Blood of Heros (Open, MT, WAR-REALISM)
Thirty years ago.. the Federation had been forced out of Feluca and on their heels, millions of angry Felucans. The anthro race of slaves had risen up against their masters, secretly building or stealing military equipment when they could until finally they had an army to rival that of the Federation.
A long, bloody campaign through mountains, lowlands, plains, forests and icefields had left the Felucans wounded but in control of their new country and for the first time, their future.
A government was soon formed and from that humble beginning, a new power came to be. With dedicated, motivated, intelligent soldiers forming the backbone of New Feluca, the anthros cast their gaze across the South Sea towards the distant lands where the Federation leadership had fled to. The Federation's dictator had managed to burrow his way into a position of power there, and swiftly that nation had degenerated into what Feluca had once been.
Eventually, that dictator had died at the hands of his own son, hungry for power, who had staged a coup to capture the seat of power in the Federation's new land. With insatiable lust for money, for new territory, for fresh conquest, the Federation had slowly spread like a cancer to neighboring countries. Use of force and threats had been abound, and over time the Federation's military might had grown, a shadow cast across the ground as the sun set on freedom...
The Felucans are left with no other choice. The remnants of the Federation must be destroyed.. and the only way to quench the flames of conquest is with the blood of heros..
OOC: Information on equipment used in the following may be found here, http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=462589
The sleepy beachfront hill country facing the ocean was quiet at this time of day. Still an hour until the sun would appear over the horizon, still an hour until the nocturnal animals would begin to shuffle off to bed and sleep away the daylight hours.
An orange housecat sat on a garbage can outside of a sprawling beachfront home set up in the hills. After a night of rummaging through its owner's garbage for leftover chinese food, it was rather content to sit there and lick at its fur, cleaning.
A rumble in the distance caught its attention though. The sound of an airplane was not an unusual thing, but to the sensitive ears of a feline, the sky seemed filled with engines.
1st Airborne Expeditionary Unit, 1st Batallion
Locked up in the belly of a C-1 Dropmaster, Captain Masterson stood at the head of two lines of paratroopers facing the rear of the airplane. The cargo master stood nearby, safely harnessed to the airplane as not to fall out when the doors open.
A pair of lights set into the cieling was under the scrutiny of both men. The red light on the left was burning brightly.
Moments later, the red light went dark, and the green light began to flash.
The cargo master hit his controls, and the body of the C-1 was flooded with a wave of air, wind sucked out the back. Captain Masterson lifted his gloved fist into the air, swirling it around in circles. Then he reached behind himself, patting the man behind him on the hip. That person did the same, and so on until every paratrooper was notified.
It was another twenty seconds before the green light became solid, as opposed to flashing. Without hesitation, Captain Masterson stepped out and into the night, leaving behind him two rows of falling paratroopers spaced out two seconds apart.
It has begun.
OOC: Is the C-1 full of Anthrop
Office of Military Intellgence
A fox and human officer looked at the report. They called the Head of Intellgence. Who told them to watch the situtation, and report when something happens.
OOC: Yes. The entire nation of New Feluca are anthros.
Hundreds of parachutes drifted silently down through the predawn darkness. Only the soft thud of a paratrooper hitting the ground, feet together, knees slightly bent and body tucking into an impact-absorbing roll would be noticable.
In the center of the drop pattern, several huge parachutes safely landed pallets of equipment. Soldiers trotted over and began to open up the stores, while others formed a perimeter around the dropzone, which was a sprawling corn farm big enough to land a batallion in.
With their flip-down night vision goggles on, the soldiers of the 1st AEU began to get their bearings. Someone had thrown out a strobe, which flickered to those wearing the night vision gear, letting them know where to assemble.
The actions were huried but professional and drilled, swiftly unpacking some of the heavier, vital gear and then moving out in platoon sized groups towards their specific objectives.
The owner of the farm and his wife lay sleeping in bed. They did not notice the gentle scrape of boots on their rooftop, nor the slither of black ropes that dropped down just outside the window. Seconds later, black-armored forms came crashing through the window, two paratroopers having kicked off the wall and right into the glass.
The body armor, helmets and goggles protected them from the glass, and they were up on their feet in a flash with shortened, carbine versions of the AR1 Felucan rifle to their shoulders. One, a large, bulky bear was bellowing, "On the floor now! Now! Now!" to which the suprised and frightened couple complied. They were handcuffed with zip-tie cuffs and set on the edge of the bed while other paratroopers filed into the house downstairs.
The bear was talking, showing 'jump wings' insignia on the shoulders of his armor. "We will not hurt you. We will be using your property, probably only until the morning. We will release your handcuffs, on the condition that you cooperate and do not attempt to escape. An escape attempt would not work out in your favor." Spoken in a deep, rough voice that seemed to promise 'not in your favor' probably meant being cut down by a SAW.
As dawn began to cast its rays over the ocean, it would reveal several soldiers sitting on the roof of the farmhouse, looking through binoculars towards the small town set into the hills of the northern Federation coastline. The Felucans had established a position, but securing the town would be another matter. Things were clear, and so word was sent back that it is clear to land.
On the horizon hundreds of landing craft could be seen, primarily the hovercraft type with about fourty soldiers each, with a few heavier, standard landing craft bearing APCs in addition to infantry.
Within half an hour, the hovercraft were beaching, skimming along the sand and then into the hills as marines lept out, dashing towards the cover of the cornfields. Their deliverys done, the hovercraft turned and broke through the waves, heading into the ocean again.
Something had happened. Somehow, word was out. Through his binoculars, Captain Masterson could see a police car parked on the side of the road, about a mile away. The police officer stood beside the vehicle, talking into his radio and squinting towards the farmhouse. Other police cars were converging on the first with their lights flashing. It was too far away to hear the sirens.
"Looks like we need to start soon. They're gonna call out their militia." Masterson commented to his aide, a fresh-looking female hare wearing Lieutenant's insignia. She bobbed her head, chewing nervously on some combat rations.
"Yes sir. We have E Company deployed blocking the only access road that leads to this farm from the highway. And A and C companies are already dug in in the field and here at the house." She checked her laptop, "There's two batallions of the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Unit that just landed too, sir. The 3rd MEU said they're gonna leave a couple companies down on the beach to help secure the unloading of their equipment, but they can commit the better part of two batallions to taking this town."
A few minutes later, a couple of mortar rounds landed near the group of police cars parked on the highway, which caused them to hop into their vehicles and speed further up the road, where a green painted military jeep was rushing to meet them.
The small town's militia was assembling at a football field in the town, sleepy-eyed and confused that they had been called out of bed so early in the morning. Citizen soldiers mostly, the army regulars would be on the way.
Word was out now. The Felucan's bid to finish off the Federation was on.
OOC: Mine is Hurmans and them
Office of Military Intellgence
The Head of Intellgence, Lt. Gen. John C. Handstand Jr. was looking at some papers, when he heard a knock. He open the door, to see 2 officers and a man in a Field Mashal's uniform, it was his father, John C. Handstand Sr., Sec. of Defense.
Wolfgang's first order is to put boots on foreign soil. These belong to the 1st Military Intellgence Group aka the "Windwalkers".
I will see if I can get a team, first where.
This is where a non-friendly government is located. The Windwalkers will be part 1 of a two plan. When they found a safe spot, Major Ranphlop and the 2nd Airborne Commando Regiment will land. That's part two.
C-27, over the ocean
Ten men sit with light gear on. The door opens and the loadmaster, a coyote says.
Time to swim, We can't fly over land since you are the recon. Good Luck, and Godspeed.
The 1st MIG was rowing it's way to the shore. There was no word from the government, this was war, Brydog style. Brydog loves it's Special Forces.
A few covered trucks were rolling down the highway towards the parking lot of a church just up the road from the farm. Soldiers climbed out of the backs and assembled into their units. A platoon of 10 M48 tanks were rumbling and squeaking past on their way to the 'front' as it were.
Infantry were moving through backyards towards the edge of the cornfield now. Braving the occasional mortar that fell nearby, they were a bit heartened by the lack of heavy fire. They could not see the farmhouse yet, but according to their maps it was only two thirds of a mile out now.
Felucans in second-story, sandbagged windows of the farmhouse looked out across the fields from behind their M100 SAWs (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10216659&postcount=28) which were propped up on their bipods and fed directly with belts from field ammunition cases.
After the unmistakable sway of movement in the cornfield was noticed, spotters called out from the roof distanced and vectors to the movement.
Seconds later, tracer rounds arched out over the distance to begin landing among the advancing militiamen. The mortars fired, and now accurate explosions blossomed among the Federated soldiers.
After several minutes of concentrated fire, the militia soldiers began to withdraw back the way they had come without firing a shot in return. Left behind, dozens of bodies in the torn cornfield.
The M48 tanks were still advancing though, now visable on the highway, coming down from the hills a mile and a half out.
The group was made of 5 humans and their anthro comrades. They landed on the beach and notice a small shack with two guards. Two of them, a human and a wolf near the men and stab both of them. They head into the shack and give documents of importance. Then a light was seen, it was a patrol. They men aim and fire.
The M48s were actually improved CM12 versions. It meant a bit more range, and some night-vision. Not that the NV helped much at the moment. The platoon was spreading out down the hill, fording the ditch and grinding into the west end of the cornfield, rolling over cornstalks and forging paths.
The gun turrets swiveled back and forth, but couldn't see much more than a sea of corn stalks and in the distance, a farmhouse. Machinegunners took aim from the turrets of the tank and fired bursts at the house, but got no reply. So the tank platoon continued its advance.
Near the Farm
The scouts notice tank tracks. They wait in a forest nearby, one armed a M3 Carl Gustav, and watched the area while they send a report over the radio.
Airken AFB, Brydog
The 2nd ACR was put on alert, when they got the code they would deployed.
Infantry were strung out to either side of the tank platoon now, trailing behind though. They had reported fire from the farmhouse, but there had been nothing for the tanks to shoot at.
They were perhaps a hundred yards from the fence marking the front yard of the farmhouse, when ten seperate paratroopers poked up from behind a slit trench, AT1 anti-tank guns shouldered. They took aim, and immedietly fired.
The warheads streaked downrange, in all cases striking the front armor belts of the tanks and in all cases, punching straight through and exploding inside. The bellies of the M48s filled with flame, and their crews were reduced to charred statues of carbon.
Several of the tanks detonated when the fire and shrapnel reached their ammo bunkers. In one case, the turret blew completely off, flipping up into the air before crashing down into the field near a startled infantryman, who stared in horror before being cut down by a stream of M100 SAW rounds.
All along the fence, paratroopers peeped up and began to fire short, accurate bursts with their rifles at the advancing militia. After a few seconds, they again retreated back towards the schoolyard.
M10A Redwood (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10214020&postcount=22) IFVs were rolling into the northern outskirts of the farm by now. An abbreviated company of 30 of the tough vehicles were chewing through the corn now, gathering around the farmhouse, turrets tracking left and right, scanning for movement.
Up on the highway, Federated militia could be seen, more citizen soldiers from the next town over had recieved word of a disturbance and piled into army trucks for a high-speed run over to the scene. With hundreds of infantry now, the militia were beginning to put heavier rifle and machinegun fire onto the farm. Now and then, a both sides mortar teams would trade fire.
Like massive animals, the Redwoods advanced through the corn, until they burst out the far side on the slope leading up to the highway. Federated militia scattered as the 25mm chainguns swept the infantry with firepower more suited to engaging other armored vehicles.
AGM-2 Mallet (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10213365&postcount=13) rockets lept from the dual launchers mounted on the Redwoods, reaching out across the highway to strike distant transport vehicles, shredding them into flowers of orange and black flame.
The militia were in full retreat now, running down the other side of the highway and towards the front yards of the houses on the very fringe of the town.
The doors of the Redwoods flipped open, and Felucan Marines stormed out in squads of 10, running to the sides and spreading out. They shouldered their AR1s and began to fire accurate bursts. Some Marines went down from the scattered counterfire, but for the most part the militia were pushed back into the town by concentrated AR1 and 25mm fire.
The town was rapidly becoming aware, as explosions and gunfire continued to blast away from just a mile outside of the outskirts. Vehicles clogged the streets, heading south and away from the fighting, while some families choose to stick it out in basements.
Military trucks and transports sat empty outside of the militia barracks, equivilent of a national guard compound. In the paradegrounds, close to seven hundred Federated militia milled about gathering equipment from the armory and what they had brought with them on the trucks from the nearest city.
The mangled Seaview militia had been strengthened by a batallion of militia from Anderstown, which was a small city about fifteen miles south that had sprung up around a booming lumber business.
Stronger than they had been to start with, the Federated militiamen were starting to deploy into the middle of the town in a front marked by a sprawling golf course and a tree-lined city avenue. BMP-2 and -3 infantry fighting vehicles dug in where they could, some going turret down in sand traps among the golf course lanes, others sheltering behind or even inside of buildings.
A trap was being laid, and the Federated militia stared down the barrels of their AK-74 rifles and RPGs, staring along the town's streets to the north where smoke was still rising from the ruined trucks on the highway.
The first signs of the Felucans were their deadly Redwood IFVs prowling through the streets, pausing at intersections to scan left and right before continuing south. Infantry in their full-body black combat armor followed along in squads and fireteams, covering each other and coordinating with the integrated communications systems built into their helmets.
For their part, the militia held their fire until the leading units of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Unit were within the ambush zone.
All at once, weapons opened up from the front, then from above as militia on the nearby roofs shot downwards at the Felucans.
Two Redwoods were immedietly destroyed as anti-tank rounds launched from the Federated BMPs struck them. Most of the crews managed to get out, but many were shot with rifle fire.
The 1st MEU did what it was trained to do, which was begin withdrawing out of the killing zone under organized suppression fire. Surviving Redwoods exchanged chaingun fire with the BMPs they could see, and the Felucans claimed six BMP kills at the cost of two more Redwoods.
From the west, a dismounted Marine platoon of fifty manuvered further south, approaching the western edge of the golf course and taking shelter in the clubhouse. Able to cover the street they had arrived by as well as the parking lot of the clubhouse, the MEU platoon radioed the rest of their company, which began to approach to link up.
Lt. Harrison grabbed radio. and spoke into the mic.
We need the ACR, now.
a voice said
Neg, You got a entire task force, and the 2nd Fleet. We just declared war on them.
The men were shocked.
Liberty City, Brydog
President Lichtenburg give his speech.
We, The Liberal Democratic Republic of Brydog, declare war on the Federation, for acts of animal abuse and their opression of free rights. I have send the 2nd Fleet and TF-56 to support forces alway deployed in the Federation.
Off the coast
The 5 battleships of the 2nd Fleet fire their 16.5in shells at targets in the area. A squadron of F/A-18Es attacked targets in a town called Seaview.
Elements of the 1st AEU and 1st MEU were scattered throughout Seaview now. However, the roar of jets overhead and the falling of bombs caused soldiers to take cover. The attack somewhat disrupted now, soldiers looked up.
Captain Masterson squinted at the sky, "Those aren't ours." And so, around the city soldiers shouldered their Pilum man=portable SAMs and pointed them upwards. Several of the soldiers took positions on rooftops for a clear line of fire.
When the Hornets made their next attack run, a dozen Pilum SAMs lept upwards, streaking towards. The intelligent sensors in the heads of the rockets detected the heat from engines, locking in and speeding towards the targets.
The Redwoods resumed their advance, pounding shots through the streets and absorbing hits. Felucan infantry continued forward, trading rifle fire with the Federation defenders.
The 2nd Company of the 1st MEU 1st Batallion had assembled at the golf course's clubhouse, spreading out and taking up defensive positions.
The 1st MEU Company were still among various concealment at the golf club house. Outside, some enterprising Felucans had sprawled out among sand traps and were covering the fairways and woods with their SAWs and grenade launchers.
There had been two tentative thrusts by the Federation's militia overnight, and now Federation regulars were arriving on the outskirts of the city in infantry carriers. A column of tanks were coming down the highway, lagging behind the faster carriers by about half an hour.
A pair of BMPs rolled out of the woods at one end of the fairway, their turrets tracking back and forth, covering each other and the advance of a company-sized force of infantry. Smoke rounds landed along the well-trimmed grass, exploding into puffs of cloudy white smoke.
The Federation infantry ran forward, approaching to within two hundred yards before the Felucan Marines opened fire. Tracer rounds sped downrange about 2 feet off the ground, chopping away at legs and the bodies of those attempting to dive to the grass for cover.
25mm rounds spat from the turrets of the BMPs, ripping away at the Felucan Marine concealment and causing two squads to scatter. The BMPs advanced, laying down covering fire.
The plan was made, the 5th Marine Division was to land at the beaches and advance while a 35 man element of the 2nd Republic Guard Division drop near the golf course out od side and then advance behind Federation lines to give them a nasy suprise.
LHP RNS Panama
Lt. Roberts, one of the new anthro officers was staring at the beach, ahead of them. He and his anthro and human brothers knew this was going to be great, but they knew the losts they may suffer. Lt. Col. Hariner, the human CO of the 5th gave the order to the boats. The men board the landing craft and headed to the shore, ready for battle.
Lt. Thompson, a young coyote was shot down over the the course and was in the 18th hole's sand bunker. He sat, waiting for help with pistol at hand. He know, whoever shot his F-18 was looking for him.
Captain Masterson of the 1st MEU was crouched in the employee lounge of the club house. It was one of the few internal rooms with no windows. Still, he and his men kept low, as several holes in the wall attested that the place wasn't bullet proof.
A corporal came scurrying in on hands and the tips of his boots, keeping low. Outside, the chung, chung, chung of BMP fire could still be heard. "Sir! Whoever these other people attacking the Federation are, they just lost one of their F/A-18s down the course a bit. We saw a pilot bail, but there's a whole platoon of Fed infantry plus an inf-track heading towards 'em."
Masterson frowned and leaned over to check the laptop one of the comm officers had set up. The city is a mess of blue triangles and red squares, and the golf course has one blue triangle representing this unit, with a whole cluster of red squares spread out around it. "Okay. Tell Jones to take his squad, plus an extra fire team and go see if he can get that pilot. Have him take extra AT1s, there's bimps all over the place."
A few minutes later, a squad of ten Felucans plus an extra fireteam of four would dash across the parking lot and scale a wooden fence, then slide down the slight slope to the back 9 of the course. Moving from cover to cover, they made their way towards the 18th hole.
Along the way, they are forced to stop as a BMP rolls past, but continue on. Up ahead, a cluster of infantry plus an APC are visable rolling up from the south towards the 18th hole.
Jones, a Lieutenant, a bever, called out, "You in the sand trap, STAY DOWN!" seconds before his squad opened up with SAWs, and also send a few grenade rounds downrange, scattering the enemy infantry. A vicious firefight errupted across the 18th hole.
Some rough terrain along the beach and above the tide line had been aquisitioned for use. An artillery battery of the lightweight, mobile LT-155 (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10786383&postcount=52) artillery pieces. 10 guns total, the weapons spaced out and crews standing by. Several Redwood IFVs were also parked nearby for further protection, and a landing craft sat offshore a hundred meters or so with extra ammunition.
Captain Masterson was surveying his position from the roof of the clubhouse now. From a couple of buildings near the edge of the course there had been reports of snipers, and BMPs were piling up on the reverse side of a hill at the south end of the course, out of sight.
It was about noon when the Federation's 72nd Infantry Division forward elements made a probing attack. A wave of tracers and standard ammunition fire errupted from cover at the end of the course, scattering among the positions of the Felucans. A medic dragged one of Masterson's airborne soldiers into the clubhouse, a smear of blood left behind. Ripping off the trooper's jacket, the medic checked his wounds, then stood up and ran outside ot help someone that could be saved. The airborne trooper had a pair of holes in his chest, one in the heart. Quite dead.
Squads of Fed infantry began to flank and surround the positions. In one case, a squad stumbled into a small pattern of claymores, and was decimated while trying to pull itself out of the trap.
Masterson rapped his comm officer on the helmet. "Get our bearings and request some arty support. I want air-bursts all along those south holes."
The officer hit a button on his laptop, triggering the GPS, then consulted with a spotter. They agreed on the positions, then radioed back to the beach.
"Fire mission, priority alpha!" Called out one radio dispatcher in the artillery battery's command truck. The battery officer ran the math, then sent the mission to his battery.
Half a minute later, shells and powder charges were rammed into breaches and the lanyards on the guns pulled.
Another fourty seconds later...
Like a string of fireworks, black clouds of smoke appeared about 10 meters off the ground with lightning-like cracks. The shrapnel was shot downwards, ripping into advance Federation positions.