network, and Wing Commander Johnson had barely escaped with his life after a missile fragment caused extensive fuel leaks in his aircraft. The more nimble Strike Eagles had fared a lot better, being able to outrun the SAM’s launched from the Guffingford fleet.

As Tompkins’ Operations Officer continued the conversation with his opposite number at Royal Air Force Command the General went towards the plotting table that showed his units locations and strengths. All but the 7th was at full strength after only token showings by the Guffingford Air Force over the naval battle raging below. Tompkins was preparing to throw his entire force capable of launching Air to Surface Missiles at the enemy flotilla, but logistical strains meant that this could not be done for several more hours.

Marine Command Facility, Just outside Sunderland
North Eastern Stevid

The 2nd Battalion 145th Marine Assault Regiment had successfully disembarked from its transports during the day and was now lingering around the outskirts of the city. The men had been given temporary leave to explore the shops around this and get a gauge on the people that they were here to defend. For the most part they got on well, the inherent tightness of IH Marines meant that several Stevid shop owners became irate when they attempted to bargain them down on the price for the goods that they wanted.

When the orders came through to return to the convoy of trucks and HMMWV’s that littered the hard shoulder of the nearby motorway the men returned burdened with local produce and significantly poorer than they had previously been. Meanwhile their commanders were already liaising with local Stevid commanders in an attempt to get the troops into training with the local forces as quickly as possible.

IHS New Hampshire, New England Class Fleet Carrier,
Flagship of the 2nd Fleet

“Admiral Sir, transmission from Fleet HQ.”

Admiral McWalter paused before putting a piece of steak into his mouth.

“Read it out, cant you see that I’m eating Foley!”

“Of course Sir. Fleet HQ advises of heavy contact between Stevid and Guffingford Naval Units around the Inner Sea Oil Platforms. Current situation is not looking particularly bright for either side, but satellite pictures are unclear as to who has the decisive advantage.”

“Well we have three days before our aircraft are in range of the South Eastern tip of Stevid let alone the Inner Sea area. Keep me informed of this Captain, that will be all.”

The Admiral returned to his food.

OOC: Apologise for the short crappy post, I’m still here just a bit busier with exams than I thought I would be. Hopefully a better post coming soon.

NationStates Jolt Archive

Guffingfordian Troops Amass Near Zarbian Border